August 3rd 996 — Konohagakure
Sakura wakes before the sun to trade off with Sasuke once again and, seeing it as her best chance, takes the opportunity to look over the damage while he isn't looking.
Her harness hangs in shreds off one side, sliced clean through by those claws of boiling chakra that had raked across her skin. Her turtleneck is torn from the centre of her chest outward, stretching across to her left shoulder and revealing her marred flesh underneath, four angry jagged lines of uneven scar tissue that seem so much more prominent than she remembers from last night. Even her mesh armour shirt has been shorn through like it was nothing, which really puts into perspective just how perilous of a situation she'd really been in—Kakashi-sensei had actually tried to slice her freaking arm off with a kunai to prove its durability and it hadn't given way despite the fact that the shock of his attack had sent her sprawling in the street. If it hadn't been for Karin's healing ability, Sakura knows without a doubt that she would have died from that hit alone before Sasuke could have even tried to get help for her.
(Given how completely Karin's ability had healed all of her other wounds, Sakura's sure the fact that there's such a glaring scar is cause for mild alarm.)
The weight of that knowledge settles like ice in the pit of her stomach as she shrugs off her harness entirely and pulls her shirt over her head. Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it—) Hurriedly rummaging through her pack for the spare top she'd packed, determined to get her change of shirt on before one of the boys can wake up and catch her in nothing but mesh armour and her chest bindings, Sakura sighs in defeat at the state of said armour. She can't do much about the mesh armour right now, as Kakashi-sensei had only bought her the one shirt, but she's grateful that she thought ahead enough to pack a second shirt and pair of shorts just in case. She quickly pulls her back-up shirt on and makes a mental note to try and sew up the now gaping tear in the fabric when she has a chance, packing it away with a pathetically forlorn whine. She hadn't expected to ruin so much of her new ensemble so quickly, but when has her team ever had the kind of luck where nice things last longer than one day out in the field?
Looking down at the pitiful remains of the left half of her harness, Sakura accepts the sad truth that she can't do much to salvage it right now. Hopefully, as soon as they get some kind of break, she can ask Kakashi-sensei about visiting a leatherworker to try and get it professionally mended, but for now she just has to make due. Naruto's still feverish and hasn't woken up or even moved since he lost consciousness, and Sakura knows she can't risk having her hands full with a pack that won't stay on her back while trying to get him to safety. She can't leave it behind and it's not like they have a spare storage scroll on hand, either, so that only leaves her with one option.
Sakura is going to have to improvise.
She resorts to a sloppy but functional solution that involves a senbon, a short length of trap-wire from her stash, and a whole lot of guilt. She's not exactly the best with a needle and thread, but she's stitched up a cut or two for Sasuke in the name of practise before and decides that logically that should work for what she needs. It takes her longer than she'd like to admit, and she definitely stabs her fingers with the senbon enough times that she loses count, but she eventually manages to secure the sliced side of her harness back together with the wire. It's much tighter than before and makes her pack hang crookedly across her back, but at least it ensures her hands are free and doesn't hugely impede her movement. That's a victory in her books.
Running a hand through her hair with a thoughtful hum, Sakura silently laments the loss of her hair. It had been her final vanity, even if she hadn't been really taking the best care of it lately—she'd sort of thought of it as the last piece of her old self she had left, the only thing that was left of the Haruno Sakura that hadn't fully realised just what kind of life she'd signed up for. The absence of her fingers getting lost in her once long locks is a little disorienting, especially first thing after a short-lived and fitful sleep, and Sakura finally has a moment to grieve the admittedly vain loss. Trailing her fingers up the back of her head and trying to get used to the way the short strands are left sticking up awkwardly in her wake, Sakura has to physically shake her head to put a stop to her little pity party.
Now isn't the time to cry over her hair. They have to get Naruto to the tower, to get help, and they need to do it today. The time-limit may have been five days maximum, but Sakura refuses to stay in this place another night while her teammate is unconscious. Swallowing thickly, she sets her jaw in determination and quickly brushes her fingers through the remaining length of her hair—twin tendrils that frame her face and fall just past her collarbones—in a quick attempt to look even just somewhat put together. If she's going to have a new look, she's going to at least try to make it seem intentional so that none of their enemies target it as a weak point. Their goals for today are simple: get to the tower, get Kakashi-sensei, and get help for Naruto.
Sounds easy enough, right?
The first rays of the morning sun are just peeking through the thick foliage overhead when she hears Sasuke stirring from beside Naruto, his exhausted groan serving as the signal for Sakura to start preparing to head out. It was a sort of unspoken decision between them the night before that they'd wait until daylight to travel again, unwilling to risk trying to navigate the already dim forest in complete darkness. The two of them are still on edge, eyes trained on every shadow and muscles tensed for the seemingly inevitable approach of Orochimaru coming to finish what he'd started. The forest is alive with the sounds of wildlife this morning, which Sakura takes as a good sign—the forest had fallen deathly silent when the deserter of the sannin had laid eyes on them, as if the trees themselves were terrified of incurring his wrath, and thus Sakura hopes with everything within her that it's a sign that everything is going to be okay.
Sasuke doesn't say a word, not even as he holds out a hand to silently ask for her canteen so he can try to wipe down Naruto's brow once more before they depart. Sakura watches him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and taking in his expression. He looks concerned, which is understandable, but she wonders if he feels a little awkward around her after last night's conversation. She can't say she blames him… yesterday, she'd been allowed to witness a moment of gentleness that has her seeing Sasuke in a whole new light. That had to be the most raw and vulnerable that she'd ever seen or heard him be, and the fact that he'd apologised to her, had soothed her fears and let her know that it wasn't her fault, that was something Sakura would have never expected from him of all people.
What Sasuke had said last night had truly struck a chord in her—to hear from someone else that it wasn't entirely her fault that she was so unprepared took a burden from her heart that she hadn't even realised was slowly crushing her. Logically, she's always known that what Sasuke had said is right, that the Academy had allowed her to pass and become a kunoichi simply because her grades were good and her executions of the basics in ninjutsu and taijutsu were textbook-definition of passing. She wasn't given a hitai-ate because she was capable of being a shinobi, she wasn't given one because she was prepared for what she would inevitably face in her line of work, and not once had someone checked in with the civilian-born girl to make sure she really understood what she was getting into. She was passed because on the books she knew what she was doing, when in reality she couldn't be more clueless.
For the first time since Wave, Sakura feels like the weight of all the blame she'd taken upon her shoulders had lessened, even just a little. For the first time since Wave, Sakura is able to look in the mirror without leveling herself with every ounce of blame for everything that's ever gone wrong. For the first time since Wave, Sakura is finally able to admit that not everything is solely her fault. While she should have put in more effort to get stronger and be a reliable teammate, while she shouldn't have been so harsh to Naruto or as obsessive toward Sasuke, it was supposed to be her instructors' jobs to make sure that she was prepared. They had failed her. Konoha's system had failed her.
(Ginta-sensei will be so proud during their next session.)
"Stop staring at me like that," Sasuke's voice snaps her back to reality and she has the decency to look properly abashed. Sakura drops her gaze from his face and back to her pack, but not before she sees one corner of his lips quirk up in a—dare she even think it—openly teasing smirk. "It's creepy."
"Oh, shut up."
"That's rude. You're being rude, Sakura."
"I'll show you rude—"
Her threat is cut short by the startling sensation of a wet cloth slapping her in the face with a distinctly audible smack. (Oh, ew, is this the same one he was wiping Naruto's sweaty face with?) Sakura all but rips the cloth from her face with a high-pitched shriek that sounds almost like an angry kitten, her cheeks darkening with a mix of mortification and rage. (She is, however, at least happy to note that it's a clean cloth, since Naruto's is still pressed to his face.) She clenches her fist around the cloth and sends droplets of water trickling down her arm, reeling back in preparation to launch it at his face in retaliation, ever the picture of maturity and grace.
"Clean your face," Sasuke tells her with a roll of his eyes, turning back to packing his own bag. He doesn't even look vaguely threatened. "You're filthy."
Embarrassment lights through her body like fire in her veins, prickling from her scalp and searing down her entire body. She's sure her face is even brighter than her hair, cheeks burning so distinctly that she almost worries for a moment that perhaps she is the one with a fever, and it's with another mortified squeak that Sakura does the intelligent thing and buries her face in the chilled cloth without responding. She swears she hears Sasuke make an amused snort at her expense, which only serves to deepen her embarrassment, and so she resolves to ignore him for the rest of their time in camp. He's such a jerk, shannaro! Furiously, Sakura scrubs at her face until she's sure the redness of her cheeks can be blamed on her rough treatment instead of his teasing.
Satisfied with feeling at least somewhat clean and pointedly avoiding looking at the cloth that's now smeared with dirt and old blood, Sakura folds the cloth and puts it in a separate pouch of her pack. (She'd considered lobbing it at Sasuke's head while his back was turned, but at what cost to her dignity? He'd just catch it anyway.) One glance around herself confirms that she's all packed up and ready to go, and so she moves slowly to Naruto's side to dab the cloth against his damp skin before storing the cloth away with her own. Sakura worriedly presses her fingertips to his forehead again, wincing at the intensity of his fever, and immediately her mind begins to whirl with concerns for his health. The longer he stays at this temperature, the more dehydrated he can become—they need to get him to the hospital and get him hooked up to an IV, and they need to do it soon.
Sasuke's fingers flutter against her elbow, a wordless question in their code: Carry?
Nodding her head in confirmation, the two of them move in perfect unison to lift Naruto just off the grassy floor and inch him out of their hiding spot, with Sakura lifting his legs and Sasuke handling his torso. Once the three of them are free of the roots beneath the tree, Sakura kneels down so that Sasuke can help her lift Naruto's unconscious form onto her back, channeling the barest minimum of chakra into her muscles so that she can lift him without too much strain. Sasuke has decided to take point while Sakura carries their downed teammate, his sharingan already activated and scanning the area before they've even begun moving. He draws a single kunai and, with one last glance at Sakura, the two of them tear off in the direction of the tower with every ounce of speed they have in them.
If she's being completely honest with herself, Sakura spends every single second casting her eyes in every single direction, her mind whirling in double-time to not only keep a lookout but to also evenly supply chakra to several locations with absolute control. It's a difficult thing, managing chakra flow to her arms, legs, and eyes without damaging any nerves or muscles, but it's even more difficult to do all of that while also being aware of how much of a drain those enhancements create. (She'll have a headache later, she's sure, and no doubt her long term vision will suffer as a result… but it's better than blindly running through the forest and being unable to properly protect Naruto.) Though the drain isn't as intense as several shunshins in a row, it's still harder to manage and will wind up costing about the same by the time they make it to the tower—and that's only if there aren't any distractions on the way there.
She spends the entire run thinking of worst case scenarios: Orochimaru catching them off-guard, enemy shinobi surrounding them and taking them down in their haste, a friendly team (Ino, she would stop for Ino—) needing assistance. Sakura expects something, anything, to go wrong and hinder their mad dash for the finish line simply because that is their luck. Team Seven's jobs are never easy. Simple C-rank escort mission? Nah, that's really an A-rank escort mission because of the missing-nin targeting their client. Simple survival exercise for their promotion exams? Nah, S-rank survival mission because surprise! There's an S-class missing-nin targeting their teammate! With that line of luck, Sakura genuinely believes that her team exists solely to prove that Murphy's Law is accurate and thriving. At this point, she's waiting for some vengeful God to come swinging at them and declaring that, in their past lives, her team had somehow committed some grave sin warranting the extinction of the human race as retribution.
Surprisingly, the universe seems to have worked in their favour to prove Sakura's pessimism incorrect on this particular day, and nothing actually happens to deter them from reaching the tower. As the sun climbs higher and higher in the sky and the forest begins to thin around the massive tower's shadow, Sakura expects someone to come leaping out after them—but nothing happens. Nothing happens as they reach the entrance. Nothing happens as they tentatively open the door. Nothing happens as they step inside. Sasuke looks to Sakura, who stares right back at him, and nothing continues to happen as they stand there in total silence, the two of them completely lost on what the hell to do next.
Then, all at once, everything happens.
More ANBU agents than Sakura has ever wanted to see in her life suddenly fill the room, at least three covering each exit of the room and several positioned in lines against the walls. None of the agents are standing too near the three of them, but Sakura still inches closer to Sasuke and pivots to put Naruto between them—seeing two ANBU agents was enough for her yesterday, and she's counted thirteen in this room alone. Sakura is suddenly far too aware that she and Sasuke are outranked by several strangers that have them surrounded, strangers that could demand they hand their teammate over or face charges of insubordination. Her heart can't take this much stress. She just wants to get Naruto to a hospital, to somewhere that's safe. She wants a shower. She wants Ino. She wants—
"What happened to not giving your old sensei heart attacks?"
Kakashi-sensei.
Just like that, the sight of the one person she trusts to always protect the three of them against the world, to keep them safe, has all the tension in Sakura's body dissipating instantaneously. She drops like a marionette whose strings have just been cut clean through, stumbling forward into his chest and nearly dropping Naruto, who only manages to not hit the ground thanks to Sasuke catching him around the chest. Kakashi-sensei wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright, his grasp hesitant—as if he fears that she might crumble apart right there in his arms—and his other hand reaches out to catch Sasuke's shoulder. It's almost like a weird, stretched out group hug of sorts, and Sakura feels tears pooling in her eyes as she starts to giggle hysterically into Kakashi-sensei's flak vest. She's just so happy to see him.
We're safe, she repeats over and over again in her mind, a calming mantra that keeps the soul-deep ache of exhaustion at bay. We're okay.
"Kakashi—it's Naruto…" She hears Sasuke start, his voice uneven and noticeably more gruff than usual. She feels him shift behind her, moving closer to them, and feels a little bad for literally dropping the burden of Naruto against him without warning. His arms are pressing against her back, as close to joining a group hug as Sasuke will probably ever willingly come. "He's not waking up. He—"
"I know. Your escorts here filled me in." Well, that explains why no enemies had intercepted their mad dash for the tower—they'd had an ANBU perimeter without even realising. (Not many people would be willing to risk an encounter with this many ANBU agents, even a Sannin.) Kakashi-sensei shifts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side so he can take a look at Naruto's condition. Sakura's pretty sure she hears him swear under his breath as he touches Naruto's forearm, though whether it's from the height of Naruto's fever or the weird mark that had been left behind, she's not sure. "We need to get him to the hospital. You two can give me your reports there."
Sakura doesn't want to let go of Kakashi-sensei, suddenly feeling so very young and small as she clings to his side, but she manages to find the strength to step back so that he can gather Naruto into his arms. In this moment, pulling away feels like the hardest thing she's ever done. (He makes her feel safe, like she used to feel when she'd climb into bed with Papa after a nightmare—) Wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, Sakura swallows thickly and watches as Kakashi-sensei scoops Naruto's form into his arms. He looks so small and pale, curled up against Kakashi-sensei's flak vest like that, and she risks at a glance at her other teammate as he finally lets go of Naruto's jacket. She reaches out to take hold of Sasuke's sleeve between uncertain fingers, offering him a wobbly smile when he turns his pensive gaze onto her instead. It's sweet, she thinks to herself as Sasuke averts his gaze without pulling his arm from her grip, that he looked so hesitant to let go of Naruto… even for Kakashi-sensei.
"Mah, I'm getting too old for this—Sasuke, let Bird-san carry you. Sakura, you go with Boar-san." Kakashi-sensei's faux cheeriness feels hollow, falling flat between his students despite his best intentions, but Sakura can't really hold it against him. The curve of his eye-smile is strained, his shoulders no longer slouched as she's so used to seeing them, and Sakura feels like it will only get worse if she fights against the ANBU who steps up to her at Kakashi-sensei's order. "Sensei can't carry all three of you, you see."
Part of her thinks he's seriously considered trying anyway.
Sakura almost wants to argue that she can shunshin herself, that she can keep up with them, but she knows she couldn't get more than one medium-distance shunshin off before collapsing from chakra exhaustion. It's a bitter pill to swallow in the face of all that's happened—their encounter with Orochimaru has left Sakura with the inescapable knowledge that she's still not strong enough, not even after all her training or all their teamwork drills. All of her growth feels agonisingly insignificant in the shadow of the fugitive Sannin, like all of her accomplishments pale in comparison, and she feels so very weak and civilian after all that's happened.
So Sakura doesn't even flinch when Boar-san scoops her up in their arms, though she does hesitate to let go of Sasuke's sleeve, and she doesn't even bother closing her eyes as the world around her blurs with the kind of speed she yearns for.
The trip to the hospital is a blur, and not because Sakura has let herself drift away—ANBU apparently wastes no time in tense situations like this, and so their caravan does not stall even for a moment until they've reached an empty hospital room with four beds and a harried looking nurse waiting for them. Sakura's too exhausted and high-strung to ignore the way the nurse grimaces at Naruto, the twist of her lips leaving her looking like she'd eaten something disgusting, and so Sakura doesn't even bother hiding the way she bares her teeth at her in a blatantly aggressive gesture.
(She's pleased to note Kakashi's eye narrowing at the nurse and Sasuke's scowl etched deeply into his face as well.)
The ANBU make themselves scarce, Bird-san and Boar-san vanishing in a hail of leaves as soon as Sakura and Sasuke's feet are on the ground. (On a better day, she'd remark on how rude they are to leave messes for others to clean up.) The two genin move closer to Naruto's side as Kakashi places him on the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed, unwilling to take their eyes off of him despite the way the nurse—who is now pleasantly silent and looking anywhere but them, Sakura notes with glee—bustles around him to hook him up to the IV and check his vitals. She's swift to follow the ANBU agents' example, scurrying from the room without another glance back, and Sakura doesn't even bother to hide her vindictive grin as she watches the nurse go. As the door shuts, Sakura sees the ANBU stationed outside the door, and briefly Sakura wonders if all this security is solely because of Orochimaru's appearance or if there's something more.
A soft sigh brings Sakura's attention back to Kakashi-sensei, and she swears she sees him age at least ten years before her very eyes as he looks down at Naruto's prone form on the bed. He reaches out with a trembling hand to brush Naruto's hair from his forehead, golden strands plastered to his face with sweat, and Sakura notices the way Kakashi's hand hovers over his face for a long moment, fingers clenching and unclenching into a fist before dropping like a weight to his side. He looks so worn, so sad, and Sakura's breath catches in her throat as she watches him slump into the plastic chair beside Naruto with another worldless sigh.
"What's wrong with him?" Sasuke demands after a moment, his voice hoarse with emotion. Sakura looks at him from the corner of her eye, swallowing thickly at the look of desperate anger written in plain, concise characters along the planes of his face.
Naruto had taken that blow for him. Naruto is suffering in Sasuke's place, taking whatever Orochimaru had been planning for Sasuke upon himself without hesitation, and Sasuke is clearly struggling with how to deal with that. She may not know Sasuke as well as Naruto seems to—as where Sakura is closer with Kakashi-sensei, the boys are closer to one another—but she does know him well enough to know that he hasn't a single clue as to how to wrap his mind around the events of yesterday. He wants to know what's happened to Naruto, wants to know exactly what to blame Orochimaru for, so that he can add the Sannin to his ever-growing list of People He's Going To Brutally Murder In The Name Of Revenge.
"Why don't the two of you tell sensei what happened?" Kakashi-sensei proposes instead, not even bothering for the facade of nonchalance as he runs weary hands over his masked face.
Sakura sends up a silent prayer of thanks to Iruka-sensei for his lessons on giving mission reports, her mouth moving mechanically as she recounts yesterday's events with clinical detail in much the same way as she had for Anko-san. It's easy for her to take a mental and emotional backseat in the midst of her methodical explanation, her brain turning instead to ponder at the strange tension that seems to permeate the room even after the ANBU had left. Something else is going on—this is more than just Orochimaru, and she recalls what Anko had said the previous day.
We need to call in the specialist for this case. Top priority.
"Something big is wrong with Naruto, isn't it?" She asks before she can stop herself, her question cutting through the tail end of her report with a sense of urgency Sakura can't really define. Something unpleasant is roiling in her stomach, fear settling in the pit of her stomach like lead, and the feeling only intensifies as Kakashi-sensei glances her way with his single eye filled with more blatant concern than she's ever seen on him.
"I don't have the clearance to answer that," Kakashi-sensei's voice is pitched low, his tone laced with the desperate plea for their understanding, "but he's going to be okay. We've sent a request for urgent help."
"Like hell you can't tell us," Sasuke snarls in response, his fists trembling at his sides as he steps even closer to Naruto's bedside.
"I can't," Kakashi-sensei reiterates without the usual bite to his bark, "this is an S-class ranked state secret. Teammates or not, two genin don't have the clearance to that kind of information."
Sakura can see Sasuke physically rearing back to raise his voice, his frustration clear on his face and in the taut lines of his body, and she knows this moment is far too fragile for angry words to be exchanged. They're all pulling apart at the seams with stress, both from their own harrowing experiences and from worry for Naruto, and she knows that once this situation is allowed to spiral, Sasuke will pull away from all of them. She can't handle that—not right now, not with Naruto looking so small and delicate against the hospital sheets. Sakura reaches out to lay her hand against Sasuke's shoulder, her touch a mere whisper against the fabric of his shirt, but it's enough for him to jerk his dark eyes to look at her, his expression twisted with grief and guilt.
"Kakashi-sensei has probably already told us more than he really should have," Sakura murmurs, her voice pitched low as she tries to soothe both Sasuke's budding fury and Kakashi-sensei's seemingly endless grief. "We can trust him to tell us what we need to know whenever he can—right, Kakashi-sensei?"
"Of course," he replies, his lone eye seeming to soften with fondness as he turns his gaze to Sakura's face.
Sasuke stares at her in silence for a long moment, jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggles between logic and losing himself to his emotions, dark eyes flickering from her face to her shoulder and back again. After a moment of a seemingly vicious internal struggle, Sasuke finally deflates before her eyes with a sigh, his shoulders hunching and his fists hanging lax by his sides. He wilts and sags against the side of Naruto's hospital bed, dark eyes hidden behind strands of midnight hair and leaving Sakura unable to read his expression.
"You still have three days before the next stage begins."
Sakura and Sasuke's heads snap up in unison, offended rebuttals on the tips of their tongues, caustic denials and snarls of how could you even suggest we continue without Naruto curling against their teeth. As if they'd keep going now, in the wake of all that's happened—as if they'd even consider trying for chūnin without Naruto. It's all of them or none of them, like Kakashi-sensei has always taught them. A shinobi who abandons their teammates are even worse than trash.
"You both know Naruto wouldn't want you to sacrifice the exams for his sake." Kakashi-sensei holds his hands up before himself as if in surrender, his eyes on Naruto's flushed profile as he speaks, his attention clearly pinned on their downed teammate despite his words being directed toward the two of them. "He won't be ready before the time limit is up, but Anko fought tooth and nail for the three of you to still qualify for the next round. The Hokage agreed—probably because no one's seen Anko ask for anything that won't cause an international incident before."
"Anko-san would do no such thing," Sakura quips breathlessly, still torn but unable to not defend the proctor that had rescued them.
"It's cute that you think that."
"So… we have three days to train?" Sasuke cuts in, annoyance seeping into his tone. He still doesn't drag his gaze from Naruto's face, his expression shrouded in shadows. "For the next round, I mean."
"Ah, no. Not quite…" Kakashi-sensei leans back in his little plastic chair, hands folded over his stomach. "You're not allowed an unfair advantage over the other contestants, who will be staying in the tower once they get there. In the eyes of some, you already have enough of one by being here in the hospital. You'll have to rest, like you'd be permitted in the tower, until it's time to go back."
"So you'll be watching us to make sure we don't train?" Sakura asks, brow furrowed with disappointment. If they're still going to participate—though she's still wracked with guilt over the mere idea of it—she'd like to perhaps take the time to better hone her shunshin.
"I won't be leaving Naruto's side," Kakashi-sensei confesses, pulling out a kunai in order to press the blade to the pad of his thumb, "but if either of you want to leave the hospital, I have some escorts for you."
Sakura only has a moment to stare at their jōnin commander in bewilderment before he swings his arm back, slapping his palm against the wall behind him with an audible clap. Black characters swirl outward in an intricate design from his hand, seals crawling along the surface of the hospital wall like a plane of glass spiderwebbing outward from the point of impact. Jikūkan ninjutsu, she realises with a shock of awe. Kakashi-sensei has a summoning contract!
A puff of smoke appears around them, the force of it throwing Sakura's shorn hair back, and she can't help the eagerness that wells in her stomach. She'd only ever read of summoning contracts before, and it's something she desperately wants to have one day, so to see it in action is something that allows warmth to seep into her battered, cold limbs.
Sakura finds herself surrounded by eight canines of various sizes, each of them wearing a hitae-ate somewhere on their body to show their affiliation. Though her mind immediately makes the connection to the Inuzuka clan's dogs, the chorus of greetings spoken in human tongue that fills the room gives Sakura pause. As where the ninken of the Inuzuka clan aren't able to speak, it seems that those Kakashi-sensei has contracted can communicate with more than just their partner. Sakura's analytical mind whirls with questions, picking apart the theory of it all and wondering if perhaps one day even she could make a contract of her own.
(Maybe Team Seven could share a contract. Something good for tracking. Something to help them find Itachi and Orochimaru.)
"Everyone, this is my genin team. Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto." Sakura wonders if she perhaps imagines the way Kakashi-sensei's voice wavers on the blonde's name, or the way the ninken surrounding him look mournfully toward the bed with such soul-deep worry that it leaves Sakura feeling more than a little breathless. "Sakura, Sasuke—this is the pack. They will act as your supervisors for the duration of the second challenge."
"So these are the pups, huh?" The deep, gravelly voice of the small pug is somewhat comical against the serious backdrop of Naruto's hospital room. It kind of makes Sakura want to cry. "Nice to meet you. I'm Pakkun."
"Bull," grumbles the large bulldog that's hulking down by Kakashi-sensei's side. He looks dangerous, and not just because of his size.
"Urushi," chimes in a small, tan and white dog that's currently peering at Sasuke's face with obvious interest.
"Shiba," the grey and white dog to Sakura's left proclaims, wagging his tail with a lop-sided doggy grin aimed her way.
"Bisuke," a small tan dog weaves his way around the hospital bed to get a better look at Sasuke and Sakura, and Sakura wonders if Sasuke would murder her for comparing the two of them in looks.
"Akino." That dog is wearing sunglasses. Sakura will never be able to take this dog seriously ever again.
"Ūhei," a medium-sized red and white dog introduces himself with obvious eagerness, planting himself on Sakura's right.
"Guruko," says a dog that she'd almost compare to ginger in colour, whose face reminds her painfully of the sunshine boy laying silently in the hospital bed.
The comparison sobers any excitement she'd felt bubbling in her chest. Naruto would have loved to meet the ninken. He would have boisterously played with them and introduced himself, and he somehow would have made befriending them a challenge between Sasuke and himself. It would have been a loud and messy affair, but it would have been warm and beautiful, like Sunday morning breakfast before her mother's bitterness toward Sakura's choice in profession had pushed a wedge between them.
"Now, if you want to leave the hospital for any reason, you'll have to be supervised by a member of the pack." Kakashi-sensei leans his head back against the wall, his voice sounding worn and tired, like the sigh of a favourite leather-bound book opening in the dead of night when she can't sleep. "No training is allowed, but if you have somewhere you need to go for the next two days—say, an appointment with one Yamanaka Ginta-san—now would be the time."
Sakura jolts a little, surprised at the pointed look Kakashi-sensei sends her way, and finds herself nodding her head as if he'd asked her a question. "I was going to go talk to Ginta-sensei today if I could…"
Kakashi nods slowly, his eyes traveling to her shorn hair with obvious concern, and Sakura swallows thickly against the sudden lump in her throat. She both loves and hates how it feels like Kakashi-sensei can see through her, straight to her very soul, without always needing her to use words to convey her thoughts or emotions. In that one stare, she feels a weighty understanding pass between them, his lone eye softening with something that's not quite pity. It leaves a warmth in the pit of her stomach, like the lingering warmth after a full bowl of ramen on a cold winter's night. It makes her feel understood, as if her breakdown was completely normal, as if Kakashi-sensei were patting her head and saying you did good, Sakura-chan.
Blinking against the sudden urge to cry, Sakura says, "I'd like to go tomorrow, if that's okay. I don't want to leave him right now."
(She doesn't say who—Naruto, Sasuke, or Kakashi-sensei—but she thinks they both know she means all three of her boys.)
"Ah," Kakashi-sensei nods, "then pull up a bit of chair, my cute little genin."
August 4th 996 — Konohagakure
Upon waking, Sakura's first thought is that hospital chairs should be classified as torture devices under common law. They surely are designed so poorly in order to keep people out of the hospital.
Her second thought is that she's awfully warm. She's covered in dogs, heads in laps or sprawled across feet in a furry dog-pile of sleep and affection, with Kakashi-sensei's arm draped across hers and Sasuke's shoulders, Sasuke's own collarbone digging into her back as he slumps against her side in a restless sleep. Her groggy brain can't seem to process the image of a sleeping Sasuke, eyebrows furrowed as his dreams are still plagued no doubt by concern for Naruto, his body bowing around her in an uncharacteristic way. It's hard to reconcile her image of Sasuke—gruff, emotionally distant, generally aloof and sometimes even bitingly cruel—with a young boy that cuddles when distressed, his arms crossed over his own stomach but his legs and face drawn close to Sakura for comfort.
He'd hate it if he realised she'd seen him like this, she realised with a start. Their relationship as friends and as a team hangs in a precarious position, and Sakura has no doubt that he'd be pushed too far by being seen cuddling due to his own unease and worry about Naruto.
Despite wishing they were at a point where she wouldn't have to worry about him pulling away and shattering their still-budding camaraderie, Sakura closes her eyes and evens her breathing, shifting her shoulder—and thus jostling Sasuke into alertness—while still appearing to be in a deep sleep. She feels Sasuke awaken with a jolt, pulling away from her almost violently, and Sakura has to work to keep her breathing steady lest she give herself away with the frantic beating of her heart.
After a few seconds of staring her down, probably willing her to give up the farce and admit she was awake the whole time, she feels Sasuke stand and move away from the pile of ninken and his team. She waits patiently, timing her breathing to the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock on the wall over her head and counting silently in her head. After sixty-seven breaths, Sakura allows herself the charade of waking with a groan, stretching her arms overhead and blearily blinking at Naruto's form on the sheets, catching Sasuke in her peripheral gaze staring down at their downed teammate from the other side of the hospital bed.
It's as Sakura opens her mouth to bid Sasuke a good morning that the door to their room slams open with such fanfare that Sasuke isn't the only one who hurls a kunai toward the stranger in the doorway.
"Woah-ho there, kiddos! You'd better be careful, you could hurt someone with those!" The man who steps into the room cheerfully twirls the pair of kunai he'd caught with such ease and grace that Sakura felt she'd tinged green with envy, his broad face highlighted with a grin that achingly reminds her of Naruto's own sunshine-smiles. He has hair, quite a bit of it, white as freshly fallen snow and hanging down to his ankles in what must be the most impractical style ever. (Sakura feels a twinge of jealousy, her hand itching to reach up to her shorn hair.) "This is a hospital, y'know? You shouldn't go around hucking these at just anyone!"
Sasuke snarls not unlike a dog, placing himself firmly between Naruto and the stranger, and Sakura doesn't hesitate to jump to her own feet with trembling limbs and the ice-cold fear heavy with purpose in her gut.
"Mah, Jiraiya-sama, you'll have to forgive my cute students." Sakura had been so tense that the sound of Kakashi-sensei's voice behind her made her jump, like her muscles were a cord pulled taught until it snapped under the weight of a feather, and she lurches under the comforting hand of her sensei that rests on her shoulder. "They've had a rough few days, as I'm sure you've heard by now. Hypervigilance isn't uncommon in the wake of events like this, ne?"
Sakura was sure she wasn't the only one who noticed the subtle threat underlying Kakashi-sensei's words.
"Yeah, yeah, that's my bad." The man, Jiraiya-sama, looked at least somewhat abashed as he closed the door behind him and pocketed Sakura and Sasuke's kunai. She saw Sasuke bristle at the movement, but he didn't shift out of Jiraiya's way as the shinobi strode closer to Naruto's bedside. Sasuke was puffed up like an offended cat, quietly snarling as he stared down the man that had been identified as yet another Sannin.
"You're here because of Orochimaru." It wasn't a question. Sakura stared up at the older man with a look of shock, horror twinging in her gut. We're going to have to call in the specialist for this one, Anko had said. Top priority, she'd said. Sakura's mind immediately began digging for facts she'd memorised about the Sannin's specialties: Orochimaru had delved into body manipulation and other things she'd rather not think about, while Tsunade-sama had revolutionised the medic core and boasted superhuman strength. Jiraiya was the trio's own sealmaster, she recalled silently. The wandering Toad Sage, whose skill in sealing was only outclassed by the shinobi of the long-fallen Uzushiogakure, was the pride of Konoha for excelling in an art so often neglected.
She felt more than saw Sasuke's immediate shift at her words, his defensive posture deflating with the knowledge that Jiraiya was here to help Naruto. Naruto, who was lying silently in bed behind them. Naruto, who was suffering in Sasuke's place. Naruto, whose absence they both felt as keenly as if someone had carved them open and taken a piece of them. Something vital, something they'd never realised they loved with such fierceness until faced with the very real threat of losing it.
(He can't die.)
"Yeah. You could say that part of my job description is cleaning up the messes my former teammate leaves." Jiraiya's eyes slide from Sakura's expression to Naruto's profile against the white sheets. His skin is pale and damp with sweat, his usual tanned complexion washed out and almost grey in the dull morning light. "From what I was told, Naruto here wasn't the intended target?"
"No," Sasuke's voice is even, though gruff, his eyes hidden behind the dark curtain of his hair, "Orochimaru was aiming for me, but Naruto got between us…"
Sakura swallows thickly at the obvious despair colouring Sasuke's words, his shoulders hunched and his posture strained. She sees Kakashi-sensei and Jiraiya-sama share a look over their heads, mutual understanding passing between them, and then she sees Kakashi-sensei pull out his little orange book for the first time since they'd reunited with him.
"Sasuke, why don't you and I go to Naruto's apartment to check on his plants?" Kakashi waves away the immediate denial they can all see building in Sasuke's chest, gesturing to the Sannin who is now standing over the blonde. "Jiraiya-sama has to take care of Orochimaru's little gift, and he needs space. Besides, Naruto would be devastated if we didn't take care of his little friends' needs."
Once more, Sasuke deflates, sagging like a balloon whose air was let out all in one go. He gives Naruto's form one last, long glance before turning on his heel and marching out the door, his movements jerky and clearly agitated.
"Sakura-chan, you have an appointment with Ginta-san at eleven," his eye curls in mischievous glee as he turns to her, "and would you look at that! It's already ten fifty-three!"
He knows exactly which buttons to press on his only female student, as intimately aware as he is of her ingrained good-kid tendencies. He knows the mere idea of showing up any less than ten minutes early for any summoning or appointment makes her nauseous, and even now he can see the panic swell in her eyes as she looks between him and the clock on the wall, mouth gaping like a dead fish. He chuckles under his breath as she puffs up at him, cheeks burning with the indecision between shrieking at him or melting into an embarrassed puddle before one of the legendary Sannin, before she runs from the room in a dead sprint.
"Those kids of yours sure are something," Jiraiya mutters.
"They sure are," Kakashi agrees.
"I can see why Hatake-san classified this meeting as an emergency," Yamanaka Ginta states, his expression controlled despite the surprise Sakura can see in his bright eyes. She sees his eyes trail over the mess of her hair, which she hasn't even had the chance to brush thanks to Kakashi-sensei's ambush, and has to hold back a flinch of self-consciousness as she follows Ginta-sensei into his office.
She sits in the plush little chair in the left-hand corner of the room, the one that can't be seen from the window but has a clear vantage point of the entrance and the rest of the room. Hypervigilance, Ginta-sensei had told her, was not always necessarily a bad thing in a kunoichi. Still, she'd seen the way he'd noted her immediate retreat into this particular spot despite the more comfortable chairs available on the far wall, and the next time she'd come to his office he'd put a plush chair in what became Sakura's spot.
"So," Ginta-sensei sits a respectful distance from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and rest in chin against his folded hands, "why don't you tell me how you're feeling today, Sakura-chan?"
Anxiety skitters up the base of her skull, millions of spiders below her flesh, burrowing holes in her bones. She aches to scratch at the vivid red scarring across her torso, fire ants bubbling beneath the claw marks that have branded her for life, at the smallest reminder of the forest. She swallows hard, her throat suddenly dry and fingers quaking with the fear she'd felt permeating the air around her in the shadows of those massive trees, and she sees the worried glint in Ginta-sensei's eyes. She uses it to ground herself, to focus on the here and now, telling herself over and over that she's safe here.
"In the forest… we were attacked by this thing. A monster." Sakura swallows and averts her eyes from her therapist's watchful gaze, crossing her arms over her chest as if to keep herself from physically coming apart like a doll whose joints are too loose. "The proctors said he was Orochimaru of the Sannin."
Ginta-sensei's sucked in breath startles Sakura, and she turns to look at his expression as he jolts from his desk and walks to the privacy seals he always activates for their sessions along the walls. Sakura watches with no amount of shock as Ginta-sensei bites his thumb and hurriedly inks out an addendum to one of the seals, his blood pulsing with chakra that blankets the room. Sakura blinks, feeling oddly muffled, like she's under a heavy comforter, hidden from the rest of the world.
"Forgive me, Sakura-chan," Ginta-sensei offers Sakura a faint smile, moving back to his seat with an apologetic nod of his head, "this is simply classified as an S-class interview right now, so the added seals are merely a precaution. Everything you say stays in this room, just like our usual sessions, unless you have any kind of information that I deem is a threat to the village."
Until this exact moment, Sakura hadn't really grasped just how big of a deal what they'd endured really was. Her even mentioning Orochimaru was enough to make Yamanaka Ginta, a now retired saboteur Jōnin-captain, go from laid-back caring therapist to hard-edged, elite killer. Kakashi-sensei had seemed more than a little concerned for Naruto. Jiraiya-sama had seemed grim as he looked at Naruto.
"We're just kids," Sakura's voice is thin and thready, tears spilling down her cheeks at the sudden realisation of just how messed up all of this really is. Not even a year ago she was trying on clothes in stores with Ino, laughing and daydreaming of a future in which they'd own a house together and fill it with plants and be the dynamic kunoichi duo of Konohagakura. It had been bright, a future so brilliant and tangible that Sakura could taste it on her tongue, sweet as honey.
They were children, and no one had really, truly prepared them for what they were going to become. The Academy hadn't prepared them for Zabuza, for Haku, for those mercenaries lying dead at Sakura's feet, or for the horror of Orochimaru descending upon them. Sakura hadn't known, Sasuke hadn't known, Naruto hadn't known. (Maybe that's why Kakashi-sensei failed so many genin, maybe he didn't want to be responsible for children's blood on his hands.) It just wasn't fair.
Sakura can feel Ginta-sensei's heavy gaze on her shoulders, silent as Sakura weeps for the loss of childlike innocence. For once, she doesn't feel like a disappointment to her village.
No, she feels disappointed in her village.
10/01/2020: Oof, been a while since I updated. I've seen all your comments and your private messages, and I apologise for the long wait! My mental health hasn't been in top shape given the current state of affairs recently, so I just ask people to please be patient with me.
I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I've written and rewritten it dozens of times, trying to make sure it wasn't too rushed while still, y'know, expressing the urgency of the situation at hand. It's a hard line to walk gfhdjghdjf
I hope everyone's staying safe! Hopefully my next update won't take that long.