Chapter: 3

Posted: 4/12/06

Chapter Rating: K+

Warning: None

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Konoha's Broken Feet

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When I was small, when my father still lived in Konoha, I used to be quite the girl. Dresses, long locks, painted nails—I submerged myself in the whole façade. Though my level of confidence was questionable, I was enough of an actress to shepherd the notion that I knew what I was doing. To pretend I knew what I was talking about. With my pretty, little face, I like to think I did a damn good job.

My mother hadn't been much of a looker in her youth. My father, the qualified medic nin that he was, had married her purely out of cash. It was something Mother had buckets of. She loved Father, though—who didn't love father?—and was much too sweet to complain, anyway.

Her ruin.

I was more like my father than Mother in the retrospect that I was rather popular with the village. I was a smart thing, and I think that virtue nearly made up for my weak indecision to act. Of course, that only pertains to my days in the academy. Afterward, once lady Tsunade-sama took me under her wing, I had half my wonderful brains beaten out and a load of brute strength dumped into me instead. I was told it was necessary.

I don't know what to think of myself now. My face lost its sweetness somewhere along these past few years; my cheekbones nearly poke through my skin, it's so thin. My body isn't as formed as I thought it'd be. I had my hair cut short—boy-short—while telling myself it was out of necessity. Was it really? Ten asked me once. And I said exactly what he would have said.

"What do you think?"

I know what I think. I'm more like Mother than I thought.

…………………………

I did not sleep well that night. My house, being small and ransacked of anything that might satisfy a late-night craving, ushered me back to dreamland. I didn't want to go.

My eyes were wide and darting, fixing themselves on the curl of black hair on my dresser, on my wrinkled start-of-autumn sheets, on my indiscernible footboard, then circling back again. My mind was on a reel. What did I think? How was I reacting to the sudden confrontation? I wanted to know.

My nerves were all that I felt. I knew, not in my heart, but in my brain, that it was him that the letter spoke of. He was the one that needed rescuing. I couldn't tell whom the letter was from, but I could guess, all right. I formulated stories in my tightly stretched mind.

Maybe he had broken away from Orochimaru. Yeah. Maybe he'd taken my advice, decided revenge wasn't for him. Maybe some friendly Grass nins volunteered to steer him back to Konoha's gates.

And maybe I'm ten years old. On all counts, it could have been Sasuke's brother writing; "we have him" could have only meant they had Sasuke's dead body.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. The thought had crossed my mind too often before, though. Too often, too long. It didn't hurt like it used to.

My fingers strayed over to trace the dark, dark hair on my bedstand. It felt so coarse, so wrong beneath my fingers, and I didn't know why. A taste of vile was in my mouth, and I pulled my hand back, furrowing further beneath the sheets.

…………………………

Lee was the sweetest guy I had ever met. Even though I had grown pale, flat chested, and too skinny, uncomfortably lithe like a shinobi, he still treated me with the utmost curtsey. Too bad I didn't love him, because I sure as hell wouldn't meet another guy willing to overlook such details.

He was grasping my hand and helping me up from where I sat beneath the shaded greens. It was sunny and crisp out; we were all sparring, the six of us, and I had drawn straws with Kiba. Feeling good and kind of dazed from all the sunlight in my eyes, I waltzed across the grassy field and took my place across from him.

He grinned as we both crouched, calling me off. "You're looking too confident for you own good, Haruno," he cajoled. "Wouldn't want to wipe that smile off your face."

"Couldn't if you tried, dog-boy." Dog-boy. That's what I called people in my head. Knucklehead. Ino-porker. Snow White. I meant to harm by the names, but it helped me identify each individual in the village. No one minded, as far as I know, though it was hard to tell. People sometimes said things just to make me feel better.

"Hn." He dug his shoes into the ground, pulling up clumps of dirt beneath his feet. I saw Naruto raise a hand in my peripheral vision.

The blond screwed his eyes shut against the glare omitted between the trees; his voice hit my ears like a dozen hammers. "On three, right? And no early starts, Kiba!"

"Ah."

"One…"

I tensed and relaxed my feet, opening up the chakra channels for momentary use. The brown-head ran a hand across his nose and bent lower to the earth.

"Two…"

My heart hammered in my ribs, caught up in a comfortable excitement. I luxuriated in the fact that I wouldn't be fighting for my life today.

"Two and a half…"

"Naruto!" I don't know who said it first, but it had not been entirely unexpected. The knucklehead scratched his forehead and sighed.

"Fine, fine. Three!" And I jumped.

My eyes scanned the grassy floor from my tree-bound perch, feeling comfort in my bird's-eye view. My only disadvantage was that the Inuzuka was another high jumper, though it was my only disadvantage. His dog was sick this morning, so I needn't worry about a double opponent this time.

I heard voices and a swish. Attempting to decipher one from the other, I decided it best to shift to the offensive and tore two kunai from my pouch. I did not get far, however, when something feathery-light was pushed against my hand. My heart went into my throat as I turned my head. It was paper.

An exploding tag? I wondered. But no, it was an envelope. I knew because I had been staring at one too often for the past three days. My vision flicked up into the surrounding trees as I sought out the one who had delivered it, but a part of me knew they were long gone. I returned my attentions to the envelope clutched tight in my palm and hopped from the tree.

"Oi, Sakura." Naruto was jogging towards where I stood, a frown between his eyes. "What happened? You fall?"

I felt the excitement frothing in me and knew I had to get away from there before I started giggling like an idiot. "Uh, tell Kiba he wins," I said, turning away.

"I do?" It was the dog-boy's voice, behind me. I continued walking, eyes swallowing up the paper as I forced my legs faster, glad for once that they all strove so very hard to humor me.

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I sat limply on my bed, the unfolded note curling slightly in my palms.

It was only a picture this time—no words, no clues—but it was enough. In clean, deft strokes, it illustrated a shady clearing; the circular bend of the trees contradicted the ruled lines of the paper. In the center of the clearing was a girl, her back drawn to the viewer. She wore a sheet of shoulder-length hair, and by the angle of her head, she seemed to be gazing into a far tree where a dark shape, a figure, sat hunched.

I supposed that girl was supposed to resemble my twelve-year-old self.

The only color in the image was the color of the sky, drawn red with crayon.

I was at a loss. Was I supposed to find this clearing? Did it exist? If this were indeed some sort of map, it was poorly done.

Unamused, I turned the paper over in my wrist, studying its back. In the corner, barely discernable, was the symbol of the Sound.

I knew now that it had been in my mind all along.

Did Uchiha Itachi sketch in his spare time?

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The streets of Konoha were too dark for my comfort. All the while, pattering out of my neighborhood, my mind a blank slate, I chanted my mantra. I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm not afraid of the dark. Damn right, I'm not afraid of the dark.

Funny how I actually was.

I was saying goodbye. Earlier it had been to my bedroom, to my cat, to my sleeping mother in her bedroom (though I hadn't had the willpower to open the door and look at her). Now, as I nodded to the end-of-the-street lamppost, I made a song out of it. Thing was, I couldn't rhyme.

It didn't feel real to me. It seemed as though I was only making a rather late-night calling on the hospital, maybe on Mother's summoning. Except my mother was sleeping soundly in her bed. And I had my backpack loaded with four days work of food from our icebox.

How it all happened still surprises me. I was Haruno Sakura, wasn't I? The great thinker—what had happened to that? I was acting on an unrealistic whim. I was leaving Konoha because of some stupid letter from God knows where.

Walk faster. My sandaled feet sped down the cemented sidewalks until I was practically running down the streets, flying almost. Things blurred past me, familiar things, but I disregarded them.

I remembered all the nights I lay in bed and wondered where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about me, or if he was dead already, blown to pieces or left to starve. I was going to find out. Now.

The gate. Right there. Faster, now. In a fervent daze, I summoned all my chakra—much, much more than was needed—to the soles of my feet. I would run as fast as I could past the guards; it was dark, who would notice? Feeling the heat around my eyes and my sandals, I prayed.

I prayed that my mother would understand when she woke up tomorrow as the only resident in the house.

I prayed that Naruto and the others would stay calm and not come looking. I prayed that they would wait.

I prayed that Ino wouldn't let anything slip to anybody about the first letter. That she would trust me for once, again.

I prayed that God would have mercy on me right there, right now, and forgive me for betraying my village for a few weeks until I returned.

My prayers were cut short: I was already through the gates.

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I traveled for two weeks straight.

On my way from the house, I had "borrowed" enough change for a five-night stay at some kind of run-down inn. It was the best my conscience could cope with. My mother was not rich, and neither was I, but we had somehow managed before. I would continue to do so.

It was so cold. For some reason, God had decided that the sweet Indian summer we enjoyed had lasted far too long the evening I left Konoha. The winds riled themselves as I padded from the gates; the rain started pittering at the top of my head and ran down my back. Needless to say, lady Tsunade's survival tactics had drudgingly kicked into gear within me, but I took no comfort in those skills. Instead of feeling like the well-trained kunoichi I believed myself to be, I felt like some sort of damp and frightened sewer rat, scuttling around the bases of trees and ever seeking shelter from the storms.

And I was frightened. Countless times—more times than I'm comfortable in retelling—I considered turning around and making my way back. I considered returning home, considered crawling between my bed sheets and never forcing my skin to bear the beating of the rain again. But something held me against it, and I took a wild stab at what it was. Rather, who it was.

I would never get used to the smell of rain on rotted wood.

…………………………

The man belched in my face. "Eh, dunno 'bout that." I felt his eyes as they went over my pale, lank personage; my pastel hair that clung tightly to my scalp. His eyes sidled sideways. "We's near full of women…"

I forced my voice low and sharp, though I wanted to squeal out my frustrations. "I don't mean like that," I said. "All I want is a room."

"Eh?" He glanced down as I extracted my palm from the counter, revealing coins. They gleamed in the lantern's half-light.

It was better than women. "Follow me," he said, a grin gracing his features.

……..

This room was whiter than my own in Konoha. The beaten dresser, lodged up against the four-cornered bedpost, gleamed darkly—it was the only not-white object within view. I chose it to toss my backpack beneath.

There was a mirror across from my bed, dimly lit and smeared with lipstick marks and fingerprints. A crack ran down its center, splitting my face in half like a broken image. I didn't care; the Sakura I glimpsed wasn't anything I wanted to get to know better.

I turned away from the mirror and let my eyes wander the short expanse of carpet that squished under my feet. The bed, worm holed and depressed, seemed almost inviting to me in my state. It didn't collapse when I lowered my weight onto it, anyway. Wasn't that a sign?

Damn. It was happening. My eyes were stinging. To distract myself and my emotions, I swung my feet across the bed and leaned back on the pillow, pushing my thin line of bangs from my face. It wasn't so bad, was it? I had a place to stay tonight… I was fed and watered and kind of clean… Already, I was eight days through my journey… And anyway, this wasn't the worst place I had stayed, was it? It was my fourth hotel, and by far one of the quietest…

I did not like this. The hand on my forehead clenched, and I took breaths to calm myself. I did not like where I was. I did not like who I was or what I was doing. I was a bad person.

He was a bad person. He left home, and now I gone and done the same thing.

But it was too late to go back, wasn't it? Yeah… I was days within my goal. I was on the border of the Sound. I was so close to finding him—just imagine seeing him again. His face, his eyes, his hair… Subconsciously, I went to reach for the tie of locks that had started all of this, but both it and the letters were hidden securely in my backpack. I let my head fall back on its pillow again. Why bother?

I tossed onto my side, causing the mattress to sway. My hands, rough and calloused from training, were positioned in front of my face. I gazed at them as my eyelids lowered…

This all really wasn't that bad. I had a goal and a purpose, and I was determined enough to reach for it to the fullest extent. But still…

I wanted to go home.

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The village was more open than I'd thought it'd be. Grimly, I stopped the first woman I came across—a squat, aproned lady—and asked directions. I had been doing so this whole while.

She studied the picture, the "map," that I had been given. "N-no…" Her head jerked slightly, causing me to bear a metal image of Hinata. "I-It's just…Wait!" Light came into her eyes, and she pointed over my head, rising onto the tips of her toes. "There! It's w-where the children play in the s-summertime."

Her tiny hand caught my wrist as I thanked her, spinning me around. "But d-don't go now," she chided, eyes pleading with me. "S-snow…"

"I know." My hands wrenched her fingers from my sleeve, and I waved again. All my vision was latched onto the direction she had pointed; there was something caught in my chest, but I didn't know what the feeling was.

I wasn't very afraid.

I had not bothered to hear the village's name, but I knew from its shape that it ran in a circle around itself. Outside the circle, where the snow and the hail jut in, were spliced rows of trees and near-dead scrubs. I had to maneuver around and atop these things in order to trace the path the nervous lady had directed. I felt the weird thing in my chest swell painfully.

I blew on my hands, felt my shoulders quaking within my coat. It wasn't warm enough for my comfort, but I didn't much care. The sky around me was sheening from orange-gray to red, and I finally found myself gazing into the base of a house-sized clearing. My hands fumbled as I tore the paper from my pack.

The red of the crayon matched that of the sky to an uncomfortable accuracy. Teetering on the limb of a tree, I dared a glance around, praying to God that whomever I was supposed to meet was small and ruly. I didn't want a fight.

I waited for ten minutes. When nothing stirred but the sheet of snow falling thickly around me and my tired limbs as they quaked in the cold, my mind turned for the worst. The picture showed the girl staring up from the very center of the clearing.

Breathing more roughly than I'd like to admit, I took my chances. My feet were cautiously touching the patterned, snowy earth in a matter of silent moments.

There was no room in my mind for second thoughts. Stumbling forward with as much dignity as I still possessed through my frail, freezing limbs and my blank state of mind, I positioned myself in the very center of the clearing, just like he had drawn me.

I took a moment in hesitation. Then I looked up.

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Author's Note: I tried to make this chapter longer. I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, but they are some of my favorite ways to end things. You can complain if you'd like; I don't have my gun with me this time.

Now, the reviews…

Skogstroll: The reason for the note will be better explained in later chapters, along with why it was sent to Sakura. You can't expect me to leave it hanging at that, can you? Though I don't know how long it will be until I get to that point, I promise that all ends will wrap up eventually.

Daughters of the Moon: Here's your update, and thanks for reviewing. Compliments always put me in a good mood, haha.

sw337p34n3k0-ch4n: A loyal reviewer, eh? I appreciate it. There's nothing worse then churning out a chapter by a given deadline and not getting any comments on it. Anyway, I never was a fan of Sakura-centered fics, but I've become inordinarily interested in her character over the past few weeks. In all the fictions I've read, however, she is depicted as some curvy sort of goddess. Though there is nothing wrong with this, I thought I'd try something different – the exact opposite effect. I'm interested on how this will go over with you guys…

ineedtofeelalive: Hello there; thanks for the reviews. Yeah, I don't know exactly where the "beat you with a stick" thing came from…Life is unpredictable like that, I suppose. See you next chapter…!

Sekiryu: I apologize for the confusion. "Flashback mode fic"? I don't think it is…This takes place four years after Sasuke leaves Konoha. I know I haven't made it clear yet, but I was planning on working that into future chapters.

RobinAmon: That's all you have to say? I really don't like one-word reviews… (rubs knuckles)

See you all next chapter, estimated in 5 or so days.