AN: I saw this pairing come up in another fic's tags and couldn't help myself. Even before I read it I was trying to figure it out-what's their hook? What's the dynamic? The original went in a different direction (but was still very good) but I found myself stranded with an idea I really wanted to see.
Just to avoid any confusion, though, this isn't the first chunin exams we see in the anime-I'm writing under the assumption that Sarada will take them again without Boruto and Mitsuki-Boruto because there's still some hard feelings about him cheating, and Mitsuki because he'd only ever take them with Boruto.
Title is a reference to a Robert Frost poem, The Oven Bird:
"The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing."
Karin's view of the ceremony is blocked, as best as she can tell, by several civilians, a squad of genin, and some graduate's nosy great-aunt and her equally nosy friend. While she can barely see anything over the dozens of much taller head-tops in front of her, the running commentary between the two women offers enough detail that Karin can almost piece together what's happening.
"This was his fourth time taking it, I heard," the great-aunt notes in a poorly-concealed whisper. She looks old enough, Karin thinks, that she probably doesn't care too much anymore about whether or not she's overheard. "I mean, if you have to take it so many times maybe you just aren't meant to pass."
"Oh, but he's still so young," her companion answers. Her voice is softer, much more forgiving. "They all look so young but I don't see why all of the genin fresh out of the Academy should have to take the exam so soon anyway. They've got—well, they've barely got any real-world experience by then; it's silly to expect them to mature so fast. Things aren't the way they used to be; there's no real hurry to it."
The other woman shakes her head. "Back when Yui made chunin there was none of this. It was all very covert; you'd have to ask around just to find out who else had made it."
Wryly, Karin thinks the women are as far back as they are so they can gossip without being shushed. Having come late, and having considered the great likelihood that she'd be caught sneaking into the village, Karin finds herself stuck at the back of the crowd with them, unable to see much at all.
There's an odd sense of order in how everyone else is arranged, a self-selected ranking among them. The best dressed people all gravitate to the front of the crowd, nearest to the graduates. They're the more important guests, Karin assumes—the graduates' siblings and friends, their teammates.
Their parents.
But Karin isn't there for friends or siblings or parents, and there's no reason for her to seek them out.
She's repeated it to herself enough times that she has to believe it: she's only there for one thing.
Or, rather, for one person. If only Karin could spot her…
Sarada's chakra is easy enough for a sensor of Karin's caliber to pick out of a crowd, but Karin doesn't think she's tall enough or near enough to see her yet, though Sarada seems fairly tall compared to the other kids there.
That is, in Karin's most recent memory of her, Sarada seems just as tall - if not taller - than the vestless genin who were fighting their way through the crowd when Karin arrived.
Maybe it's a simple matter of age, or maybe it's the proud way she had carried herself when they'd met last—her back straight and shoulders firm, her stance rock-solid.
The only familiar person she can actually make out is Sasuke, whose chakra signature she'd been following even from beyond the village's borders. She had immediately noticed him when she arrived but—well, she's been trying her best to pretend he isn't there at all, though at times the temptation is too much and she sneaks another glance.
He's dressed somewhat inconspicuously in black and dark blues, his hair once again grown much longer than it was the last time she'd seen it. It covers most of his face now, so much so that with her poor vision and all the distance and people between them she can only think - and can't exactly conclude - that he's smiling.
The years have been as kind to him as he could hope for when he's constantly on the move, falling out of one dimension and into another, never staying in one place for too long.
It might be more of a generous assessment than he deserves, but even if time can't heal all wounds it's at least forgiving enough that it's blurred Karin's memory of when they were fresh. Enough so, maybe, that even she can admit it's good to see him smile again.
(But again, she reminds herself—that's not why she's there.)
She fusses with the straps around her neck, her hands drawn habitually to anything that'll allow her to fidget. She decided at the last minute to bring a camera, caught up in the desire to be a part of something again, even if it's just as a spectator.
So far, though, it's been more of a prop to help her blend in than something she's been able to use.
She supposes she'll have to write to Sakura later and ask about Sarada's promotion—she knows better than to try contacting Sasuke. Writing to Sakura is still something of a slim chance, but if Sakura does reply, there's a chance she'll send along something extra.
Everything Karin could send Sakura has already been sent—old pictures of Sasuke, the single one she'd taken of Taka. Disjointed recollections of Sasuke, fractured memories Karin could recall well enough to describe but could rarely ever place.
She didn't - still does not - know Sakura well enough to know what she would actually have wanted, and so Karin sent everything, dredged up any memory or thought substantial enough to justify writing about it on the off chance that Sakura might write back.
Most times, though, she didn't.
There's been even less between them in recent years, but Karin tends carefully to what's left. Sometimes Sakura will send along notes of generic well-wishes, and sometimes, when Karin asks for them, Sakura will include pictures of Sarada for Karin to pin above her desk in neat little constellations.
They come slow, but Karin has learned to be grateful that they come at all, to resist the tickling urge in the back of her mind that always asks for more.
She'd expected something - a note, a call, something - after she had run into Sarada on the outskirts of the Land of Fire, but nothing had ever come.
She had waited, had gone daily to harass the Konoha jonin tasked with sorting through their mail, but there'd been nothing from Sakura, nothing from Sarada, and Karin found it was easier to convince herself that Sarada had kept it to herself so as not to worry her mother.
It may or may not be the truth, but since Sarada was born, Karin has learned twice as much about boundaries than she's ever learned about bonds.
When it comes to Sasuke - as almost everything in her universe eventually does - it's still hard for her to draw those lines, and Karin has learned better than to test them.
Between them both, after all, boundaries have only ever applied to her—Sasuke comes and goes as he pleases.
(Even when she steels herself against it, he finds her way back to her—Orochimaru had given her a new lab in the hideout for her own use shortly after the war ended. It'd been a paltry replacement for the prison she'd lost, but having nothing else, she'd still gotten down on her knees and scrubbed every inch of it, cleaning away two years' worth of grime and dirt between every hairline crack in the floor.
Her lab became an extension of herself—a room of locked doors and dim lights.
She had been working there nearly fifteen years ago when Sasuke had come in search of her, materializing suddenly with a heavily pregnant Sakura propped up against him.
He'd tracked mud and water from one end of it to the other from his incessant pacing, and yet two days later, alone again and back on her knees cleaning, she couldn't stop herself from marveling at it—that he'd known exactly where to find her.)
Today, always, eternally—regardless of the distance between her and Sasuke, she forces herself to feel content with the scraps of him that she gets: a sliver of cheekbone or a flash of lilac, the quirk of the same lips that had once traveled across an entire ocean just to say, I want you to join me, Karin.
The memories are all she has left, but lately the memories don't even feel like her own anymore—time passes and it becomes harder to find herself in the person she used to be, in the person who used to be Sasuke's companion.
(But she isn't there to think about that—she knows better than to even start.)
She's leaving as soon as the ceremony is over, she decides—coming in the first place had been a split-second decision she'd made when Mitsuki called the hideout to report in his pleasant, vacant voice that Sarada's rag-tag team of genin had made it to the final stage of the chunin exams intact.
It's partly why no one actually knows Karin is there, and partly why no one was expecting her. Why no one has found her yet, though the fact that Konoha doesn't take too kindly to people sneaking in and out of its borders is also something she keeps in mind.
Konoha sensors have always been good, but Karin has always been better—the best, maybe.
It wouldn't be the first time she's snuck into the village on a whim, and so far she hasn't been caught at it. She gets curious sometimes, never seems to get the timing right, and is usually gone within the same day. Disappearing like that isn't uncommon for her—it takes Suigetsu at least a week to notice when she's gone, she's learned, but her trips never last long.
Aside from Konoha there's nowhere else for her to go, no other roots deep enough for her to follow.
Ironically it's Juugo who seems to be the most aware of when she leaves, of where she goes. Confrontation isn't in his nature, though, and he's never directly mentioned it to her. He's never directly said anything about it—has only ever given her brief hints.
Several days after her last visit to Konoha he'd crept into her lab and silently watched her clean lab equipment. He lingered there for an hour or more before he finally said, It is never too late for you to change, in that esoteric way of his that made it hard for her to tell what exactly he'd meant.
And then he left.
It made her pause, but it didn't stop her.
Now, though, she's wondering whether she ought to have heeded his warning. No one has approached her yet, but she's beginning to notice a familiar chakra slowly inching closer to her. She recognizes him, though not in a way that's particularly helpful: she knows his chakra signature but not his name, and only has a vague idea of what he looks like.
Most likely, they crossed paths at some point during the war—she has no initial memory of seeing him, but his chakra is memorable nonetheless, and enough things were happening then that it could have been something she overlooked.
His chakra reminds her a lot of Sasuke's—that would have been the first thing she'd noticed, the first real thing that would have grabbed her attention. It's calm and calculating, but it has enough of an edge to at least make her at least a bit wary. He's got a similar fire affinity, but it lacks the intensity of Sasuke's own, the real fire behind it.
He's been moving around the crowd long enough that she doesn't think he's going to bother her, but she can't entirely be sure—his chakra doesn't offer any insight, no hints to what he's planning. She glances over in his direction and isn't surprised to see his head immediately jerk away.
He knows she's noticed him, but he seems willing to play it cool as long as she does. She waits a moment, and he puts a little more distance between them, slipping behind a gaggle of genin who seem entirely unaware that he's there.
At the very least, he isn't going to bother her until the ceremony is over.
She can work with that.
The crowd shifts, people are drawn in closer together. Karin lets it carry her in further enough that she thinks she can see the dark top of Sarada's head. Naruto is presiding over the ceremony, his height making him especially easy to notice, and when she looks back to Sasuke—
And when she looks back to Sasuke, she can see Sakura too.
She's already tearing up, dabbing lightly at the corner of her eyes with the delicate sleeves of her blue kimono. Sasuke shakes his head and mutters something, and Sakura's cheeks redden before she tries to wave his comment off, her blush deepening.
She's almost a foot shorter than he is, harder to make out, but she looks happy—unbearably, unstoppably, undeniably happy.
Why shouldn't she be?
"Excuse me—" Karin tries to elbow her way past the aunts and the genin to get a little further ahead in the crowd, a little closer to the graduates. A few people shoot her dirty looks, but it isn't so crowded that one tiny, lonely woman can't squeeze her way through.
She isn't there for Sasuke, after all, and as long as she keeps repeating it and keeps forcing herself to look away she can make sure it stays true.
When Karin finally finds an opening in the crowd, she realizes there's still something of a ceremony going on. Earlier there'd been speeches from people she doesn't know and doesn't care to know, a few quick words from Naruto that were probably more than a little improvised.
None of that is particularly interesting to Karin when, just a few feet behind Naruto, Sarada is beaming in her crisp, new chunin vest. She looks entirely uninjured save for a neat bruise on her cheekbone. It's small, a mild enough injury that Sakura could have healed it herself with the slightest, gentlest touch.
Sarada would have insisted on keeping it, Karin thinks. It's something she could show off as a badge of honor, proof of her mettle. Karin can't help but love that about her, that she can be so mature but still find small ways to be rebellious.
If she twists the thought enough, it reminds her of Sasuke—of all the stubborn ways he'd once refused to be healed by her.
It's easier, after all, to think of Sarada as a new take on old themes, as a smattering of Sasuke and Sakura's traits. Karin has never believed in or hoped for a world that offers second chances, but she's drawn to Sarada anyway, drawn to the forgiving sentimentality of a person who can be so painfully familiar while being almost a complete stranger.
(And yet—when has Sarada ever been a real stranger to her? Karin, covered in blood and mud and amniotic fluid, had been the first person to ever meet Sarada, the first person to ever hold her.
Karin has never introduced herself—she'd had thirteen years of quiet until Sarada looked at her and said Miss Karin! without a hint of doubt.)
Sarada's eyes scan over the crowd, picking through the guests. Her chakra sparks briefly when she sees a few people she recognizes, but it turns soft and warm when she finally finds her parents.
Karin would need to stand on the tips of her toes to see anything more, but she doesn't need to bring that kind of attention on herself.
As it is, though, she's getting more attention than she'd initially bargained for.
"Are you gonna do something or what?" she mutters. The Konoha-nin who'd been watching her before is creeping back over again—he's less than fifteen feet away now, coming up from behind her. It's hard to peg his specialty, but the obnoxious way his chakra sticks out makes her suspect it isn't intel.
Either that, or he doesn't care anymore if she notices him.
Karin takes a step back and lets the crowd reclaim the space. Secrecy has always been a part of the way she operates, but only as long as she can maintain it.
Sometimes, confrontation works better.
The crowd is much more willing to let her move away from its center, and in a few quick, careful steps she's right next to the Konoha-nin.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch.
"You're worrying over nothing if you're worrying over me," she tells him bluntly. "You don't need to sneak around like that."
She speaks low enough that only the people in front of her would be close enough to overhear what she's saying, but not one of them turns back. Not one of them seems to care enough to do so.
The Konoha-nin nods slowly. It's a tiny bit of relief—he's willing to at least hear her out before making a decision.
It's one more thing that makes her think he's like Sasuke, how Sasuke used to be.
His words aren't harsh, but they're fired back at her in quick beats. "That would be correct, if it were my intent to, as you said, sneak around." He pauses, inclining his head towards her. "In reality, I was watching the ceremony, just as you were. I took notice of you, as you almost certainly have taken notice of me. Never was I attempting to pass unnoticed."
"Sure." He isn't lying outright, but—but maybe there's a hint of a lie in it. Something tender in his chakra, something defensive.
It's a thing only Karin can fully appreciate: a mostly true statement says a lot more than a false one. "That sounds like a lot of words for I was openly staring at you."
He doesn't reply, and Karin wonders if maybe he took her attempt at a joke as an insult. If he's the type of person to be insulted easily because, really, she can only guess.
(Sasuke always brushed off her insults—she was never really someone capable of hurting him.)
Her acquaintance - if she could even call it that - with the Konoha-nin is barely more than shadow play: he's been perceptive enough to realize she's an outsider, and her knowledge of him begins and ends with his chakra.
There's no history or familiarity between them to save her; she has nothing to gain from antagonizing him now.
"If you think I'm a threat, you can relax. I'm just here to watch."
No one ever openly admits to being a threat, but he nods along anyway. "I don't believe you are a threat to Sarada. Beyond that, however, I have my doubts."
That's enough to force a laugh out of her. "Meddling with Konoha's business isn't worth the headache or the effort."
There's a rising hum of conversation around them, some restless movement. The crowd begins to thin out—the formal ceremony must have ended, because there's a great rush of people away from them and toward the graduates.
It makes her feel a little naked, a little exposed without other people to surround her. She turns toward the Konoha-nin, ensuring that the most Sasuke or anyone else might see of her is her back.
Even if he did see it, though, Karin doesn't think he'd recognize it—Sasuke doesn't seek her out in crowds of strangers the same way she always has for him.
"I'm here to behave, promise." If only to set him at ease - she is, after all, definitely not there to make trouble - she adds, "I'll be gone by the end of the day, so there's nothing worth fighting about." Hoping to find some common ground between them, she asks, "You know one of the kids too, don't you?"
It's an educated guess—he definitely hadn't followed her there, and even though he'd latched onto her rather fast, Karin doesn't actually think he was meant to be any sort of security for the event.
"I was Sarada's academy teacher," he eventually admits. He still won't look directly at her—at least, Karin doesn't think so. She can't see his eyes behind his dark glasses, which she supposes is one way of evening the playing field between them. "I also taught Sumire—her partner."
The third member of their team, a tough-looking boy with black and yellow hair, goes unmentioned. She likes the feel of his chakra, though, and more importantly she likes the proud and deferential way he looks to Sarada, the sparks in his eyes when Sarada grins back at him.
There's something about him that sets him apart from the others around him, a certain wary coldness in his chakra, an uneasy apprehension that feels foreign to Konoha and a little too familiar to her.
That he's so close to Sarada, caught up in the whirlwind of her life—that feels a little too familiar to her too.
Naruto fights through a crowd of thankful parents on his way over to where Sasuke and Sakura are waiting, striking up a conversation with them that Karin can't hear.
Mitsuki and Boruto both congregate around Sarada's team, followed by almost a dozen other chattering kids. Boruto moves to throw his arm around the yellow-haired boy, only to get hip-checked by him at the last minute.
"Don't act so friendly," he snaps, though Boruto only grins.
"I say we all go out to eat together! Dad says he's got dinner covered for everyone!"
"Wha—!" Naruto turns around with a grimace, but plays it off with a nervous laugh. "Heh, well, of course I could, but come on!"
Boruto jerks his thumb back to the commercial district of the village and, without waiting for anyone else, begins to walk off. "Well, I don't plan to be caught standing in line for food."
The crowd grumbles, one other genin rolls her eyes, but gradually they begin to disperse. Some, like Mitsuki, follow behind Boruto, lured by either the promise of free food or the opportunity to socialize a little longer.
Others, like Sarada, do not—she grabs her parents' hands and leads them away in the opposite direction, still grinning, still proud.
Sarada's teacher doesn't budge.
Karin eyes him carefully. "What, don't you have a party to get to?" she asks. "Like I said, I'm not up to anything here, and I don't plan to stay any longer than it takes for me to walk back to the gates."
"Does she know you're here?" he asks instead. "It seems you've come a far way to see her. Sarada is someone who would appreciate such an effort."
"Yeah, well I didn't want to be in the way."
"I see."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"I do." He shifts—she knows he's telling the truth, but there's an indecisiveness in the way he says it, something unsteady. "I believe you. What do you intend do now?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'm on my way out." She looks at him expectantly. She doesn't need his permission to go, but given the circumstances she'd feel a little more at ease if she had it. "If that's okay with you."
"You noticed me watching you," he says. It's the second time he's sidestepped her thinly-veiled attempts to leave, and it's starting to make her a little wary.
"You were watching me first."
"But you still noticed." He seems to find something significant in that, something he keeps circling back to. "The crowd was large—zeroing in on a single person would be troublesome to an outsider."
"You just… stand out," she says. "I don't know what more you want from me. Are you gonna try to arrest me or what?"
"Explain that to me. How I stand out."
She snorts. "A little narcissistic, huh?"
"Curious."
Karin waves her hand, trying to find an accurate explanation for it without getting into old history. "I'm a sensor, and your chakra network is… weird, I guess. It's unusual, so I noticed it." There's no polite way of phrasing it, so she doesn't sugarcoat it. "You're full of fucking bugs, so… yeah, that stands out."
"Oh. I see." He doesn't sound as offended as she expected—if anything he sounds disappointed, like there was some other answer he was hoping to hear. "To an outsider I can see how it would seem that way."
"Maybe you just don't blend in as well as you think you do."
His lips perk up at that, though she can't imagine why—most shinobi would find that insulting. "You said before that you were heading straight to the village gate after the ceremony concluded."
"Yeah." It's what she's been trying to do, if only he'd let her. "I'm… still going to do that, so if you want me to—"
"Why not stay instead?"
"Huh?"
"If you are able to, that is." His head is pointed downwards, away from her—he still won't look her in the eye.
"So what, now you're actually trying to get me in trouble?"
"If you would not be opposed to it—you and I might share a meal. I would be glad to treat you."
For a moment, Karin can't think of anything to say. He's earnest, which is almost worse than if he was just fucking with her. "You're kidding me."
He isn't kidding—not one bit. "I am… I'm not much of a notable man, perhaps. I am easily overlooked even by those I consider to be close friends of mine." He stops, but she waits for him to continue—he's thoughtful in his pauses, careful in his thoughts. "What I imagine is—I imagine that perhaps it is nice to be noticed by somebody else, regardless of the circumstances."
AN: One thing that especially bothered me in Boruto is how Karin and Sakura's friendship seems very one-sided? Karin talks about Sakura every time she's on screen (and in fact says more about Sakura than Sasuke), but Sakura has never mentioned her - not once - and went as far as to tape herself over a picture of Karin and Taka. I don't think Sakura dislikes her, but I do kinda get the sense that Sakura would rather move on from those days, and Karin would effectively be a reminder of Shippuden Sasuke. Sakura is a busier person than Karin is, and I imagine she has so many things going on inside the village that, even if she does think of Karin fondly, Karin doesn't have the same importance to her as she does to Karin.
I was actually really surprised to find out that Shino has a fire nature? Given the whole bug thing you'd think it would be wind or ground or something, but no-fire.
Anyway. Some of this was very cathartic to write-I had a relationship very similar to the SasuKarin one written here with a good friend of mine. It's... not good? But at the same time there's a feeling of inevitability about it, like the idea of changing just feels impossible. Like when Karin thinks about KawaSara-the other person's life is a storm and you just feel caught up in it, but in her own experience the aftermath is very bland-you feel empty when they're gone, but she's still happy enough with it that she doesn't necessarily see it as a bad thing, either.
It seemed as accurate an ending as I could find for her-she doesn't seem to be doing much, or done much at all since Sarada was born. The major events of her life - and the high point of it - all revolved around Sasuke, and now she's in this place where there's no Sasuke, but nothing large enough to displace him either.
I think my favorite thing that I pulled out of this was about Sarada and Karin meeting for the first time-Karin is absent for most of Gaiden, so from her POV Sarada just shows up one day and instantly knows who she is, without ever having needed to be introduced. It probably felt good in the moment? But I can see that seriously fucking with her mind.
anYWAY! Thanks for reading, for leaving reviews-thank you for seeing this totally off the wall pairing and thinking, ah fuck, might as well give it a shot.