Eldritch
The operating theater was filled with a laboring breath. The hum from a tenacious source of chakra stuttered. A piercing whine of a heart rate monitor flatlining sliced through the room. Aimless staff poorly concealed their cries.
Shizune had been working on Sakura for almost two hours.
Gritting her teeth, she continued pumping chakra from her hands. She had been going at it alone for over 90 minutes in blind desperation. Initially there was a flurry of activity, a crescendo in the room as everyone scrambled to triage the gaping holes, incinerated flesh, and gushing blood— so much blood. However, as quickly as they sprung to action, they were just as quick to stop because it was clear that this was a lost cause. It was indisputable. Obvious. And the reason why it was so obvious was that she taught most of them about when to call it.
About when to let go.
One by one, the horrifying realization settled in and the commotion died out. Arms dropped with dead weight to the wayside. A few knees buckled as the shock registered. An intern, who often got teased for idolizing her, for wanting to be the next her, proceeded to violently vomit in a corner. The putrid stench was a welcomed alternative to the deeply unnerving odor of burnt flesh. Everyone and everything mostly stilled.
All that was left were the sounds of Shizune's futile efforts.
"Shizune-senpai…" a hesitant voice softly called out.
No one wanted to say it. No one wanted it to be real.
'There had to be a way to resuscitate her— to save her. She couldn't be— how did this happen? But she had the seal how— Tsunade-sama would—'
"Shizune-senpai," a different voice, gruffer and sturdier, spoke up, "She was D.O.A. The damage was... catastrophic. It's been almost two hours. We need to call it."
Black eyes narrowed in defiance, "No."
Candidly, "There are other patients—"
"Not yet."
"She—"
"Sakura—"
"What?"
"Sakura. Her name is Sakura—"
"Shizune-senpai, her name was Sakura."
Blunt words shattered her like glass. The brilliant glow of her chakra fizzled out as the fight left her, the palms of her hands throbbing from the frantic energy output. A shaky hand turned off the wailing heart rate monitor that would haunt all of their dreams that night. Taking a gasp of breath, a sob erupted deep from within her as she crumbled to the floor.
No one dared to move.
After a moment, the gruff voice spoke again, "Sakura Haruno, time of death: 8:53 p.m."
Tragedy was a constant companion throughout Kakashi's life. Wryly he considered it his oldest and closest friend. It continuously stalked him with inevitability, always nipping at his heels asking to play just one more time. Asking him if he could endure just one more loss.
Perhaps he was cursed. How much of a bastard was he in a previous life to warrant such misfortune? Or maybe it wasn't personal. But it certainly felt personal as those dear to him met their premature demise. His mother and father. Rin. Minato-sensei. Obito. He started losing track after that.
No matter how hard he trained and how powerful he became, it always caught up with him. As if all his efforts were in fact an invitation, a challenge, that delighted and fueled tragedy to chase after and swallow him whole. And swallow him it did.
He used to wallow in his grief, in pain so excruciating it was as if a thousand senbon pierced his nervous system and his bones were set on fire. The crushing weight of guilt enveloped him in a debilitating embrace that made even breathing difficult. Most nights he'd scream himself awake before proceeding to methodically wash his hands over and over again until they were raw. He never felt clean. He could never get the blood off his hands.
Then a begrudging numbness overtook him. He distanced himself to limit the number of people he could ever possibly grieve for again. More often than not he made it back to the Village barely alive from a suicide mission, eager to dive right back into carnage to pass the time. The cost of taking a human life didn't register anymore. Everyone was merely a pawn and the only certainty in this life was death. But despite how earnest he was in smothering whatever remaining humanity was left inside, he realized that just as tragedy was persistent, so was hope.
Even during his darkest days, a stubborn, tiny flame of hope persevered within him. Egging him to go on—one step, one delinquent mission report, one ridiculous Gai challenge or wisecrack from Genma, one Icha Icha book, one obnoxiously bratty Genin team, one day at a time. A hope for better days. A hope to carry on the will of fire entrusted to him. A hope for everyone he cherished that were still alive.
He never truly lost hope, not once…
"Hokage-sama."
"Just Kakashi," he corrected reflexively.
The voice grew firmer as someone crouched down before him, "Hokage-sama…"
Ah, it was Shizune.
Her jet-black hair was plastered to the side of her face, drenched in sweat from exertion. She was still covered in blood, having not bothered to remove the surgical gown in her haste to find him. Bright red droplets, coaxed by gravity, accumulated in volume and fell to the ground. He watched as the blood rippled across the white floor upon contact. Looking up, defeated eyes met his gaze. Her face was stark white and grim—stark white and grim faces always preceded the delivery of dreadful news.
It was a face he knew intimately.
"Status?" he commanded softly, knowing what she was going to say but needing to hear her say it.
"She's…" her voice cracked, "She's gone."
A moment.
"Please say it. All of it."
"Hokage-sama—"
"Status?"
Straightening her spine, decades of medical training under Tsunade enabled her to compose herself as she delivered the news, "I'm very sorry to tell you that Sakura Haruno died in the operating room at 8:53 p.m. from catastrophic injuries. Despite our very best efforts, we were unable to revive her. You will be asked to consent for an autopsy soon."
Oh right, he was her emergency contact.
His face remained blank, "Thank you."
"I know how much she meant to you—"
Doubt it. Even he never dared to contemplate… or acknowledge…
"It's fine."
He noticed the absolute disbelief on Shizune's face, as if his words were delusional. As if he were delusional.
He probably was.
"Dismissed."
Just as quickly, he saw her composure slip as she abruptly stood up and pivoted away. She was shaking slightly.
"Shizune," he called out, "You're now acting Chief of Medicine. Report back to me in two hours with an update."
There was a violent tremor in her hand that she struggled to steady.
"Hai, Hokage-sama," she whispered before her silhouette became lost in a sea of anonymous, black cloaked bodies.
ANBU swarmed the hallways in an incredibly overbearing manner, enforcing a wide perimeter around him. As he sat alone, he noticed they were visibly skittish at his peripherals. Huh. Intrusively, a flash of Sakura's face materialized in his mind, scolding him for letting ANBU run amok in a place of healing. But circumstances have changed.
A mass bombing at the hospital put Konoha under its highest threat level, with Fire Country borders and the Village gates closed. National security protocol dictated that leadership and line of succession were secured. That meant Kakashi's ANBU detail no longer humored his escape artist tendencies. He didn't blame them. The law was the law, and they hadn't seen such devastation at home since Pain invaded.
It was a cluster fuck, to put it mildly.
Currently 37 dead and over 50 injured (and rising). Investigators and emergency squads were still sifting through the rubble. He was due to address Konoha citizens in an hour to provide reassurance during this crisis. Rumors were running rampant, inciting panic among the population. Some thought it was a declaration of war by another Village, others thought it was a terrorist attack, and even more troubling were the confident whispers that it was a suicide attempt by a Konoha nin.
Fuck, he didn't know what he was going to say.
Speeches weren't his thing. He wasn't charismatic, or particularly comforting. He was only ever meant to be a placeholder in between Tsunade and Naruto. He was only ever meant to be a tiny blip in the history books. Yet this was the start of something significant, he was certain of it. He was almost always right. He hated how he was almost always right.
But it was time to stop the self-indulgent sulking.
"Aki."
A member of his ANBU escort immediately emerged, bowing respectfully before him. Though it seemed more like he cowered.
"Yes Hokage-sama?"
"Find Sai," he ordered before a defeated sigh escaped him, "Tell him to immediately recall the other members of Team 7, as well as Shikamaru and Tsunade-sama."
"What should the message entail?"
He hesitated a second, torn between his duty as Hokage and his duty as their friend.
"Kuchiki. Unencrypted."
"Hai," the operative said before disappearing in a puff of smoke, leaving him completely alone.
It was strange, how quiet it was. There was a lack of foot traffic and bustling medical staff and panicked citizens in the hallway. Maybe ANBU were deterring people from passing through this section of the hospital? But no, that's not quite it. His eyes slightly widened with understanding. People were giving him a wide berth out of their own volition. ANBU were acting skittish because of him—specifically the overwhelming, lethal intent he exuded.
He's really not cut out for this, huh?
It had been a long time since he was in a situation like this. Where his carefully crafted composure and control were weakened to such a state. A tiny whisper raged that he didn't give a fuck about anything right now. Glancing downward, he slowly opened and closed his palms repeatedly, willing himself to calm down. Regardless of his personal feelings on the matter, he was the appointed leader of this Village and needed to act accordingly.
Open. Close.
Open. Close.
His mind stubbornly wandered to a memory that he lacked energy to dismiss.
An inkblot on the bridge of her nose.
It was red.
An uncapped fountain pen rolled away as she moved her head while slumbering, a pool of drool accumulating on a half-filled out document. She worked late again and had missed meeting him for dinner. Gently setting down the takeaway, he stood over her, marveling at how she remained completely unbothered by his chakra signature. Chest rhythmically rising and falling, she was so at ease in this vulnerable state.
He wasn't sure what prompted him to do it. But before he could really recognize it, his fingers tenderly ran through her hair. Groaning softly from the sensation, her lashes fluttered as she awoke.
Ah shit, he'd have to just own it now.
Groggy green eyes opened, widening in recognition… and adoration… as she saw him.
"Hey you," she yawned out. Staring unabashedly, her face broke out into a euphoric smile. A smile that seemed reserved only for him.
She really overwhelmed him sometimes.
After a beat, "Ah, you have ink on your nose," was his smooth response. Though her sputtering and flushed cheeks were honestly worth it.
His hands flexed once more. As if they were trying to remember the imprinted sensation of his fingers running through her long, soft locks. But it wasn't the same.
The now almost dried blood on the ground caught his eyes again, bringing him back to reality.
The looked like inkblots.
They were red, too.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
Antiquated, behemoth wooden doors were blasted off the hinges with an indelicate kick.
"Brats?!"
Blonde pigtails wildly swung around before settling at the sight of two bewildered men. Naruto was mid-bite, his jaw seemingly unhinged to accommodate a ridiculous portion of ramen. Shikamaru had been startled wide awake, a small trail of drool had dried at the side of his agape mouth.
"Tsunade-sama?"
Slurping the mouthful, "Baa-chan?! Aren't you supposed to be gambling?"
"Are you both okay?" she demanded while stomping to where they sat, eyes frantically assessing their well-being as her chest heaved after running all this way.
"Duh of course we are—"
Immediately picking up on her alarm, Shikamaru prodded, "What's going on?"
"I got a bad feeling."
"What do you mean you got a bad feeling?"
Naruto gulped down the last remnants of the tonkotsu broth before letting out a satisfied smack of his lips. Cheerfully, he teased, "Were you getting your ass kicked at poker again?"
"No, I was winning," she snapped.
That caught Naruto's attention, "Oh…"
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled loudly. Nothing seemed to be amiss here. But this feeling wouldn't go away. And the ominous signs were all there, it was almost comical how blatant they were.
"Maybe it's nothing…" she muttered to herself, brows furrowed as she absentmindedly leaned a hand on the table, strumming bright red nails along the wooden grain.
Ever the voice of reason, "Frankly, you're bound to win sometime. It's statistically impossible that you'd never win, despite how seemingly unlucky you might be."
Ever the voice of sheer optimism, "Yeah baa-chan! I'm sure it's nothing—"
A medium-sized hawk created out of ink abruptly flew into the room with a loud squawk, circling a few times overhead. It swooped directly toward them, dropping a note before disintegrating in a burst of ink. It was an innocuous scrap of paper, neatly bound, and in any other context it wouldn't have caused immediate apprehension among the three. Yet the use of Sai's technique to send communication denoted urgency.
Urgency denoted emergency.
Naruto reached for the message, carefully opening the seal and noting the contents hadn't been encrypted. With elegant penmanship, a single word was plastered on the page: Kuchiki.
His fists immediately balled up, crushing the paper into a small mass.
"We need to go. Now," Naruto demanded as he began pacing, "We need to get back to Konoha."
"Wait, what did it say?"
"Kuchiki. It said Kuchiki."
"It's Sakura," Tsunade solemnly explained. A sharp pang arose in the pit of her stomach, but she dismissed the sensation. It was impossible for Sakura to die with the seal. It had to be something else.
"That's why we need to leave now."
"Okay, let's go. The Mizukage will understand…" he trailed off as he recognized a very particular look in Naruto's eyes. One that Shikamaru immediately knew meant that he had a stupid, ridiculous idea that would be impossible to deter him from actualizing.
He tried to anyway, "Oi, oi Naruto, don't even think about it."
Cerulean eyes narrowed with stubbornness, "This is an emergency!"
"What bright idea do you got now?" Tsunade sighed.
"You're emotionally compromised. You've never attempted this before. Under ideal conditions this would most likely kill you."
"It's Sakura-chan! Kakashi-sensei wouldn't have Sai send this unless it was serious."
Filling the gaps herself, "Are you crazy," she glowered, "Now is not the time to start experimenting with something as temperamental as space-time ninjutsu."
"Look, Kurama says we got it. We can bring you both along. And you can't die baa-chan!"
"Fair point—"
"Not a fair point as I definitely would die. Not everyone has a ridiculous cheat code on their forehead like Tsunade-sama and Sakura," Shikamaru protested.
Tsunade turned to the increasingly alarmed man with some reassuring words, "I can probably make sure your body doesn't rip apart and disintegrate during the jump."
Giving her a pointed look, "Your bedside manner is terrible, and you acquiesced way too quickly on this."
"Just gimmie the odds?" Naruto begged.
"So troublesome…" he groaned, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes out of annoyance, "I guess 80-20."
"That's pretty good."
"Nah, more like 85-15."
"Oh, that's even better!"
"That's in favor of us dying," Tsunade deadpanned.
"Actually, 90-10."
Outraged by his lack of enthusiasm, "Now you're just being pessimistic!"
"My initial assessment was me being delusional. Now I'm being extremely optimistic."
"There are no other options!"
"Look, it's about a four-day journey from here to back home—"
"THAT'S TOO LONG—"
"Hold on. It's four-days normally given half of the journey is over water using commercial vessels. Send a summons, get an elite ANBU team to retrieve your dad's kunai, and have them haul ass right to the border. As soon as they're set, they can send word back through your summons and then you can try killing all of us. If you don't fuck up and we avoid dying, we can sprint straight to Konoha."
"And what are our odds with this plan?"
"Eh more like 50-50. Definitely better than him trying to jump us across a whole body of water and a continent."
Completely sold on the half-baked idea, Naruto let out a loud whoop before screaming, "LET'S GO!"
Tsunade rolled her eyes as the blonde sprinted from the room.
"Damnit, we're going to die," groaned Shikamaru.
Morino was already in the room as Kakashi entered, a permanent scowl on his features as he barked out orders. Two fidgety guards flanked him. It was understandable why Morino was running hot, why everyone was tense. ANBU didn't tolerate uncertainties, particularly those that threatened the safety of the Village. Or those that seemingly resulted in the death of someone renowned as incapable of dying on the battlefield.
The kid lying on the bed, who managed to survive while Sakura did not, was a big fucking uncertainty.
Everyone immediately stood at attention.
"I really don't like you being in this room right now Hokage-sama."
"Naruto is ready enough to take over if I meet my end."
"Why do you insist on making my job difficult?"
"Mah, I didn't know you cared so much about little old me."
Morino snorted.
"At least you toned it the fuck down. I felt you 100 meters outside of the hospital."
Kakashi made a noncommittal noise.
"You're scaring the hell out of all the green horns. They're not old enough to know this side of you."
Ignoring the jab at his slip up, "What's his status?"
"He's alive, but unconscious. Shizune wasn't able to bring him out of the coma… Actually, it's difficult to tell if there's brain activity whatsoever. We're not sure yet if it's due to a physical or psychological trauma, or hell, even a genjutsu."
Kakashi looked down at the sleeping child, whose face seemed to be contorted in slight pain. Tight shackles bound his small wrists and ankles.
Nodding toward the restraints, "Are these necessary?"
"Better safe than sorry," Morino huffed out, "He was at the epicenter of the blast. I don't give a shit if he's a kid, he's our primary suspect."
"He's remarkably intact for being in the middle of a blast."
"He's physically 100%. It's as if he was never injured in the first place, let alone having survived an explosion."
"How's that possible?"
"We're still investigating. But we have a working theory as to why he's still alive and Haruno is… not," he hesitated slightly before continuing, "We interrogated Shizune—"
"You interrogated Shizune?" Kakashi echoed in a way that made everyone in the room shift their weight.
"We questioned Shizune."
"And?"
"She's almost positive Haruno activated her seal. Under normal circumstances she would have come out of this unscathed. But given the kid was with her too, she applied the technique not on herself, but on him."
Of course she did.
"We found traces of exploding tags—a shit ton of them. The question is how they got into the room in the first place. The brat was supposedly knocking on death's door. And I doubt Haruno walked around that heavily armed in her own hospital."
Kakashi felt a knot in his stomach grow. Did… whatever was afflicting Sakura cause this?
"So, he's the only one who knows what happened."
"Unfortunately, yes. It's shitty that Yamanaka is out, we could use her expertise right now."
"Yamanaka is due to arrive tomorrow morning."
Sighing, "She's going to go ballistic."
"Yeah."
"I'll probably throw her in a holding cell before breaking the news. I assume you've called back everyone?"
"Yeah."
"We're going to need to confine them otherwise they'll raze the Village."
Devoid of any humor, "Good luck with that."
Reality hit the black ops leader, "Ah fuck, I'm too old for this shit."
Konoha was about 100 km away.
Fucking finally.
Sasuke was looking forward to a hot shower. And a pillow. Simple luxuries that were never afforded during extended missions. Grudgingly he admitted that he missed his idiotic teammates too. Even though Sai almost drove him to recidivism and Naruto brought out his pettiest, most competitive streak. Or that he wanted to burn Kakashi's books so he'd stop reading them while he recounted mission reports. Or how Sakura annoyingly made it a habit of assigning that crazy old bat of a nurse to hunt him down for physicals.
Over the years he made a concerted effort to appreciate things.
He learned to really appreciate the first bite of an heirloom tomato. Or the serene stillness that blanketed the world after a violent thunderstorm. He appreciated Sai's ability to create beauty from nothing. How Naruto always knew exactly when and how to distract him when his thoughts began drifting to darker times. That each time he came home, Kakashi went out of his way to share a new anecdote from his time leading Itachi on Team Ro. And how as soon as Sakura caught wind that he was back in the Village (which was conveniently always as soon as he finished reporting to Kakashi), she'd show up with groceries to restock his perpetually empty fridge.
Landing softly on a large branch, his rucksack felt heavier.
The unsettling feeling that plagued him across the past couple of weeks continued to simmer. Normally as he drew closer to Konoha's gates, contentment would settle within him at the prospect of coming home. Trees would start becoming recognizable in a way that stirred excitement. The sounds and scents of the forest would be soothingly familiar. But his apprehension only seemed to grow now. A nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that he wasn't merely returning this time around.
He was a harbinger too.
And this was immediately reinforced when one of Sai's ink birds flew straight into him.
Within a split second, a litany of emotions passed through him as he quickly opened the note. Displeasure at the overly flamboyant design of the stupid hawk as it squawked loudly in his face before exploding. Unease at this unusual method of communication from the Village. And anger as he read a singular word that suggested that yet again something terrible happened.
Sasuke began to sprint.
The morgue was freezing.
Kakashi didn't know how the mortician could stand it. Pale, veiny hands, almost translucent from years spent under artificial light, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She excused herself at the entrance under the pretense of taking a smoke break, yet her pitying look gave away her true intention. It was full of understanding. Regardless, giving him time and privacy was a thoughtful gesture.
She was busy today. And he was only supposed to quickly confirm the identity of the body.
The subterranean level of the hospital was a sterile and industrial expanse—utterly lifeless. A disorienting pocket universe devoid of warmth and even the light felt oppressive and dark. His heavy steps were muted against the concrete floor, yet they seemingly thundered in his ears. Each step became a heavier and heavier burden as it brought him closer to a reality he couldn't bear.
A thick sheet was draped over a metal autopsy table, mostly obscuring the outline of the body. In a daze, he stopped in front of the amorphous mass and tried to strengthen his resolve. This wasn't the first time he identified the body of someone… close. The trepidation deep within him was clawing at his skin, churning the bile within his stomach. Pulse quickening, he grew feverish with anxiety.
He was well practiced with the sensation of recognition turning into resignation. However, he knew this time would be different. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
The frigid air seeped into him as this death greeted him like an old friend. Slowly, he grabbed the coarse white material and pulled it downward. A breath momentarily caught in his throat before he forced himself to exhale slowly. To dissociate. To dismiss tears that may have brimmed but would never fall. To uncouple devastating grief from the act of registering the sight before him.
It was Sakura.
Silky pink hair framed her porcelain face in a halo, yet it was corrupted by the brownish dried blood splattered across her cheek and that had drenched and hardened in her hair. Her features were serene, as if she was merely asleep. But he knew she'd never wake up.
His fingers gently ghosted along her hairline, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. A dainty shimmer caught his eye. She was wearing the aquamarine stud earrings he had gifted for her birthday last year…
She was so cold.
Regret washed over him.
He wished he wasn't such a coward.
He wished he had told her.
Cupping her cheek, he leaned down, tenderly touching his forehead to hers.
He never truly lost hope, not once…
Until today. Today he despaired.
"Goodbye."
Sup. If you want to yell at me feel free to do so on my Tumblr: sassafrassing-blog
