firefly dance
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1 – COTILLION
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She doesn't speak, doesn't move, only breathes. The air is dry, hot. Dust weighs it heavily. The subtle tang of salt softly drifts amidst the sweet musk of sand. The desert has found her before the sea, even though it was the sea that she had heard in the fall.
Her faculties seem amplified in the newness of it all. Predicting that they will dull in short time, she capitalizes on this while she can.
She inhales again. She smells the chalk of limestone, feels the weave of cloth under her fingers, hears the rustle of movement. There is someone nearby. A woman. Her breaths sing clearly in the silence. The scent of her skin perfumes the room. Her very presence causes nerves to prick in awareness.
Sakura can't sense the stranger's chakra.
Sakura can't sense any chakra. Only her own, a luminous beacon in the murky void. She is well used to being overshadowed in this aspect, by the legendaries, by Naruto, by Sasuke, by Kakashi, by a great number of people. It feels... strange. And perhaps a little lonely.
The medic runs a chakra sweep across her body, scanning for foreign substances, poison, drugs, even medicine, anything. There is nothing. Good.
She opens her eyes as little as she dares and peers out from under thick lashes. The room is dimly lit, but it is enough.
A cursory glance reveals two windows, two doors - the doors are shut, and she is unsure what is beyond them. Conventionality tells her one will likely to lead to the rest of the building, the other to a bathroom.
Two visible exits, two potentials. If pressured, an opening can easily be made through fists and brute force, but an unfamiliar setting is best dealt with quietly, without attracting attention.
Escape points marked, she continues to study her surroundings. It is daytime; the curtains are drawn across the windows, but still the sun's rays ooze insidiously between the cracks and gives the thick material an otherworldly glow.
Sakura lays on a bed of unfamiliar design, built from some sturdy wood. She is unrestrained, still clothed in her trousers and black shirt, right sleeve torn off, but her shinobi pouch is gone. Her injured arm has been bandaged, though no other medical care applied; it is just as well, as she doesn't need it. She sets her chakra to healing the acid burns.
To her direct left is an end table with drawers, a jug and a cup filled with water sitting atop of it. Beyond that is one window and a chair with a long white jacket slung neatly over the back, a white hat hanging on an ear. Further along the wall is a wardrobe and then a door. Nothing else of interest is found, though she resolves to keep a watch on the door - an exit is as easily an entrance, after all.
Across the room is a broad desk under the other window. A woman sits there with her back turned, bent over a large book. Her hair is black, glossy and straight, and she is obviously slim, clothed in a deep purple shirt that ends high along her torso and a short skirt of the same hue. Her skin is pale but has begun to tan in a way that says she has been in a desert environment for not quite a year, but more than a month.
Sakura has given no tells towards her woken state, so she considers using the element of surprise. She doesn't mean to attack the woman - there is no reason to suspect her as a hostile - but startling someone often has the convenient effect of catching them off-guard, resulting in a lower chance of dishonesty and increasing the potentiality of being given pertinent information.
That is - until her gaze slides to her right, the only part of the room she has not surveyed, and she sees a single, detached eye blinking at her from the beige wall. It's a woman's eye, large and hooded, the irises a pale blue and the dark teal pupils blown wide.
Sakura is not sure how to react to this. On the one hand, she's fought a god and traveled through realms and can bring back thousands of people from the brink of death in the space of a breath. On the other… it's an eye. And it's not attached to a face. And it's staring at her. She settles for laying very, very still and staring back at it.
The eye dissolves into a few drifting cherry blossom petals.
The stranger's facial structure is foreign to her, sharp and exotic and beautiful, in an enigmatic sort of way. She is tall and slim and well-endowed and her voice too is low and sultry. The combined effect would usually be enough to make Sakura feel a twinge of jealousy, but she is still too focused on figuring out how she got here, in this specific room with this specific woman.
Sakura makes herself as small and unassuming as she can - barely brushing five foot three and a hundred pounds, it's not very hard - and asks how she got here.
The woman laughs lightly. "I'm not quite sure of that myself. Imagine my surprise this morning when I found a young lady lying injured on my bedroom floor. I thought you were a bounty hunter at first." With a smile on her lips and cold steel in her eyes, she asks, "Are you?"
It helps to know that even in other worlds there are bounty hunters. A potential source of income that should be well within her capabilities, though she doesn't know the threat level of the people considered dangerous here.
Sakura considers continuing a helpless front, but decides better of it. If the twitch of the other's hands are any indication, that kind of misdirection won't be helping her make any allies. She opts for an honest sort of ignorance instead. "Does that mean you have a bounty? Should I be wary?"
The steel abates a little, but the woman remains tense. "Not at all. So long as you do not attack me, I will not attack you." Reasonable enough. "In any case, attempting to take my bounty will be a fool's errand."
She does not explain why. Sakura wonders if it is a proclamation of her own strength, or of something else entirely.
"Good thing that I wasn't going to then. It'd be awfully rude of me to try to hurt someone who's helped me out, too," she says warmly, laying light fingers on her bandaged forearm. "I'm Sakura - who are you?"
"My name... is Olvia." She may well have a family name and she may not; Sakura doesn't ask and Olvia doesn't offer.
The two women stare at each other in a long, immutable silence. Sakura looks at Olvia, really looks at her. She must be in her early twenties, 25 at the most, and yet she has the air of someone who is both haunted and hunted, fueled only by the fumes of a single, nigh impossible goal. Always on-guard, always wary, prepared to drop everything and just go at the flip of a coin. She is a reluctant survivor and probably has been for a very, very long time.
This woman... she reminds her of Sasuke.
And maybe that is a bad thing, maybe she shouldn't trust someone so terribly evocative of the one who had left them all behind, but still, she cannot help herself and the words tumble from her mouth.
(Uncertainty, a plea for help, weakness, this is weakness, never bare your throat to a snake - )
"I... I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here or what I'm doing here and where I'm supposed to go next. I don't - I don't even know what year it is." Sakura looks to Olvia with large, imploring green eyes.
Yes, she had chosen this for herself, she'd known she would be throwing herself in at the deep end, but still, but still, it would be nice to just… have some direction. Something to work off of, anything at all.
Olvia doesn't quite soften - too weary, too disillusioned for that - but she does begin, "It is the year 1518 in the Age of the Sea. Currently, we are in the city of Rainbase in the Kingdom of Alabasta…" and Sakura knows she's struck gold.
It's clear as day that Olvia is well-educated. She is a scholar at heart, enjoying the pursuit of knowledge for the sake of knowledge. No, to say that Olvia merely enjoys knowledge would be a lie - in her own quiet way, the woman revels in it, thirsts for it, needs it like humans need air.
Sakura thinks that given time and this continued sense of amity, the two of them could be friends. It is a very distinct possibility that she will do nothing to hamper.
More importantly, Olvia's tendency to hoard information like so many gold pieces can only be considered a boon for Sakura, because this stranger is capable of teaching her the basics of everything she needs to know for survival in this world. It takes a lot of bright Naruto-esque grins and sincerely curious questions and careful stepping but eventually Sakura is sitting on the bed taking notes on a borrowed notebook as Olvia calmly instructs her on the power system of this world, detailing the major events that shaped history into what it is. She speaks of such things as the influx of pirates storming the world, the dawning of the "Golden Age of Piracy" caused by a cheeky man named Gold Roger - and Olvia pauses at the surname, as if unsure of something.
Sakura learns that the world is round, a sphere divided into four Blues by the Red and Grand Lines, one a continent and the other a sea of its own. She learns about the Calm Belt and the sea kings that inhabit it, about great hulking monstrosities that swim freely within the ocean. She learns about Marines and Shichibukai and the Yonko, and of the delicate balance that exists between them. She learns about the World Government and Tenryuubito and the admirals, and how she should never by any circumstance attack one for fear of the other. She learns about beli, the currency shared by most of this society, and how much one loaf of bread and one bottle of water cost in Alabasta, and how best to earn enough for both in this arid land.
Sakura asks no questions about Olvia. Olvia asks none of Sakura.
At the end of it all, they are standing by the door of Olvia's suite and Sakura is bowing to the dark haired woman in front of her.
She is in borrowed clothing, trousers of an airy, flowing material, a fitted bralette, and a hooded robe, loose and draping. There is a pack slung over her shoulders filled with food and water and other necessities. Everything is white by Olvia's advice, designed to most effectively repel the desert heat.
More importantly, she has her shinobi pouch back, firmly attached to her hip and hidden under the robe. Though it looks untouched, Sakura knows far better than to believe that it has gone without inspection. She doesn't mind it; she would have done the same in Olvia's position, and the scholar cannot have activated the scrolls without chakra.
"Thank you so much, Olvia-san," she says, giving the older woman an earnest bow. "I'll never forget this."
"Please do," Olvia tells her mildly. "After you leave this building, it is for the best that you do not think of this again. For both our sakes, I have to ask that if we ever stumble across each other in the future, you will act as if we have never made acquaintance."
"O-oh," Sakura replies, a little dismayed. "I understand." And she does. Relations between shinobi of opposing villages could be much the same. "Then, before I leave..."
She bounds forward and catches Olvia in a warm hug.
The woman flinches back and tenses dangerously under her fingers and Sakura wants to cry, because this... this is not unfamiliar to her either. Instead she brings a smile on her face as she pulls away, makes it as Naruto as she knows how, and tells the older woman that she is indebted and should Olvia ever need her, Sakura will come running.
Though Olvia moves to protest, assurances that Sakura will only move when called vaguely mollify her and the two part with a final farewell.
Sakura considers the potential advantages to being the world's only source of chakra as a warm thrum of her energy pulses to the beat of another's jaded heart.
Sakura maneuvers through the throng of people gathered on the streets of Rainbase, marveling at the bright colours, the carefree laughter ringing in the air, the jovial, open faces passing her by. It's terribly reminiscent of the festivals held in Konoha during her childhood and the sight tugs at her heart. With a twinge of amused irritation, she realises that Olvia is not an anomaly - Sakura is shorter than the majority of people she's seen so far.
She shakes her head and focuses on her goal.
During her time as Tsunade-sama's apprentice, there was one very important skill she had managed to hone to a fine point: how to cheat at gambling, and cheat well.
Even as the Godaime Hokage, her mentor had refused to relinquish her gambling addiction. Shizune had disapproved of gambling at all, let alone dishonestly, and Tsunade gambled for the thrill of the unknown, so when it looked like Konoha's tax revenue would be used to pay off another outrageous debt, it had been up to Sakura to sit down and win it all back. It was only too easy to use her honed chakra control to send a solid probe into the slot machinery and trigger a jackpot. Or to read heartbeats, to use shinobi reflexes to hide and switch cards, to tag cards she wanted to watch with chakra - winning is so very simple when you aren't playing by the rules. Normally, she acknowledges such things as unethical and has only used these tactics when forced to clean up after shishou, but in this case…
Sakura enters the large casino with the ostentatious golden crocodile atop and cannot help but notice that this is the same building she exited the back of a half hour ago. Spotting the nearest slot machine, she sits down and sets to work.
A couple of hours and one too many suspicious looks later, Olvia's generous gift of eighty thousand beli has propagated into eight million beli.
Sakura decides it's time to hightail it out of the casino before the manager tries to get her arrested for cheating, proof or no proof. She hits three more - notably smaller - gambling houses before she is finally satisfied and takes her leave of the city.
Sakura hates the desert. She hates the unfaltering heat, hates the dry air, hates the sand that manages to worm its way into the folds of her clothes and the creases of her skin. It has only been three days and already Sakura wants out.
Finding a direct path to the nearest stretch of ocean is simple: she needs only follow the smell of salt and freedom. However, now that she is standing on the shoreline, watching the waves toss to and fro with the wind winding playfully through her hair, she realizes that to escape from this desert land, she needs a ship. And more importantly - she needs to know how to work a ship.
Suppressing a sigh, she brings out the map Olvia supplied her with and scans it. By her estimation, she must be less than a day's travel from the port town of Erumalu. The winds of Alabasta run North to South, so following along the coastline in that direction should lead her right. Once there, she would see about getting herself a boat and convincing someone to show her the ropes.
Haruno Sakura is in love.
The moment she steps onto the docks of Erumalu, it only takes one glance for her to fall head over heels for the beautiful specimen she sees before her. Tethered to a cleat is the most gorgeously patriotic ship she has ever witnessed, all burnished red finishing and rolled tan sails and deep green hull.
(She revels in the much worn memory of standing at the bottom of the hokage tower, staring up at the trees framing the warm red of the building, and the Hokage Monument towering protectively over it all.)
"A beauty, isn't she?" calls a wizened voice from behind.
"Yeah," Sakura breathes. With bright eyes, she turns to the grizzled old man who has made his way next to her. "Once I learn how to sail properly, I want a ship exactly like this one."
He grunts and studies her. "You sure a little thing like you could handle her? The Kunoichi is quick like nothing else, but she's a hard one to tame, and mighty bad tempered - you'd need the strength of ten men to calm her sails, and she ain't the size to fit crew like that."
She gives him an amused grin, and though it's a little feral at the edges, neither of them mention it.
"If it's strength, there's no way I'd lose," she tells him, playfully shoving her sleeve up her arm. The loose cloth slides back down when she removes her hand, but it serves its purpose nonetheless - the old man chuckles and pats her on the shoulder with a heavy paw.
"Got a little fire in you, 's good. Tell you what, I'll teach you to sail like a master if you just do me one favour - buy the old girl offa me. I've been meaning to find her a good partner for a while now, but nobody wants a ship that doesn't listen."
She beams at him. "I'll do it."
The majority of ships in this world and her first have sails of undyed white; as well as being significantly less costly and easier to acquire in the eventuality of replacement, such a stark shade provides a glaring contrast against the backdrop of sea and sky, thus doing away with the majority of oceanic vessel collisions.
The Kunoichi, on the other hand, has masterfully tanned sails of a hue that is designed to fade into the horizon during any sort of weather. Combined with the deep green of her hull and the rich red lacquer painting her masts and deck, she is nigh undetectable to the eyes even under the glare of high afternoon.
'Kunoichi' is an apt name for her newest beloved. There is a subtle elegance to her; she glides through the water like a wraith, as silent as she is swift.
To be honest Sakura feels undeserving of this masterpiece, especially for the price set forth by the old man. He asks only for four million beli; Sakura feels that he should be demanding at least all the money she has, which happens to be a respectable (and very illegally begotten) ten million. But she knows better than to disadvantage herself in such a way so instead she accepts his offer.
She stays in Erumalu for months longer despite her aversion to the desert, because mastery is not something so easily learnt and Sakura is nothing if not a perfectionist. She learns the ways of the sea and acclimatizes herself to this new political environment. Everyday she discovers something of use, a tidbit of information or a novel item or a historical text. Newspapers are key, as are bounty posters and streetside gossip.
The day she finally acquires an eternal log pose to Alabasta is the day she decides to leave. It is the old man's gift to her, as a sort of good-job and congratulations-you're-finally-done-here and most of all a kid-you-better-live-long-enough-to-use-this.
It is fortunate that she has already stocked her ship in preparation of leave, for on that day a certain 'shichibukai' deigns to pay visit to the bustling port town. It is a sojourn that has likely been elicited by the score of rowdy pirates who have docked this morning, morons who do not seem to be conscious of the latent code that most other pirates adhere to.
During her entire time in Erumalu, Sakura has seen noticeable military force being deployed only thrice, despite the sheer multitude of criminals shuttling through the town on a daily basis. This confounds her at first - but it does not taken very long at all for her to determine why this is so.
Alabasta is one of the twenty founding kingdoms of the world. This means that it is under the protection of not only its own local enforcement, the Alabasta Royal Army, but also of the world government's military, the Marines. Thus the weak, the cautious, and the quiet keep their heads low to avoid the inevitable retribution that bears down on any who would raise a fuss. This alone is enough to cull down the majority of any rambunctious behaviour, but it is more than mere fear; unaccounted for are the brave, the foolhardy, the daring, and the unafraid.
Equal parts observation and logic allow her to speculate that what truly stays the hand of all but the uncouth and foolish is simple common courtesy. Large port towns are like oases in the desert to those who spend the majority of their lives traveling the harsh seas. The sighting of one is the difference between life and death to many, and all who sail know this fact intimately. Attacking a key port town is therefore considered the height of rudeness - and while pirates are not quite paradigms of manners, still they appear to maintain a certain level of respect for the salubrity of piracy in general.
This only highlights the incredible stupidity of these particular outlaws who have done away with human decency altogether, demanding money, supplies, and women from the poor citizens. Finding the Royal Army too slow in its response, Sakura shoulders her final purchases from town and thinks to step in when a large, large man descends from the heavens on a wave of gold and rends the air with a hook in place of a hand.
The pirates are thrown about like so many rag dolls from an unnatural bombardment of sand, dried out corpses littering the ground in the wake of a terrible golden cyclone. Those who are not caught in the tornado attempt to retaliate, but even when bullets and cutlasses manage to touch him they don't, slipping through flesh and cloth as if he is a mirage.
Obito is brought to mind, but he can't be Uchiha, can't have a sharingan, it's all wrong - and besides, it is sand that knits together the severed flesh, for the flesh does indeed sever in a drift of yellow dust. This man, with his crisp cravat and costly fur coat and slicked black hair, is Gaara made untouchable, and the realization of what sheer destruction he could inflict if he so chose leaves her in awe.
Until stray pirates grab her from behind thinking to use her as a hostage, perhaps drawn by her small stature and innocent colouration. There is a sword at her throat, a flintlock at her head, and two pairs of rough hands along her arms and shoulders. More men inch behind the first few, catching the notion of using a hostage as a shield - as if that would be enough, as if a soft, supple body was ample defense against a force of nature.
And more importantly, if she was supposed to be protection against the monster, then who would protect them from her?
It is at once terrifying and exhilarating how easy she finds it to fell these men. She reaches out with glowing fingers to the degenerates grasping her skin and they fall limply, like puppets cut from strings, and somehow she must fight a smile at the pleasure that such power brings. She drifts ghostlike through the group clumped around her, hands thick with chakra floating to caress over throats and hearts and spines, leaving a mess of unconscious pirates in her wake. She is small enough that their teetering bodies conceal her until she slides into the crowd proper of civilians, a shadow cloaked in bright hues.
It isn't until Sakura glances back over her shoulder that she realizes she has been seen; dark, dark eyes are locked onto her own and the large stranger has begun to stride towards her. He has by now finished disposing the rest of the ruffians, and from the cheers of 'Sir Crocodile' that echo through the streets, this is a man very well known.
Very well known, and very powerful indeed, and that is attention she doesn't need when she hasn't yet found her footing in this new world.
Sakura narrows her eyes at the man before turning around and losing herself in the crowd. She slinks silently into the slim gaps between citizens and swiftly slips into a narrow avenue to the side, shaded and hidden well by buildings and a mass of people.
To her chagrin, Sakura is granted only a few steps of peace before her soft footfalls are echoed by another.
"You didn't kill them," notes her new shadow.
"No."
"But you could have."
"Yes."
"Easily."
A noncommittal, "Hmm," is her only response.
"So why didn't you?"
"I wonder."
"No, but really. Why didn't you?"
Sakura turns, then, to face this nuisance who apparently does not want to leave her alone. The boy seems around her age, perhaps half a foot taller than her and rather slim, or at least far slimmer than the 'Sir Crocodile' she has just left behind. His wavy blond hair is neatly sat upon by a black top hat with a belt of square goggles, the white frames complemented by his white ruffled cravat and dress shirt. The left side of his face is dominated by a large burn scar - second degree, quite nearly third, she thinks - that enclaves his entire eye. It is a wonder he has retained sight on that side, but indeed he has, staring intently at her with large round eyes that are not at all innocent but project the illusion only too well.
"Because," Sakura says calmly. Her smile is mild and pleasant and if he asks her one more question she may deck him. "I didn't need to. And personally, I've had enough of unnecessary deaths for a good while."
"You make it sound like you've been through a war," the boy replies with a laugh. It is without much humour and looks terribly wrong on him, for he has a countenance that is ill-suited to false emotion.
"Stop that."
He thankfully does and looks at her curiously instead. "Stop what?"
"It's gross."
A lost expression creeps onto his eyes. "What's gross?"
"Your face." It sounds like something Naruto would say when he's feeling immature, but has the happy coincidence of actually being relevant. Not that the stranger's face is unpleasant - rather the opposite, in fact - but in that split moment, it almost hurt to look at him.
The blond's features undergoes an odd series of contortions before it settles into a surprised grin. Sakura finds her own lips twitching upwards in response.
Not unpleasant indeed.
"Hey, what's your name?"
She will likely never see this boy again and doesn't see the harm in just a name, so she offers him a half-smile, the first overtures of cordiality she has given throughout this entire encounter. "It's Sakura."
"Sakura," the boy repeats, weighing the word on his tongue. His lips fall into another easy grin as he stops in place and reaches out a hand. "I'm Sabo. Nice to meet you, Sakura."
She stops as well and grasps it firmly. They shake, and the tips of her fingers trail along his calluses as she pulls her hand away. "I suppose I could say the same, Sabo-san, except that you're currently the only thing keeping me in this godforsaken desert. I'd hoped to avoid getting sand in my shoes today. Too late for that now." Sakura flashes him another quirk of her lips, this one wry and amused. It's meant to take the edge off her words, and it works if Sabo's chuckle is any indication.
"Sorry, didn't mean to be a nuisance. Luck be willing, I hope the next time we meet you'll be agreeable to an actual conversation. I may have a proposition for you."
"I don't know how I feel about being propositioned after only two meetings," Sakura tells the blond, poking him in the chest playfully. "You should at least take me to dinner first!" She laughs at Sabo's sputter of realization and the embarrassed reddening of his ears.
"No, wait, that's not what I meant - "
"See you around, Sabo-kun," she says, punctuating the boy's mortification with a switch of honorific. A mischievous salute and she is gone, shunshin taking her from rooftop to rooftop until there is no more aerial real estate for her to traverse, only the distance of a short stretch of packed sand and docks to the unfettered skyline that has so beguiled her. Kunoichi bobs cheerfully in the water, ever ready for the adventure that awaits them both, and she caresses the hull with her fingertips as she leaps onto deck.
Sakura expertly looks to the telltales and trims the sails, fingers working with efficient purpose as she unmoors herself from the quay and hauls her anchor. The wind is fair that day, and she cannot help a soft sigh of elation as the beautiful ketch glides forward and into deep water.
Something uncoils deep in her belly when the golden sheen of Alabastian sand fades out into the horizon behind her and Sakura doesn't fight the joy that bubbles from her heart and lungs and lips because this, this, this, this is freedom, this is open skies and open seas, and everything is right in the world for just this moment, just this short, transient moment.
Sakura laughs, and she doesn't care who hears.
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️Notes:
- At the most recent chapter of One Piece, it is the year 1524 Kaienreki/Age of the Sea.
- From what I can see, beli works along the same line as the Japanese yen. So more or less, 8000 beli = $80, 8 million beli = $80,000.
- If you look closely in the first chapter, Sakura's dreams follow the timeline of One Piece, setting each event during the same year that they would have happened if Sakura grew up in the OP world. So Law is 13 when Sakura is 10 (II - Glissé, when Corazon died), Luffy is 7 when she is 11 (III - Cabriolé, when Sabo died), Nami is 10 when Sakura is 13 (VIII - Tourné, when Arlong killed Bell-mère), etc.
- 17 year old Sakura has found herself in the One Piece world 4 years before Luffy sets out. Alabasta is not yet in drought. This is around the time when Crocodile has begun creating Baroque Works, and would still be looking for talented/skilled/dangerous people to recruit. Of course none of the members can know he is Mister Zero but that doesn't mean he can't do a little preliminary scouting when he's faced with potential before sending out Miss All-Sunday.
- Sabo is here on behalf of the Revolutionary Army, following a reported sighting of Robin in Alabasta (by now the Rev. Army has been looking for Robin for around 6 years). Unfortunately he is met by a dead end, since Robin, after accepting Crocodile's offer to become his partner, has taken up the identity of Miss All Sunday - thereby temporarily erasing Nico Robin's existence - and will continue to do so for another 4 years. When he meets Sakura, he is about finished with the search in Alabasta and is about to leave.
I'm telling the background story in an AN because I know some of you will be curious, and Sakura knows so little at this point (plus there's no reason for her to find out about this later either).