Born Weapons
Arc I
Face the Future
Chapter III
Haruno Sakura
"It's fitting, that we carve them on the mountain. From up there, we must all look so small."
-Inuzuka Mokuba
Konohagakure Regent
Haruno Sakura was wed on a cold autumn day in the heart of the Uchiha compound.
It was nothing like the wedding she had imagined for herself. The Haruno were a young clan, founded within the walls of Konohagakure. By the scale that measured the lives of families they were practically infants, and their founders had made a conscious decision to unchain themselves from past tradition. Their marriages were sparse, stark, and understated.
But now Sakura found herself in the middle of a marriage officiated according to the tenants of the Sage of Six Paths, he who gave life and light and flame. It was a Shinobi wedding, the result of a thousand years of ritual and custom – a complicated affair, which could often last all day and involved at least three costume changes.
It began at dawn, when what seemed like a horde of women, her maids for the day, dragged her from her bed to enjoy a long soak in the hot springs. Every inch of her skin was purified with oils, strong hands ground the knots from her muscles, her face was adorned with paints. Finally her hair was fashioned into an elaborate topknot, which twisted endlessly in on itself like some enormous snake, held in place by a silver comb. She missed the sway of her braid on her back and shoulders, but looking in the mirror she couldn't deny that the style made her look a princess. Then three giggling servants squeezed her into a dress so colorful and ornate that she was forced to shed her illusions of nobility and resign herself to life as a peacock.
Breakfast was a long, languid affair, with several courses that all had to be served and eaten in a specific order to ensure health, wealth and purity. The maids chattered on endlessly about the latest gossip, and whether the clouds could really speak of good fortune or if that was merely a silly Nara superstition. Her parents fawned over her endlessly, telling her how proud they were that she had finally achieved her dream.
Tomorrow she would be Chunin, a goal she had strived for her whole life. But this was not her dream.
Her parents weren't Shinobi. They heard Chunin, and they assumed everything had gone according plan. So Sakura smiled and laughed, and gave them no cause to worry. Strange, how easy it was to project a confidence she didn't feel. Such was the heart of being Shinobi.
After breakfast her maids whisked her away again to prepare for the beginning of the ceremony proper. Luckily this was only a costume change, shedding the elaborate breakfast monstrosity for a simple, sleeveless black shift. The maids made sure her hair was still in order, touched up her makeup, and led her out to the yard. The crowd had already gathered – hundreds of Shinobi and civilian servants, all teeming with anticipation. Shinobi weddings were typically performed in much larger batches than this, on days chosen for religious or historical purposes, and it had been some months since the last ceremony. The people were eager for a chance, an excuse, to cut loose. The sheer number of them made Sakura's head swim, and she knew that more would filter in as their schedules allowed. Shinobi was a round the clock profession, after all.
At the urging of her maids she began the long walk through the crowd, focusing on the feeling of grass between her toes. Shinobi women apparently married without shoes, though nobody could tell her exactly why. Smiling faces flashed before her as the crowd parted, making a path. She could easily pick her father's shock of pink hair out from the crowd of blacks and browns and silvers. He had an arm around her mother, both of them looking unbelievably proud and just a little bit sad.
The last of the crowd parted and she joined Naruto at its head, exchanging uneasy smiles with him. The blond was dressed in white pants and a sleeveless white shirt, shivering a little in the chill. The servants had clearly done their best to tame his unruly hair, but after a few minutes left unattended it always sprang back to its natural scruffiness. "Are you nervous?" He whispered as she took her place beside him.
"Insanely," she said, adjusting the way her shift clung to her hips. It was just a shade short of completely indecent, no matter how much she picked at it. "What about you?"
"It's so bad I can't feel my legs," he said, staring straight ahead. "Please tell me I haven't pissed myself."
Sakura glanced to his spotless white pants. "I think you're clear."
A heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the Sage."
The edges of Sakura's mouth twisted up at the sight of him. He was so terrified that it was actually kind of adorable. "Hey," she said, nudging him with an elbow, "No getting left behind, remember? We do this together, or neither of us does it."
"Right," Naruto said, regaining his composure. "Together." And for a moment, at least, the disquiet in her abated.
Then they turned back to the crowd, to see, for the first time, the faces of their betrothed.
Mitarashi Takahashi was a Chunin only a year or so older than she was. A tall, handsome boy, his wavy black hair and deep golden eyes gave him a roguish, confident look, though he seemed as uncomfortable in his whites as Naruto was in his. His arms were long and thick with muscle. As his eyes fell on Sakura he smiled, wide and genuine.
She couldn't help but smile back. Marrying a Shinobi boy wasn't all bad, she supposed.
Naruto's bride to be, Hatake Rai, was a delicate girl of fifteen. Her silver hair was too short to form a proper topknot – had this all not been so sudden, she would've grown it out – so she had donned a black hood instead. Her mismatched eyes, one deep purple, the other light green, sparkled as she moved through the crowd, and when she spied Naruto she didn't smile – but she did go red as a tomato, a flush rocketing up her neck and face until it hit her hairline. Sakura turned to see Naruto a similar shade of red and only barely held in a laugh.
The crowd zipped up behind the two as they walked, until finally they stood less than a step from her. Naruto and Sakura had been too nervous to realize that they were on the wrong side of each other, and so it took a moment to get everyone in the right position. But once they did they faced each other and tried not to fidget.
Uchiha Sasuke, as heir to the clan to which Mitarashi and Hatake swore fealty, took his place to officiate. He was bare-chested despite the chill, balancing himself smoothly on high sandals. He smiled at them as he began to speak, but his eyes remained cold. His eyes were always cold, even when he laughed. Sakura had a sudden, wild urge to see them soften and warm.
He spoke at length of the circumstances that had led them here, of heroes long dead. Of Mitarashi Mitsuki, who had suffered a thousand swords so that the Uchiha line may endure. Of Hatake Daiyu, who had opened his home and fields to the beleaguered Uchiha forces, and sheltered them from an unforgiving winter. He spoke of brotherhood, consecrated in ink and blood.
History so ancient it was likely fiction. And yet it ruled their every action as certainly as a blade at their throat.
After Sasuke had finished speaking each couple was brought six cups of sake, which they drank with interlocking arms to demonstrate compatibility. Then they walked circles around the empty cups to demonstrate devotion, and finally exchanged gifts, to demonstrate caring and generosity.
It was asinine. The gift Sakura gave – a pair of rings forged from dark iron – were selected by tradition and provided to her by Sasuke. They proved nothing, nor did the sapphire earrings that Takahashi presented to her. Still, they were exchanged, and the crowd murmured appreciatively.
Once that was done, however, they were finally allowed to leave and change into the ceremony's final outfit. This time the maids were a little more subdued, though they couldn't help but gush about how handsome Takahashi had looked in white, and how the blue of the earrings would really bring out her eyes.
When she emerged back into the yard she was dressed in a white kimono, accented only by a long sash of green silk that had been wrapped around her waist half a hundred times. Takashi's sapphires glittered in her ears, and her nails had been painted a deep blue to match them.
Naruto accompanied her to the front of the crowd, in a black kimono over which he wore a black jacket and long striped skirt. He cradled an orange silk sash in his hands as though it were glass, and might shatter at the slightest fumble. It wasn't long before Takahashi and Rai appeared, dressed identically to them – though Rai's ears and fingers flashed orange, and the sash she wore was teal. Takahashi held a blue sash in his hands.
After another endless speech by Sasuke – of history, of course, and of the opportunities they held now, and of the expectations that came with them – the Uchiha heir signaled for Sakura and Rai to step forward. A knife glinted in his hand, coming from nowhere, and he sliced through the knots that held their sashes in place with smooth, gentle cuts. A handful of children who couldn't have been more than five or six ran up, grabbing the ends of the sashes and dashing quick circles around them until the silk was totally unwound. They bowed deep, taking the cut sashes back with them into the crowd.
Sakura and Rai turned back to their respective grooms and lifted their arms, allowing Takahashi and Naruto to wind the sashes they held around their waists. When blue had replaced Sakura's green, and orange Rai's teal, Sasuke lifted his hands and declared them wed.
Of course after all that not even festivities could be brief. They danced long into the night, passing cups of sake and stronger liquors, imported from distant lands and villages. Sakura received what seemed like a thousand congratulations from a thousand faces she didn't recognize. She tasted delicacies she had never dreamed of. Bitter chocolates from the rainforests of Water, honey from ancient hives in Stone, an iced cream they enjoyed high in the mountains of Lightning. She shared a dance with her father, and her mother, and Naruto, and Sasuke, and even Rai.
"She's a much better dancer than I am," she told Naruto, plucking a drink from the tray of a passing servant, still dexterous despite the buzz. "I feel like I have two left feet out there."
"You're doing amazing," he said, smiling. He looked so at ease now, so different from the boy who had worried about pissing himself just hours ago. "You look amazing."
"The clothing suits you too," she said. "And Rai looks good in orange."
"She does, doesn't she?" Naruto asked, throwing a glance over at his wife. His wife. It seemed so strange, even to think it. She hadn't even known him a year, and yet already it seemed impossible to think of him as a married man. But he was a man. An adult. They both were, or would be, tomorrow. Chunin. "I completely panicked when they asked me what color it should be," Naruto was saying, still looking at Rai, his hand in his chin. "I never expected to need an answer to that question. I don't even think they knew I was Koji until I blanked on it." He laughed and shook his head.
Sakura laughed with him. "Have you picked a name yet?" She had taken Mitarashi, under the terms of her contract, but Naruto had the dense chakra, the strange genetic quirk that had set off the chain of events leading them to this moment. He and Rai would take a new name – his name – and pray that his quirk was passed on to their children. If all went according to plan, in a few generations there would be a new petty clan sworn to Uchiha.
"No," he admitted. "I've tried a million, but none fit. I think Sasuke's getting annoyed with me." He shrugged. "I've spent my whole life hating this name, and now that I finally get to leave it behind I'm starting to miss it. Am I crazy?"
"You're just human," she said. "And maybe a little scared. Koji will always be a part of you…but it isn't you, not anymore." She poked him in the chest. "But my advice? You'll know the name when you know it. Don't try to force it, no matter what Sasuke-sama says."
Naruto opened his mouth as if to respond, but before he could Ayame had grabbed his hands and hauled him to his feet. "You didn't think you were getting away without a dance?" She said, spinning herself under his arm.
Sakura smiled as the waitress tugged him away. Ayame and Teuchi had been Naruto's only guests.
She flitted through the crowd, making small talk, accepting compliments, enjoying the night. A child of three or four hid behind her kimono's train, and she kept a dutifully straight face when his friends came by looking for him. She rustled his hair and sent him on his way. A pair of girls were rolling in the grass, to the great amusement of a crowd of drunken partygoers. One leapt to her feet, holding the green sash that had once been Sakura's aloft with a cry of triumph – only to have it snatched from her by another girl, younger, who vanished into the press of the crowd.
"I hope Miyuri-san ends up with one of them," Takahashi said from behind her. "She deserves a little luck." Sakura turned, her green eyes meeting his golden ones. He inclined his head to her, the barest bow, and offered his hand. She took it. He was a gifted dancer – slow and strong, and didn't step on her toes despite the flush of liquor on his face.
"I know what this is," he said as they swayed back and forth, the band playing Mito's Wail for what felt like the fifth time. "Sasuke wants you tied to the Uchiha. It...it doesn't have to be more than that, if you don't want."
"I…well…I guess, um, I don't know," she whispered, running her fingertips along his jaw. She would never have been bold, had she not been drunk on sake and liquor. "Everything that – I mean, this has all happened so fast."
"Tell me about it," Takahashi said. "Two days ago I thought I'd be marrying Yamanka Ino. I had all my things packed to move to their compound." He shook his head. "What I'm saying is…I know this is a lot…and I guess I'm really looking forward to getting to know you."
Sakura smiled, and touched his jaw again, and they finished their dance. And as the celebration began to wind down – as her parents bid her goodnight, and she began the long walk to the Mitarashi compound that was now her home – she told herself that she was happy.
-OOO-
The next day found her gathering her personal effects from one of the tenth division's shared labs, a large concrete room tucked away below half a hundred feet of dirt. A vast array of glass vials sat atop a dozen tables, some bubbling, some dripping, others sitting perfectly still. Notes and papers littered every available surface, not just the tables and floors but even the walls and ceilings, stuck there with kunai when no space had been available. Writing in a dozen different hands criss-crossed the chalkboard – formulae, personal notes and jokes, even the occasional funny drawing. It was a messy, chaotic place, even when entirely deserted, and it had been her home away from home for four years now. She had begun her Shinobi career as an assistant, not twenty feet from where she now stood, watching samples day and night to make sure they didn't catch fire. Her captain for that assignment had been Gekko Ishimi, a heavyset woman with short blonde hair and no tolerance for fools. She had died three years ago, in a land very far from here. They had never managed to recover the body.
Sakura blinked. She would miss this place, she decided. She had just finished organizing her instruments when the door behind creaked open, and she turned to see Koji Kabuto standing in the doorway.
Kabuto was a Chunin, a twenty-three year old who had made waves in the tenth division thanks to his natural aptitude with the chakra scalpels technique – a method for utilizing chakra to make cuts finer than were possible with any blade. In a few years, he would be one of Konohagakure's most accomplished surgeons. A bushy ponytail of hair, grey before its time, hung down to the nape of his neck. "I suppose it's true," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're leaving us, Haruno-san. My apologies. Mitarashi-san."
Sakura couldn't suppress a smile at the –san honorific. For so long she had been Haruno-chan to every Chunin in the village. Now, finally, she was an equal. "I wouldn't call it leaving," She said, making sure she had all her books properly stacked. "Just relocating. It's not like I'm retiring from the corps."
Kabuto took his glasses off to absently clean the lenses with a sleeve. "Ah, so you aren't." He said. "Though you'll be working on Uchiha projects more often than not, I imagine."
The reminder of what she had lost stung, but Sakura forced her smile not to waver. "I can think of worse fates than getting to study the Sharingan the rest of my life," she said instead.
That got a laugh from him, and as he stepped inside the lab he closed the door behind him. The lock's soft metallic click echoed in the empty room. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he said. "Still, I hope you don't mind if I request you from time to time for projects of my own."
"I would be honored." She had been getting attention like this more, since the wedding. Uchiha Sasuke had shocked the whole village by marrying off two of his most eligible young Shinobi to a Koji boy and a civilian girl, just weeks before the Chunin draft. Now the general consensus was that there must be something special about them, if the Uchiha heir was willing to go to such lengths to snatch them from under the Hokage's nose. "I've been a fan of your work for a very long time."
"And I yours, though perhaps not for so long," Kabuto said. "I just recently finished reading your paper you know, though it remains tragically incomplete."
Sakura made a face. "Really? I wish you hadn't. It's a little embarrassing, in retrospect." Sakura's paper hadn't just been misguided – every theory had been brutally, distressingly wrong.
Kabuto's smile was thin but genuine. "The only difference between a scientist and a layperson is the number of times they'll be wrong," he said. "I thought your theories showed initiative. A willingness to buck traditional thinking."
Sakura laughed. "Where were you a year ago?"
"I'll admit I was caught up in my own business. It's a mistake I hope not to repeat." He stepped forward, reaching into his white lab coat and withdrawing a small, hand bound journal. "I want you to have this," he said, sliding it across the table.
Sakura frowned and picked the journal up. It had no identifying markings on the front cover, but on its spine the number 14 was marked in small, precise hand. "What is it?" She asked, opening the journal to the first page. Then she saw the drawing of the white snake eating its own tail, and her blood ran cold. "What…is this?"
"You know what it is," Kabuto said.
Her hands shook. Her lips and teeth and tongue felt clumsy as she murmured, "Or-Orochimaru."
"The infamous missing journal," Kabuto said, his eyes hidden by the light reflecting off his glasses. "The only one of his writings that ROOT never found."
Sakura swallowed and tried to settle her hands. She remembered telling Naruto, on the night they had first met, that reading Orochimaru's works wasn't a crime – but this journal had never been sanitized and approved by the Hokage's office. This was true contraband, a death sentence bound in leather. "Why…why would you give this to me?" She asked, in barely more than a whisper.
Kabuto tilted his head slightly. "Weren't you listening?" He asked. "You're exactly the type of person who needs to read this. Someone who could full appreciate its insights. Its ambitions."
"You don't know anything about me," she said, her voice hard. "Please, just…take it back. I don't want it." But she didn't hold the book out, to return it to him. Instead she clutched it tighter to her chest.
"There's no need to lie, Mitarashi-san," Kabuto said. He took a step closer, and Sakura's eyes darted to his hands. He had no weapons on him she could see, but that was no guarantee of safety. Every Shinobi's body was a deadly weapon, and Kabuto's fingers were knives. But he saw her tense, and raised his hands slowly, palms up. "Easy," he said. "Easy. I can see it in you. The curiosity. The want. It's like staring in a mirror." He touched his thumb to his chest, "My heart," his forehead, "my mind, they scream for truth. You expect me to believe yours don't?"
"Cut the fucking theatrics!" Sakura hissed. "This serious! This is beyond just illegal, it's-"
"And why do you think that is?" Asked Kabuto. "It's only knowledge, Mitarashi-san. Experiments and their results."
"Experiments on children," Sakura shot back. "Fire children."
"Brutal, grisly things, to be sure," Kabuto said, his face impassive. "I don't defend Orochimaru's character. But the man is a genius. And knowledge, in and of itself, is merely knowledge. It cannot be good, nor evil."
"No," Sakura said, flinching at the echo of her own words, "but it can be dangerous."
This, of all things, drew a smile from him. "Ah," he said, "and now we approach the heart of it. Dangerous, yes. But to who? To you? To me? To the civilians who struggle and fall short because they lack the knowledge to better themselves?" He shrugged. "Or to them? The Shinobi who rule this village?"
"I could turn you in," Sakura said. "I could march into the Hokage's office and have you arrested. Interrogated. Tortured."
"You could." He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "If you do, they will drag me from my bed. I've had a very long shift, and I'm very tired." He turned back to the door and unlocked it, then cast one last look over his shoulder. "If you have thoughts," he said, "I would love to hear them." And then he stepped out the door and into the hallways beyond, his footsteps growing quieter with each passing moment.
Sakura shoved the journal into the very bottom of her bag, and left the lab without another word.
-OOO-
Sakura hurried through the crowded streets of Konohagakure, her head down, one hand clamped possessively over her bag. Every shadow made her jump, every tiny brush with another pedestrian sent her heart rate skyrocketing. Still, the press of the crowd was better than being up on the rooftops, exposed for all the world to see.
"Mitarashi-chan."
How could she ever have done this? How was she supposed to handle it? If anyone saw her with this- Sage, she was married now, even her room was no longer her own.
"Mitarashi-chan."
She was a fool. She ought to march back to Kabuto and throw the damn book in his face. She ought to set the thing on fire and forget today had ever happened. Orochimaru was a monster, a traitor. His writings were poison and already they were doing their work.
"Sakura-chan!" She came to herself with a start and looked up, heart hammering against her chest. Uchiha Sasuke stood on the rooftop above her, hands in his pockets, the slightest frown touching his lips. Dark hair framed an almost inhumanly beautiful face.
She was staring. The civilians in the street around her were watching her warily, uncertain what to make of the scene. She looked around, fought down a blush, and leapt to join Sasuke on the rooftop. This at least seemed to convince the pedestrians that, whatever was going on, it was Shinobi business and no concern of theirs.
"Uchiha-sama." She bowed low, forcing her fingers off her bag. He would notice, if she were protecting it like she might a treasure. "I'm so sorry."
"No need to apologize," Sasuke said, crossing his arms. "A new name is a lot to get used to."
"Yes, of course." A lucky break that he assumed her distractedness was the result of not being used to the new clan name. Now if only she could stop fidgeting. Her hands ran through her bangs, traced the hem of her flak jacket, brushed dust from her thighs. She forced them down by her side and smiled. "What can I do for you, sir?"
Sasuke's dark onyx eyes drank in every motion, but if he thought her odd he said nothing of it. "I wanted to speak with you regarding our plans going forward," he said. "Walk with me." But he didn't so much walk as take a flying leap over the street, landing on the rooftop across from them. Sakura followed him and they fell into a comfortable rhythm, a pace quick enough to keep the blood pumping but slow enough to maintain conversation. "I haven't yet decided on a suitable mentor for Naruto and yourself," Sasuke said as they ran. He spoke in a voice low enough that the two Chunin who followed them couldn't overhear, which struck Sakura as strange. Did the man not even trust his subordinates, his own bodyguards? "My initial thought was Shisui, but…well, I'm not so sure he's the right fit."
"U…Uchiha Shisui?"
Sasuke looked at her like she was a particularly slow child.
Sakura flushed. "Shisui of the Body Flicker."
"The very same," Sasuke said. He didn't bother to ask how she knew the name. Shisui was a legend in Konohagakure, a true cousin of the eighth – a son of Fugaku's sister, not just a clan cousin. They said he was the fastest Shinobi since the seventh. They said he wielded the heavenly black flame. They said a lot of things, about Uchiha Shisui, and it likely wasn't enough. And Sasuke had seriously considered having him train her and Naruto?
It was too much. Sakura had lived her entire life believing that her path to Chunin would come only through the Hokage's office. Through proving herself to the evaluators, through being chosen in the Chunin draft. She had always known that marriage into a clan was a possibility – she had just never expected that possibility to become her reality. She had never expected everything she wanted to just be handed to her.
But Chunin was what she wanted. And even if she had never wanted it this way, she had had no choice. The moment Uchiha Sasuke had walked into her life – the moment he had rescued her from the consequences of her failure at the library – she had been his, to do with as he wished. He was, after all, Uchiha Sasuke. Heir to an ancient clan. The result of a thousand years of meticulous breeding.
He was of the Shinobi that ruled this village, and she was his now, and it filled her with despair. "It would be an honor to learn from a living legend," she made herself say. Her hands were still now, no longer fidgeting, no longer clasping at her bag. Her heart beat slow, and steady. "But I'm sure Naruto-san and I will make it work, whoever you choose. We're empty vessels. Clay soldiers in which the will of fire burns."
The words sounded sincere to her own ears, but he only scowled. "I have nothing but clay soldiers."
She glanced at him, surprised by the venom in his tone. Surprised by how human it made him seem.
It was several long moments before he spoke again. His voice was flat and empty, drained of the poisonous animation it had held. He seemed the heir again, carved from marble. "The two of you pose an interesting challenge," He said. "Normally, at this stage in the training, we try to place teachers with students based on similarity of style. A ninjutsu master with a ninjutsu prodigy. An assassination expert with a covert ops specialist." He shook his head. "But there's nobody in my ranks who does quite what you two do."
"And what is that, exactly?"
"Think outside the box," Sasuke said. "It's why I first thought Shisui. He's brilliant, but the more I think about it the more I realize that his genius is traditional." He glanced over at her. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
It was a miracle that her hands didn't give her away. "I might."
"Then help me," he whispered, and in that moment she understood why his guards could not hear this conversation. "I'm staking more on the two of you than I consider strictly wise."
"I think…I mean, I wouldn't…it's just that…" she snapped her mouth closed, shame racing through her. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this. She wanted to poke and prod, to find the words that would bring the real Uchiha Sasuke to the surface. But when she needed her words they abandoned her, as they always did. Sasuke watched her with cold unblinking eyes as she took a deep breath, arranging her thoughts in an order her words could keep up with. She focused on the easiest question he was asking her, shoving thoughts of duty and risk and leadership aside. "If you're asking me which Jonin I would consider a good fit for Naruto-san and I," she said, perhaps more slowly than was strictly necessary, "then there's only one satisfactory answer."
Sasuke inclined his head, waiting.
"Hatake Kakashi."
Their feet hit the next rooftop and Sasuke skidded to a stop, sending a single blue tile skittering across its neighbors until it shattered against the ground below. Sakura slowed more carefully, glancing back at him. Far behind them, his bodyguards pulled up short as well. Sasuke stood there for a moment, watching her, as if waiting for more. Sakura, feeling her statement stood perfectly well on its own, watched him back.
And then he began to laugh.
His eyes were beautiful when he laughed, rich and soft and warm. "Oh, Sage," he said, "you're serious."
"You asked my opinion."
"As much as I wish I told Hatake-dono what to do, I don't," Sasuke said. "Nobody does, except my brother, and him only barely."
Sakura nodded. The Hatake clan was sworn to Uchiha, but control of individual Shinobi was sometimes traded between clans – or between a clan and the Hokage – in exchange for money, marriages, or land. Rarely did it happen with a Shinobi as decorated as Kakashi, who had been a legend even when he'd been traded, but she knew nothing of what had happened behind the scenes of that particular arrangement.
What surprised her was Sasuke's use of the –dono honorific. The heir of the Uchiha clan couldn't refer to a mere Jonin, no matter how decorated, as –sama, but –dono was typically reserved for Lords or Kage addressing those of equal status. For Sasuke to use it here indicated a depth of respect Sakura wouldn't have believed he could possess for a man who was once sworn to his father.
"Well, I don't know your Shinobi," she said, "but I know Hatake Kakashi. If a poor reflection of him is all you have, so be it."
Sasuke grunted, considering her words. "I suppose this is what I signed up for," he said. "Well, if I'd wanted things easy…" he trailed off rather than finish the thought, staring pensively out across the village. "As you were, then," he said suddenly, and then without another word he sprang away, leaping from rooftop to rooftop towards the great mountain – towards the command district, from which the Hokage ruled.
Sakura watched him until he and his bodyguards vanished into the maze of stacked buildings. When she was certain that they were well and truly gone she dropped back down to the street, startling the living daylights out of a woman watering the plants in her windowsill, and set off through Konohagakure at ground level. The eight faces of the Hokage, carved into the great mountain that towered over the village, seemed to watch her as she walked. Most accusing were the eyes of the eighth – Itachi, who had once been Uchiha. Itachi, who looked so much like his little brother. They had not carved the sharingan's three tomoes into his eyes, but he watched her all the same, his glare asking if she was truly the type of woman who would turn her back on her home in favor of traitors and madmen.
She shook her head. Stone eyes could not watch her, and the true Itachi sat in the Hokage's tower, far from here. Still, she did not glance up at the mountain again.
Eventually she reached the white walls and red gate that marked the entrance into the Uchiha district. The guards posted there knew her face, and they traded small talk as she passed – about the weather, and how she was settling in to her new home. The streets of the Uchiha district were wider and cleaner than the rest of the village, and notably safer as well – though as a Shinobi, Sakura had little to fear from civilian pick-pockets. Still, she couldn't pretend that she didn't enjoy being able to let her guard down. Lord Uchiha Fugaku was known as a harsh and uncompromising man, but his reputation had its advantages.
The Mitarashi were neither the largest not the richest of the petty clans sworn to Uchiha, but they were generous to their people. As a wedding gift they had given Sakura a lab, a blank concrete room several dozen feet underground that had once been used to store food. It was cramped and old and smelled of earth, but it was hers alone, and safe from prying eyes. She descended the stairs and fumbled in the dark for a moment before her hands found the grooves in the wall that marked the seals she knew were there.
She pushed her chakra at them, and light flared into existence, racing along long lines of carved patterns. Sealing – or fuinjutsu, as it was more formally known – was one of the three Shinobi arts. The correct patterns, when painted or carved, could store and mold chakra along a preset model, performing jutsu as a Shinobi might – albeit in a highly limited capacity. Conversion of chakra to light was one of the simplest applications of such an art, and even the slight amount of chakra Sakura had committed would keep the lights on for some time.
She had plenty of time to read.
-OOO-
It was in her lab that Naruto found her, several days later. "I don't really know what science is supposed to look like…" Naruto said, looking warily around the lab, "but this looks a little murder-y to me, Sakura."
The last few days had seen Sakura making the space her own. Against the wall was a small table containing hers tools – scalpels and pliers, scissors and tweezers, a few syringes – all laid out in a neat row. A padded table large enough for a full-grown man to lay on stood in the middle of the room, and below it was a large sheet of thick paper which could be easily disposed of and replaced once it got dirty.
Sakura glanced over at him. "Did you lock the door?"
"Yes," Naruto said. "But, uh, people know I'm here."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Sakura said, rolling her eyes. "Get over here."
He didn't seem particularly happy about it, but he came. She flipped through the pages of a heavy medical textbook – it hadn't been updated in decades, but it would do for now. "Have you been practicing the yang clone?" Sakura asked.
"Yeah!" Naruto said, clearly excited to be able to talk about his training. "It's still not quite there yet. Everything's sort of…wavery, and muddy? But the book helped a lot. And Rai has some good advice."
"Really," Sakura murmured, flipping through the pages, double and triple checking her work. "Rai-chan is helping you?"
"Well, doesn't Takahashi help you with your training?"
"Does it look like he's here?" Sakura asked, not looking up. Rai might still be a Genin, but Takahashi was a Chunin, and had a Chunin's duties. They hadn't seen much of each other since the wedding – and though Sakura had yet to admit it out loud, she didn't much care. "Sasuke-sama will be assigning us a Jonin teacher soon," she said, finally finding the page she was looking for. "If you still don't have the yang clone's kinks worked out by then, he or she should be able to help you."
"Sure," Naruto said, shrugging. He didn't sound particularly enthused. She knew he'd prefer to get this on his own, but they all had to make sacrifices in this new life they were living. "It's not the yang clone though," he said. "It's got a better name."
"Ah. Which is?"
"Well, I don't know yet," Naruto said, rubbing the back of his neck. "All my name energy is going towards the clan name situation."
Sakura looked up at him. "Still?" Sasuke must've been be furious. When she had counseled Naruto to ignore the heir's haste, she hadn't anticipated him taking quite this long. But it was important to Naruto, and he really shouldn't be rushed. She began checking her instruments for dirt – she had cleaned them to begin the setup, but one could never be too careful.
"I'll get it eventually," Naruto said, rolling his eyes. "Both of them. They're…oh! They're percolating."
Sakura dropped her pliers and stared at him. "Since when do you use words like percolating?"
"Rai has a word of the day calendar," Naruto said. "It's fun!"
"Maybe she really is good for you," Sakura said, shaking her head. She finished checking her instruments and turned to him, hands on her hips. "Alright. Are you ready to get started?"
"I guess," Naruto said. "I'm not really sure why you need my help though."
Sakura hopped up onto the table and lay down flat, smoothing her hair. "Well," she said, "I don't really trust myself to pull my own teeth."
