The sun had already sunk by the time Sakura found her street. Her stomach gave a low whine of indignation. She had forgotten to eat the whole day. Add this to the infuriatingly late jounin her team was now saddled with, nothing but the sweetest collection of pastries would get the kunoichi's endorphins circulating back in her blood stream.
Their teacher, Sakura believed, was the worse of the lot. He was kami's punishment for her transgressions; she had tried- absolutely tried to stay awake. But the adrenaline high she had had after the debacle with Sasuke flying halfway across the room was coming to pass. And she wasn't even aware what had come over her at the time: the sun filtering through the windows, the class in an excited flair, Naruto barely an inch away from Sasuke's nose, face tilted to the side, their breaths mingling, closer and closer their lips... It was like someone decided to click pause then play everything on 'slow.' There was a kiss begging to be had and by the River Sanzo, Sakura was not going to give! Alas, her mother would now cry shame on the violent impulse she had just displayed.
Chakra exhaustion only compounded her predicament that afternoon. Her lunch, forgotten in her bag, then became the ultimate test of wills. And probably the source of her hallucinations and wayward conclusions [Kiss. Kiss. NO]. She should've taken the chance to eat when the last gennin cell before them had just left the room. However, years of manners and scare tactics had kept Sakura's hands away from the bento.
What ever will their teacher say if he catches her munching? She was no Akimichi, and if certain patterns were expected, the manner of introductions the jounin were partial to involved quick fire instructions and a time limit to test maximum efficiency.
In effect, Sakura needed to be ready to dash.
To do so would need chakra.
And the best way to collect chakra was to meditate, close her eyes and slow her breathing, feel the flow of energy through and out her tenketsu points...
Which in the end caused her a chalk mark on her reddening forehead and a jounin's bad impression of her snores. Oh kami, she had been in the same room as Sasuke and Naruto!
Though she doubt the whiskered blonde would ever mention the incident, the fact that Sasuke was now privy to her ungodly state of slumber made her want to march of to Suna and bury herself in the desert.
All those less favourable events, however, were set aside at the sight of home. The Harunos' warm daisy walls and manicured lawn had never been so welcoming to the rosette. Sweet scents of beef cooked in sesame oil and onions called to her like mischievous spirits to a lost child as she ran her fingers through well worn walls, mirroring her mother's habit whenever she entered or exited the house. Several framed haiku and brushwork greeted her with bursting color along with windows to a number of misadventures over the short dozen years she has lived. Humming drifted from the kitchen. The potted monstrosity that was her father's pet project didn't even bother her in spite of landing a bruising bump on her Mother's ire will follow the carelessly thrown sandals, but Sakura didn't care. For once, she was like the whiskered blond prankster being led by the nose to the heavenly valley of ramen. Only this was the Mebuki equivalent: celebratory sukiyaki.
"I know you haven't actually gained any rank yet," came from the slight form of her mother as she carefully set the table. Sakura stopped. Right, gennin.
"Yes, but a hearty meal before any big day always does well in this house," Kizashi, tall, dark and booming, bellowed a laugh as his daughter took an ungraceful slouch on the chair before him. The man was quite of opposite of his wife, where she was swift and slim, he carved an imposing figure of attention in both his gait and shock of dark pink hair. Her father's chuckles made Sakura's mood take a u-turn to the academy hours prior.
"Just hand me the rice," She says before wolfing down food seconds after the pot is set. The action earned raised eyebrows from both Kizashi and Mebuki.
"I thought you were on a diet?" the older woman asked, observing the rate of which food was disappearing. Her husband had his chopsticks mid bite not quite processing that he was about to run out of his share.
"Annjamsh aowbyes eerditoo mmffht- mm!"
"Water."
"-rgy, so I'm replenishing my reserves. Besides, I'd just end up embarrassing my myself if I can't at least keep up on a run. Also, exercise and training should do the job just fine in keeping a figure, right?" Sakura's brain was running alright. Anything but the last few hours! Forget it. Forget it! Look forward. Plan.
"Sakura, from the start," said Kizashi with an encouraging motion. So Sakura shared her day, all its pit-falls and nuisances, how Ino made it first to the academy, her exhaustion from all the running to catch up, how she skipped lunch when she fell asleep, and again when their jounin instructor came in the room. The last part earned a snort from her father and a look a derision from her mother. She even shared her thoughts on chakra, hoping for some confirmation on her observations.
"Mom, I think I figured out how to use chakra properly. I mean, I know how, all in the academy and stuff. But not like it jutsu or any of those flashy techniques." She pause and tried to get her thoughts back in one place, "but like how the rest of the nin use it for sprinting, like its automatic already." She did not mention the roof hopping and subsequent fall. That lead to another question Sakura couldn't explain to her self yet, so how could she explain to others?
"Automatic responses is force of habit. And I take it you've tried experimenting? You woudn't be so exhausted and ponderous of all this otherwise." Kizashi said.
Sakur blushed. "Well, I tried to get more balance when I was chasing Ino from the roofs..."
"You've been roof hopping?!" Mebuki barked. Worry and incredulity warred on face.
"Yes. I mean No! ..err, a bit."
"Meditation, yes," Kizashi quickly diverted the topic. "It should increase your chakra awareness and control. But if you really want to increase your stores, you'll have to use ninjutsu and go through intensive physical training. Charka is the mix of both your physical and spiritual part, Sakura. You can't leave one for the other." His daughter nodded with little complaint, much to his surprise. Does she intend to take this all seriously now?
"I thought you didn't like big muscles..." Mebuki trailer, gazing at the window and the street lamps that were beginning to flicker on. There used to be a young sculptor of porcelain Sakura had been besotted with as a toddler. He had called her princess, and humored her a lady of grace and demure countenance. And she had looked up o him with stars in her eyes, promising to make herself the most beautiful maid he'll ever meet.
It was a fairy tale constructed by child-like naivety and reinforced by peaceful social conditions. Sakura, after all was born with in the first year after the 3rd great shinobi war.
"Mom!" The rosette paused to collect herself, "It's okay. The muscles, I mean. I just met the village's most beautiful kunoichi earlier today in class." She looked at both parents like she had when she was five and had just declared her devotion to Uchiha Sasuke.
"She's team 10's jounin sensei. And if she can make it to that rank looking as fine, and well, I mean, you don't just become an elite without scars or getting beat up right? And I can hope can I? You and Dad are both retired nin both and we have pictures of mom looking wonderful in a furisode back in the day... I mean. A kunoichi can be both beautiful and deadly." Reviered and elevated. "Well, maybe I don't mind working in an office doing paperwork or maybe go into medicine- but becoming jounin!" cried Sakura in a daze. She tried to hold back a blush. That was more than she had anticipated in sharing. Half of which were of things she wasn't even sure she had been thinking about. But as soon as she had said the words, they had felt right, like they expected of her to begin with, though her parents had never put any pressure on her to pursue an illustrious ninja career.
Still he'd like to live by those words. They had felt almost familiar. If only she knew how.
Kizashi, in all his dark messy pink glory, bust out laughing. Sakura faltered. That didn't sound too serious did it? Her newly formed plans? But her father only looked at her with a blinding grin.
"Are you sure about this?" her mother said kindly. "Becoming jounin takes more than hard work."
Sakura turned to her, trying to decipher the expression Mebuki wore. Sakura had unexpectedly arrive at a crossroads, much like the day she had made her intention of joining the Ninja Academy, or when she decided that the small dark haired and quiet boy was the one for her. Her parents had humored her then. They had indulged her reasons, coached her through her studies yet let her have her way on how to spend the day.
There is, after all, a decent living to be made under government employ during peace time, safe within village walls without being on active duty. Many do not even qualify for gennin and instead take up apprenticeships from the many master artisans and craftsmen, some travel to the capital for more scholarly oriented work, and others resign from active duty and take full-time bureaucratic posts. They serve as staff, secretaries, administrators, librarians, researchers, archivists, and healers. She could inherit her father's little pottery workshop, help her uncle with their ancestral lands up north, marry a doting man, raise children of trade and industry, know nothing of war and conflict, and lands beyond.
It would be a life no jounnin is truly capable of, that her parents knew. She was part of the first generation born in peace time. A generation that did not have to simply survive, but Mebuki left her thoughts to the wind.
But the breeze seems to have been whispering to Sakura. Mebuki watched her daughter once more pause her thought processes and take stock of their house.
The bright lacquered hilt of Kizashi's kodachi gleamed from the sash of his robe. Other blades and weapons littered the house clamored for attention: decorative kunai on the walls, an antique gunsen on which a renowned artist painted Konoha's first spring as a shinobi village, sealed scrolls on the mantle, senbon in Mebuki's hair... all were sharp and well maintained. Their house was alive and armed.
No one forgets how to be a jounnin.
"Sakura," her mother calls. A warm hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes.
Looking on her mother now, Sakura felt like she was six again, just come home from her lessons. It was immediate that something was amiss when Sakura closed the door behind her. The usual spritely tune she would hear in the kitchen as Mebuki made snacks for her daughter was not present on her mother's lips. In place was a carefully painted mask, plain dull and symmetrical features adorned a thin face. Color had been stolen from her father as he watched his wife arrange straps to her person. More pieces of metal and leather fell into place. Despite having been removed from the roster eight years and running, Mebuki was assigned one more task; one more lose thread from a war long over, one more point to bury a senbon in.
A jounnin can never truly be at rest. It was a life that no parent truly wants for their children. Hers, though being accomplished shinobi, would rest easier in the knowledge of having their daughter grow the settle in peace and comfort.
There is dignity in living a civilian life.
There are sacrifices made, countless and brutal, in a shinobi life. And that was the glimpse truth Sakura came upon that night.
The rest of the meal continued in quiet pensive thought for the pink haired girl, but not so much for the two parents before her. Their eyes argued on their daughter's new found interest in the dangerous world of becoming an elite. Like many small ninja families of the past decade, the Haurno's have never pressured their daughter into their lifestyle. Konoha was at a peak of an economic boom. Civil-military service was more a formality rather than a demand. International treaties are being honored (mostly), and the law of the land is upheld with efficiency.
Before biding goodnight to her, Kazashi said, "Becoming jounin is more that prestige in skill and ability. It's a whole lifestyle. I say, become gennin first. Then we'll talk on this again. Alright?"
To Sakura, there was an ocean more her father meant to say, but he pat her cheek like the girl she used to be, and the flicker of dying lamp light sent her of to bed.
The rest of the night gave way to meditation. An hour long of calm and awareness exercises gave her a chance to asses and recollect the day. Though her memories stayed true, finding answers to many of her actions, how her body reacted, to be exact, remained a challenge. Her exhaustion made sure of that no dream came, but come dawn, Sakura began to toss and turn in bed. The creeping light, instead of stirring her to wake, brought visions of a chase, trees sped past her and a shadow loomed behind. A blur of orange tried to tackle her pursuer but was swept aside. The path she ran was littered with kunai and shuriken, some covered in blood. Up ahead came not a saviour but another victim, pierced and bloodied, his raven hair matted, legs twisted in an odd angle, one arm cut off. Sasuke! But the image rippled, and passed it went Sakura, onto a three wooden posts and a fool tied and hung upside down on the middle one. The scent of freshly cooked rice came to her and she woke with a start.
It took Sakura a few tries to calm her breathing. Sunlight had already filtered through her window to glare at the head of her bed. She went about her routine and walked out the door. And then she realized that it was more than an hour past dawn. She was late and her stomach wasn't purring with dissent.
Shannaro! So much for following instructions. What a way to pursue a jounnin career, Sakura.
It took less than a minute to complete the dash to the assigned training ground for the day. The sight of both her teammates slumped and idle quickly took away the panic that had threatened to bubble over Sakura. Where is Kakashi-sensie?
A soft poof and a gloved hand on her head became to the answer.
"You're both late!" Naruto shouted, pointing an accusing finger at them. But despite the his volume, Sakura could only pay attention to the soft voice behind her.
"Had second thoughts?"
No. But how does one begin to explain two evenings worth of distraction her sub-conscious is throwing at her?
"I'm ready," She said instead. Kakashi gave her a dour look, to which she responded in kind.
About an hour later a part of her wished she hadn't made an appearance at all. What ever convinced her she was ready promptly drowned in the River Sanzo as soon as Kakasji dealt a thousand years worth of care to Naruto. The foliage she was hiding under now felt inadequate, her trepidation only doubled when Kakashi seemingly disappeared from the clearing. There was no one to watch anymore. In fact, Sakura was pretty sure the roles have reversed and her would-be sensei knows exactly where she is.
A bust of chakra caught her attention. Sasuke.
There was a choice now to be made, either look for Naruto or Sasuke. And Naruto would no doubt be headed to where the smoke is at anyway. Sasuke-kun, he'll definitely be able to hold off Kakashi-sensei for a while. An urge to go witness the rookie of the year in combat only solidified her choice. Sakura ran, keeping away from clear paths and large swatches of sunlight. She followed the sounds of activity, and was perhaps a few hundred meters off mark when the quiet settled. Oh no.
There was that feeling of being watched again. It set off a bind panic that had her scrambling up the nearest tree branch. Up she went, but the elevated view did little to slow the rush of blood to her limbs though it provided a more definite sense of location from where the battle occurred. A few more jumps provided the rest of the details. Burnt leaves and scattered shuriken. Does Sasuke-kun already now how to do katon?
Yes. Perhaps. But she was given the chance to ponder further as the presence from earlier decided to finally make a move: towards her. Sakura took another leap, this time on a neighboring tree, chakra coating the soles of her feet to keep her balance in check but in her rush it fluctuated and broke the bark of her next landing, making her slip and swing off a lower platform instead.
A breath.
Focus. And then fly.
It took no time for Kakashi to reach her. On her next jump Sakura felt the ghost of his hand over her shoulder and in blind panic twisted to swing a punch. Her fist connected only with wood, creating a gapping maw of splinters. The shock of chakra firing through nodes underneath her skin scorched, and like lightning cracked back up her forearm, ringing pass her elbow and numbing her shoulder. But her unintended target swayed and groaned upon impact, and for a second she took wicked satisfaction at seeing her captor give a swift nervous glance at the damage wrought. The flash of inattention ended all too quickly, the damaged tree barely providing a second of distraction. Next Sakura knew, one hand was at her chin while the other formed half a seal. Genjutsu.
Kakashi let her go, and she fell from the canopies.
AN: I have no beta. It's well past midnight. Sorry for typos. More flashbacks up next. Some politics. And a few spoilers from recent chapters.
I try not to repeat scenes from the manga or anime unless there're significant changes to be made on them, hence the whole '(dis)likes and dreams' on the roof is only mentioned in passing. And I'm taking some creative license on Kizashi and Mebuki. And the rest of the family for that matter. I mean really. Kishimoto introduces ranking characters as Mr and Mrs Haruno? And leaves his female lead so under-used? What. So yeah...
Hope you all enjoy!