1. Through fire and blood we rise
"Maybe we are broken. But we put ourselves back together. We survived. That's what makes us so powerful." - V.E. Schwab, Vengeful
I ran blindly through the overwhelming darkness of my soul, trying to reach the end of this infinite abyss of hell in which death whispered sweet nothingness in my ear, drawing me to touch it, with its roar of ice. Fear gripped me in her endless black cloak, painfully tightening the azure chains around my malnourished body. The whole world groaned under the unbearable weight of death - the merciless barbed whip of fate had fallen on the innocent without guilt. I had the impression that I was going to be shattered by the burden of illusions, like a delicate flower under the fiery rays of the scorching sun. I would burn, melted in the hot flames of disaster, and dissolve like a beautiful lost dream.
"Is that what the lower realm looks like?" I wondered to myself, trembling like a string, driven by a mad horror that clotted my blood in my veins, turning my limbs into worn, useless, heavy lead-like weapons.
In solitude, on the deserted battlefield, walking fearfully through the rotting corpses staring at me with their hollow, out-of-orbit eyes, their faces twisted in pain, feeling menacingly close to the poisoned claws of the end, clenched around my fragile neck. All around me, the world I knew, that idyllic world I used to look through the innocent eyes of a child, was slowly but surely heading for imminent destruction. Devilish burning flames rose above the distant horizon, swallowing hungry village after village, leaving behind bitter ash ruins. The infernal blaze storm hit my dirty face, digging into my flesh acid wounds that stung and the heat from the atmosphere stung my throat, melting my guts. I felt like I was going to turn to dust and powder myself.
The poor wretches were burning alive in the midst of a bloody conflict of interest, from which the needy poor had only to lose. The pungent smell of rot floating in the air, mingling with the stench of burnt flesh and boiling blood turned my stomach upside down, and the feeling of vomiting in my throat grew and grew.
I felt helpless, lost. My body ached and as if it had been passed through fire and sword and the pain in my chest, that excruciating pain that took my breath away was unbearable. Streams of hot tears ran down my puffy cheeks, leaving traces in the dried mud, and without realizing it, my sobs became far too loud.
This was my first mistake.
I lost control of my own feelings, letting them burn, consuming like an untamed force of nature. I was crying loudly, turning me, without realizing it, into a target.
The rebels, proud wearers of katanas who stood imposingly in their precious sheath, on their belts, far too preoccupied with shamelessly robbing the breathless bodies lying on the reddish dust, heard me and turned to me. I started running again, trying my best to ignore the signals my body was sending me - I was struggling to forget the pain. I was aware of what might have happened to me if I had been caught; I had seen this before. Whether they were innocent children just like me, women in their prime, or helpless old women, it didn't matter to them anyway.
But why would he be interested? They were men - they had the power so their own pleasure was the most important thing. We lived in a small greedy world, run by men for men.
I would have run a lot longer, because in a distant corner of my mind blurred by hunger resounded the last words of my father, before the spear of the barbarian mercilessly pierced his chest, under the horrified eyes of me and my mother: "I want for you to be free, Sakura! You must be the light! And the storm! And salvation! Make your own way and keep your goodness! " but the body could no longer support me. I couldn't even remember the last time I ate anything. The people around me, the few who remained grounded in the area, lost their sense of reason and the last piece of humanity was abducted by the terrible war we were waging. Kindness had become just a word with abstract connotations whose meaning was lost somewhere in the past of a better world.
"She's there, you idiot! Catch her! " I heard them from somewhere nearby.
That's when I made the second mistake. I stopped.
I was dazed with fear and more and more aware that the inevitable was closer than I could have wished — the icy breath of disaster blew into my neck and cold sweat ran down my spine. They caught me. They threw me violently to the ground, rolling me through the fresh mud, pulling like horny dogs from my shabby clothes. With a rusty kunai, stained with dry blood, they tore my faded old Obi, exposing my fragile body. The roundness of my budding body was now revealed to their euphoric eyes, driven mad by the carnal desire to feel the warmth of a woman's body. My slender thighs, now bare from the cheap material of my old pink kimono, were now caught in a vise by their strong hands, forcing me to open up to them. Their harsh hands, full of forbidden desires, dripped unhindered along my frail body, leaving traces of shame that will forever be imprinted in my soul that emptied as their hands descended to my femininity. I felt my body stained.
I screamed desperately, hit and did everything in my power to defend myself, but everything seemed in vain.
"Please sir ... no ... no ...!" I begged them in the final voice of a hopeless infant.
They didn't stop ... I'm not even sure they noticed my pathetic whispers. They were intoxicated with the sensation of the sight before their eyes. I could feel his erect member, pressed against my thigh, dangerously close to the core of my feminine essence, pulsing with a fierce desire to feel, through the thin linen material of the hakama.
"Keep your mouth shut, little girl! You'll enjoy!" the one in front leaned toward me, grinning ostentatiously, baring his crooked, yellow teeth, breathing in the stench of his morning breath.
I felt as their touches became more indecent, more greedy that I was becoming more and more unworthy to live on this earth. They held my small breasts in their cold palms, pinching my pink nipples, hardened by the cold wind that hissed nervously through the lifeless branches of the trees. In my chest I could feel my heart in my throat, beating fast. The foreign arms that hugged me, leaving behind bruises on my white skin, held me captive.
I could hear their evil laughter, reading on their ugly faces the joy that my suffering was causing them.
I was about to give up, to accept my fate and the position of victim, feeling powerless in the face of the serious situation I was in. But he appeared - tumultuous as a storm, cold as the torrential rain in the middle of the summer monsoon, looking menacingly at the two men who held me captive.
At that time, all I could do was stare, frightened, as the imposing man beside me, who seemed to have emerged from nowhere, pointed his sharp katana, glued to the blood of his enemies, at the two of them. Bathed in the cold moonlight, his long black hair floated in the wind, like snowflakes that had just begun to fall. An air of mystery floated around him, a thick mist that made me shiver, that froze my blood in my veins, making time to stop for a moment from his mad rush.
He was like a charming prince - my prince. He had a kind of nobility in his gestures, ample, ceremonious; a specific preciousness that made me think of him as an omnipotent god, able to bring universal peace with him. I couldn't remember ever seeing a man as handsome as him.
I couldn't compare him to anyone else. It was the dream of a starry summer night, in which the warm breeze caressed a child's cheeky cheeks, bringing with it the scent of freshness. The son of the rich peasants of my old village was far too far from the image of the ideal masculinity displayed by the imposing man who had emerged from the mysterious mist of the night. They were always dirty, although their precious clothes were carefully cared for by their old maids. They always seemed to be concerned about their appearance, although, paradoxically, they were never properly cared for. They did not carry weapons, at most a dry wooden stick with which they used to run the goats out of their yard, and they would never have the courage to defend anyone - not even themselves. They always displayed a mocking smile, unequivocally showing their contempt for people in need.
The mysterious man was certainly a shinobi - one who was part of the ninja elite, according to his uniform that was distinguished by sobriety. He wore a forehead protector inscribed with the symbol of the Allied Shinobi Forces, and on his right arm was tattooed the ancient symbol of old Konoha.
"Could I feel safe with him here?" I wondered to myself again.
"Get the hell out of her, worms!" my savior thundered in a low voice. He had a masculine voice, as deep as an endless abyss that aroused unknown feelings in me.
The two men ignored him shamelessly.
"I said get the hell out of her!" he repeated, to no avail.
"What's the matter with you, kid?" Need some fun? Come on, put your sword down and undress! " said the one between my legs, stroking my pelvic area with his long, filthy fingers, removing the underwear I was wearing.
I swallowed hard, longing for the earth to split and swallow me into its bottomless depths.
"I suggest you get away from the girl! This is the last time I repeat! "
They looked at him like nothing - to them it was a beetle crushed by the perforated sole of an old wooden hoof; a negligible amount in an anonymous world. Nobody paid attention to him.
That was when I first saw absolute power.
As if in a nightmare, I saw a purple light shining in the mist of night, demonically illuminating the surroundings, followed by a metallic roar and their awful screams. Then came a dull silence in which only the wind had the courage to hiss. One shot of the katana was enough for the aggressors to get away scared, running away throwing ash clouds behind them.
He then turned to me, looking at me with red eyes, demons awakening in me an uncontrollable terror. I pulled away slightly from him, crawling on the cold ground, covered in a pool of bloody ice. I was still naked in front of him - my kimono fluttered in the breeze. Instinctively, I covered my nakedness with shame with my bruised arms, in a stupid attempt to hide.
He took a step toward me.
"Please, no ..." I cried helplessly.
"I will not hurt you! Trust me, I'm not like them ... "he whispered softly as he knelt in front of me, reaching my level. His eyes had changed color, becoming like two onyx pearls that shone shyly in the night. "I think you're freezing! Look, I'll put my cape on you. Are you fine with that? "
I nodded, then felt the black cloak falling heavily on my bare shoulders. The warmth of his coat enveloped me, protecting me like a mother. The masculine scent flooded my nostrils - an exotic scent of power, defining the manhood that permeated a sense of security in my soul.
"Can you tell me your name, little one?"
"My name is Haruno Sakura, sir!"
"I am Itachi. Will you let me take you to our camp to take care of you? "
"Yes, sir!"
I had no way of knowing that that frosty winter night, in which the bloody moon reigned over the dark sky that sparked foreboding, would dramatically change my destiny. It was the catalyst of a tumultuous life in which I dedicated my whole existence trying to prove that power is in my hands.
It was the moment I emerged like the Pheonix bird from my misery. The moment I shyly stepped into the makeshift camp on the outskirts of the forest was when Uchiha Mikoto, the proud matriarch of the Uchiha clan, decided to take me under her angel wing and raise me as her own children.
"Saaaaakura - Chaan" I heard little Chio's tickling cry, waking up from my daydream "Mikoto Ladyship is waiting for you in the summer garden to have tea together!"
...
Hello everyone, I came back with a new idea that I am very, very excited about and I can't wait to continue writing the next chapter.
In case you didn't understand very well, this chapter is a flashback from Sakura's past in which I explain how she ended up being raised by Mikoto. Don't be fooled by appearances, it's not a story about Itachi and Sakura but about Shisui and Sakura. I saw that there are extremely few stories with the two and I think it's a shame.
Obviously, I don't own the Naruto series and this story is rated M for a good reason.
The action also takes place somewhere in history, at a time when women had very few rights and were often seen as objects, and Sakura aims to be the change.
Anyway, I hope I caught your attention with this first chapter, and thank you to those who broke their time to take a look.
Stay safe!