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Part I

Harsh sunlight raked her skin like hot claws, but she didn't move. The room was cold enough to cause frost to bloom on the tips of her fingers, so she welcomed the fire.

An itch in her shoulder suddenly called for her fingers to satisfy it. Her hand grazed along her skin until she stopped on an unnatural bump. It was narrow and leathery-smooth, rimming the upper side of her arm. It was a scar, and one she wasn't able to scrape away no matter how much it bothered her.

The cause? How could she say with a pacific face that it was from the one she had cherished most? Her former teammate, whom she allowed to possess her mind whenever her father yelled for her to be quiet? Whom she allowed to ensnare her attention during that one test and cost her a single question, only to find herself thinking of him again when her parents found out she was only nearly perfect on that exam? Who she allowed to spoil her relationship with Ino, her only friend up until then, and who she allowed to leave Team Seven broken?

And what did he leave? A tattoo of betrayal. A warning bite. A final stamp that he never loved her.

But who was she kidding…she could have never stopped him with a moonlit tear. With the disasters that Team Seven was made up of, it was already in shambles before they even met. And who was the one who always dragged the team down? Her.

Sakura never realized the freedom her mind had before she met Sasuke. Even when he was long gone, she could never escape him.

The nurse tore her from her thoughts to tell her she was discharged from the hospital. She had stayed here overnight, but she heard Naruto had been discharged earlier in the morning.

The last time she was here, she had awoken to remember that she could have saved fifty shinobi. Now, Sakura couldn't walk through the halls without seeing shameful eyes leering at her. The white walls of the hospital always unnerved her, but now when she thought of another color, she could only think of the velvet blood of the Suna and Konoha shinobi seeping in between the tiles.

Now, she was briskly storming through the hospital, trying to get out of this prison as soon as she could. She ignored her coworkers, not interested to answer questions of where she had been these past few weeks; passed doors of patients she could have been nurturing.

She turned down a barren hallway, the relief of nearing the exit invigorating her strides. That was, of course, until she heard the inflamed, almost maddened, roar of the Hokage shake her determined race.

"Danzō, this has gone on long enough!" Lady Tsunade bellowed.

A rotten and worn voice spoke acidly in return, "If you remove my agent from Team Kakashi, then you will be making a grave mistake. May I remind you that the jinchūriki was easily separated from your ANBU shinobi and his jōnin-sensei?"

What is going on?

Sakura realized that neither party had noticed her chakra, not that she even tried to hide it. Despite the protests of her own goosebumps, warning to leave this depraved building, she stayed. Molding her chakra until it was congruent to the air itself, she erased any sign she was just outside the door. She hovered near the insignificant window so she was spared from the sunlight, but able to see clearly into the room.

Two hazy figures were standing acres apart. Sakura's hair rose from every huff either member breathed, hot chakra spewing from them as their anger became monstrous.

So this was the man Lady Tsunade always complained about; Sai's 'master.'

"I will not have you put your soldiers on my teams and carry out your personal missions that could jeopardize Konoha. I should consider it treason to go behind the Hokage's back," Lady Tsunade snarled.

"My only purpose is to protect and serve Konoha, to call it treason is rich coming from a spoiled youngster like yourself. Allowing the jinchūriki to leave for two years, even with a Sannin, was treacherous. Should I not think you were trying to keep him away from the other leaders of Konoha?" Danzō remonstrated, rolling his tongue.

They're talking about Sai! But, why here of all places…?

The Hokage's K.I. radiated and struck itself against Sakura's chest, leaving her to heave cups of air in order to breathe. She wasn't sure if it was real, whether her organs were slowly failing her one by one, or not. Never had she been caught in the turbulence of her master's killing-intent. Unlike Orochimaru's, a malevolent creature which enslaved one's psyche to each delusional atrocity he could freely choose to commit, dehumanizing his victim to just a wearisome sack of blood to drain–Tsunade's was heavy and demanding; regal, even. With divine right she was crushing a worrisome thought between her fingers, one's entire body–mind and physical–were falling under her authority, right before they burst. "You and those two are not leaders of this village."

"You are making an enemy out of someone vital for your side."

"You have already made it clear I am quite the enemy to you three," Lady Tsunade said, rigid.

Sakura inched up to the window to see more. No one had stopped her from thundering down the hall, meaning there were no ANBU shinobi lurking around. This peculiar location had her brain in a bind, she had to know why they were talking in this room.

If I'm right…

Almost as though he had written her himself, Sai had known she had been there. Sakura realized this as his eyes were already locked into hers before she stared back into his. Through the foggy window, even from her distance, his irises were just as crystally refined and void as though he was standing beside her. But, he was still laying upright on a hospital bed, stuck between two warring mountains of power.

Ah, fuck, Inner Sakura groaned.

She vacated the premises immediately thereafter.

Tsunade's going to remove Sai from the team. Does that mean we'll ever see him again? Should I tell Naruto?

Sai's confession from a few days earlier churned in her stomach as she escaped from his gaze. Remembering how she defended him, shame shot like hands from the ground to bite her ankles.

I was doing the right thing, as a medical ninja.

But this was different. Sai revealed he was a double-agent. An agent of Danzō, whom Lady Tsunade abhorred. Is he here to take Naruto? How could she have defended him? How could she have made another mistake?

Wandering through the streets, she was pressed between bodies like a leaflet that lost its noisy lettering, mud between its folds. She wouldn't be subjecting herself to this if she could, but no one had hair like his, and she swore she saw it, flashing into the open sky like a golden spark between heads of flint.

"Hey, Naruto!"

It being noon, the main street of Konohagakure was chattering yet stuffed. Like anthropomorphic squirrels in coats and hats, hungry to rush to complete today's errands. Everyone was stifled by the life-sucking cold, yet squished by the revolting warmth of the strangers crushing them. The street was a pulsating bustle…a line shift here, protests there. An impetuous thought popped into Sakura's mind as someone elbowed her ribs: Nothing's thing's stopping me from walking all over their heads…She could do it, if she tried.

"Narut–Get off!" she choked as she roughly shoved someone who had tripped onto (not over) her. She began pushing her way through the mass, separating families and disturbing baskets of goods. She sneered at anyone who gave her looks.

Slamming her fist on Naruto's shoulder, she ripped him from his quizzical stance. He was clutching a crumpled magazine paper as he screeched.

"YAAAH–oh hey Sakura," he said, suddenly unruffled, and greeted her with jubilee.

"I have been looking for you all day. And, it's freezing!" Sakura whined, stomping her foot, "What are you even doing?"

The mobile crowd was bumping awkwardly into them, but the two friends didn't move. "Oh, since I've been gone for three days, I'm gonna use this coupon at Ichiraku Ramen," Naruto explained. "But, I can only get it if I buy something at this other store or whatever." He gazed with a juvenile gleam while examining the folds of his paper. "Do you know where Murata Makes is? It's like a bakery…"

"We've been gone for four days, you mean," Sakura grumbled. "Look, Tsunade–"

"Wait," he said deflating suddenly, "we've been gone for four days, not three? Today's the twentieth? Th-that means I can't use my coupon."

Burned to exasperation, she sighed, "Yes, somehow Sasuke's jutsu also cost us a day. But, ugh, look, I have something imp–"

Sakura only just noticed a skeletal hand grip the loose cloth of Naruto's jumpsuit. Naruto paused his pouting as well. The skin of the hand was sunken, leeched by strife and age. An overwhelming, cherubic scent sharped itself in Sakura's nose. She sneezed.

"Excuse me," a voice, wavering, just nearly missing a step on a thread of life, etched out its words like carving on stone, "My son, what are you doing here? Why have you returned from your business trip? And so early?"

Recovering from the throttle of the woman's perfume, Naruto sputtered, "Yeesh, sorry, lady, I am not your son."

Naruto's face spiked in embarrassment as Sakura silently scolded him with a twitch of her eyebrow: "Oh, uh…are you looking for him?"

"Son, I know you are very worried about this trip, but I'm disappointed that you would return so cowardly…" the woman crooned as she patted Naruto's arm. She was wearing a sky painted haori under an older coat, a few torn edges with feathers peaking out in patches like plumes.

Who let this woman wear such a poor coat?

"Ma'am," Sakura asked gently, narrowly eyeing the stares of passer-byes, "Do you need help finding your son? Is someone supposed to be looking after you?"

An unnatural look of shock marred the face of the woman, "Why you do, dear. You are my daughter."

A cold wash flooded over Sakura as she and Naruto passed a swift note of pity between them. The woman spoke again, "My, it is chilly. Not good weather for little, ol' me. Take me home, children."

"Alright, Ma'am. So…where are we going?" Naruto asked. A twinge of anxiousness lay beneath his words, but concern for the woman coating the undertaste. The elder didn't stop holding onto him, only wrapped her hand around his. Realizing her story could wait, Sakura began to follow the two, before a wail opened itself into the November air–entrapping all attention and stealing the thoughts of all within earshot. Sakura's heart leaped into her throat.

"GET AWAY FROM MY MOTHER!"

The landscape didn't process itself into Sakura's mind before she saw Naruto already thrown to the ground, a hand-print eclipsing his face in an evil red; and a woman's shadow, curtaining him from the sun. Violently, she yanked the older woman and tore her away from Naruto. A clearing of spectators was spawning, people already pushing savagely through one another to see the village's favorite game play out.

A younger woman, the daughter seethed, shoving her mother behind her. "What were you doing with an old woman?! Trying to swindle her?!"

Frantically holding his voice against the fangs of the audience around him, Naruto sputtered and looked around, "Sh-she was lost, I was just trying to help her home!"

At those last words, the infuriated woman barked to the pack around her, "This boy was kidnapping my mother! Shame on you, for picking on those with weak minds!"

"I'm not a liar! I swear!" Naruto roared as he sprang to his feet. Sakura watched in fascinated horror as rolls of foam practically lunged from the swarm of people's mouths as they surrounded him. Naruto himself was locked in a strong fighting stance: fists raised, feet branched to hold his ground.

Anger crashed dangerously in Sakura. The chaos of being spotlighted, of being pricked by a thousand thorny eyes…and seeing it inflicted upon her friend…the audacity! "Hey!" she growled at the pack of people around her. "He's not a liar. Believe me! We were only helping her home."

"Sakura," Naruto muttered, "Stay–"

"You have no right to accuse him of anything."

The woman turned her crazed eyes to Sakura, bewildered by her presence.

"Are you…defending him?" The woman scowled.

"Of course I am," Sakura answered, "He is my friend."

A shockwave of gasps and mutters slammed through the crowd. She noticed the bitter air didn't bite into her skin anymore. It could have been her anger, or that the mob was so riled that their excitement warmed the clearing.

The old woman was being crowded and hushed by a group of people behind her daughter. She was scared, asking where her son was, why her daughter was upset, only being more frightened when strangers answered with 'dead' and 'demon'.

"What is a nice girl like you cavorting with this demon, here?" pounded the woman.

"Excuse me?"

Sakura had placed herself defensively in front of Naruto. The woman was arching her back, detailed wrinkles of anger sprouting like a wildfire across her face. She looks half-mad! Inner Sakura broke into the slowly growing silence, No wonder she treats her own mother so brazenly.

Shrieks erupted behind her and Sakura turned. Naruto was gone.

A growing storm nauseated her. From deep within the pulsing of her heart, a shock of lightning cracked–something awakened. Sakura couldn't stop it, half struck by a fear of its nebulous nature, half shaking by its sheer power in such little quantity. Knits were unknotted, new veins grew and spread throughout her body like spiders' webs. They connected to her every cell, nicked every pore. Sweat was replaced by this thing–only now did Sakura realize it was a feeling. And feelings…well…were the most primitive weapon of any shinobi.

It was her K.I.

"You," Sakura's throat gagged on the macabre illness that infected her breath, "are sick."

She couldn't stop it, and she didn't want to. She didn't stop to appreciate the fear she lashed into the hearts of the horde as she left in search of her friend.

Doves rang their dirge across the pond, orange leaves spun madly in the water as they lost their grip on the maples' branches. He was sitting on a dock over a pond below a ring of hills, counting the time by the number of leaves that collected on the fringes of the pond.

Shutting his eyes against the sun, its afterimage lingered mockingly in the cover of darkness. Naruto's skin prickled like thousands of tiny fingers prodding him; he could never get away from their taunts. No matter how many times, the scabs never healed into scars.

The sun could be helpful and warm, but it could also be hateful…quite often. Melting the world with its heat into submission. He harbored such hate sometimes. Some days his hate grew too villainous, but he only ever allowed himself to scream all this ferocity and power into a pillow. To be silenced so easily.

He didn't have a pillow to scream into that crowd. He could have screamed and done…whatever he wanted; rid himself of them all. But still, his fear aborted his anger. Hurting them would only make them right.

He suddenly sensed her sitting beside him; the fire from her diminished anger still radiating from her skin, saving his chilled fingers from the autumnal air. He moved his fingers to the edge of his open jacket and fiddled with the coupon which smelled of ramen. His mind tried to blink away the recent event but halted when it came to the old woman who had mistaken him for her own.

No one has ever called me their…son. No one has spoken to me like that before.

"I'm sorry, Naruto. I never—" Sakura began.

Oh no, had he spoken out loud?

"Stop, Sakura. I don't want your pity."

He chided himself for speaking that way. They had been teammates, friends, but it had been two years, could they speak that way with each other anymore? They weren't exactly the same team they were in the past. She wouldn't understand, her having a family and all. Her being normal…

After Sakura was shot down, they sat in silence for what felt like hours. It seemed that just from her being there, a shiver snaked down his spine as a cloud came and covered the hateful rays of the sun. He was relieved that she didn't say anything after. He didn't want the pressure to speak, not right now, not after what just happened. Embarrassment rolled in his belly like unsynchronized tidal waves and he sunk his head further into his knees.

Suddenly, he remembered that Sakura had come to tell him something before the incident. "What were you going to tell me earlier?"

"Oh," she said, startled, "it seems kind of…irrelevant now, but I think Lady Tsunade is going to remove Sai from Team Kakashi."

"Huh."

The loaded silence that followed showed neither party knew what to think of this. Naruto sure didn't. He remembered Sai's unsettlingly comforting coversating, he remembered telling Sakura that he thought Sai had been 'nice'—or at least trying to. In hindsight, Naruto wasn't really sure if Sai was. He wasn't stupid; he could see that Sai was placed on the team because of him. Sai was also an agent of Danzō, whatever that meant, and Granny Tsunade made it clear didn't even appreciate his existence.

What if Sai was just being 'nice' to get close to me somehow? It's all my fault he's here.

After a while, the clouds cleared away. The sun appeared, but it was welcoming, the wind uplifting its warmth as he remembered catching Sasuke sitting solitary at this little pond. He regretted never coming here before as he and Sakura stayed until the sun was laying itself to rest.

Few hours later…

She knew her parents were home before she opened the door. Their cumbersome presence exceeded the apartment walls.

When she entered, she saw her parent's litter strewn around the house. Coats tossed on the couch; work bags tipped over by the wall, paperwork leaking out the loose zipper; shoes left dangerously in front of the door; their boisterous selves getting tipsy in the kitchen. Typical.

Being the only shinobi, she was gracefully gifted the ability of not being detectable by her parents. She stealthily avoided the pervasive kitchen light and closed the door to her room. She would lock it, but her mother and father had never given her that privilege. It was removed when Sakura was five.

She was still weary from the incident earlier. She never realized how easy it was to slip so effortlessly into her K.I. Her heart palpated from her own self-shame, I had really wanted to kill someone.

Opening her closet, she changed into her night clothes before she noticed that her collection was…shrunken.

Where're all my clothes?

The eerie sound of the door creaking open nearly made Sakura jump onto the ceiling. Her mother had come in and Sakura hadn't heard her. Dammit.

Mebuki Haruno's ginger hair was rimmed with yellow from the small lamp on Sakura's nightstand. She wobbled over, and Sakura was hit with the invasive odor of too much alcohol hanging on Mebuki's tongue.

"Hey mom, what happened to my clothes?" Sakura asked bluntly.

"My dear, not going to say hi?" Mebuki cooed.

You didn't say hi in the hospital.

She ignored her mother. "Mom, where are my clothes." I know you did something with them. This had her mother's touch written all over it. She had done something like this before, with toys, money, and decor.

"Don't be rude to your mother," Mebuki snapped, though more 'stated' as her words were slurred, "Maybe I'll take all your clothes away then."

Sakura whipped her hands in front of her, readying for an argument that would make the 'righteous' neighbors shift in their seats. "Why did you do this?"

"Maybe look at your gift before I take that away too…" Mebuki scowled and daintily circled her hand toward the other corner of the room. She was too drunk to accurately point where, but she didn't need to.

Sakura slowly walked over to the pernicious thing on the bed. Her shadow loomed achingly over the shroud. Her mother's touch haunted it—the dress's wrinkles smoothed as Mebuki had rubbed her hands up and down to make it placid and neat just for her. Long sleeves curled daintily at the end. It was sewn to fit Sakura's midsection, loose at her wrists. It was a delicate green.

"Red is too bold for you, I always liked you better in green…"

Sakura took a step back. Weights suddenly found themselves in the tips of her fingers, she dropped her hands away from the dress and towards her sides.

Take all her red clothes away and replace them with one green dress.

Instantly, she spawned a hatred for that green.

It couldn't have at least been a shirt?

As time passed, the 'moral' neighbors tolerated the Haruno family's 'uncomfortable' screams long enough for them to stop.

Hundreds and hundreds. Thousands and thousands—mutilated beyond recognition. Bloodied, abused shapes. Skin vaporized, skeletons smeared across the ravenous earth. Hearts smashed, skulls shattered, dreams erased, memories eaten. Any traces of semblance eviscerated.

But what were they? Animals, people? Or both? It didn't matter now—all that mattered was the red liquid seeping into his skin like poison. His victims' curse, revenge of the dead. Their blood would churn and disturb his own. Bundles of tissue and between his claws, flaring pink and pale and wet. A warm substance poured from his mouth and dribbled onto the ground. It tickled his lips, caressed his fangs. The feel of it was an echo—an aftertaste of what it used to be. And his flawless skin, untouched by any afflictions, tightened at the thought that the blood had tasted good.

It tasted so good.

His gaze loomed across the scar of the earth, the wound caused by his swipes. It was pale and bleached with scar tissue, void of any trees. Lumpy with welts of shaved-off hills and blotted with holes. His body modified to the poise of the hunter, distorted to the silhouette of the destroyer. One scrape of his claw and he could carve a ravine, magma dripping from his finger as he lifted to draw another. He would eliminate the world one last time if he could. Again and again, just to feel that shiver that made his nose itch in pleasure.

He could laugh and laugh and the earth would crumble. He could sprint and sprint and displace physics and matter. But, he had liked it when people's screams were gurgled when their throats were clogged with blood. The smell wrung his head into a whir. The way the blood poured in rivulets, outlining and following his veins that pulsed with his own vulgar ink. All eyes were on him.

All eyes were on him.

And then, just like the crunch of an ivory bone between diamond teeth, the fantasy fractured. The adrenaline died of boredom, there was nothing left to kill. His skin sagged and wrinkled, and his claws and limbs shriveled. His eyes caved in, he crumpled. He'd die a beast—alone. Alone, alone, alone. His heart beat slower and slower.

The boy awoke in a pool of something…so wet. His heart pricked his chest, his fear screaming at it to skip a beat.

No. It can't be true. They're not dead. I didn't kill them.

But it wasn't blood, it was his own sweat. His arms were faint and shaking in his skin, the folds of his blankets blooming between his white-knuckled fingers. His tongue could only sense the plastic-smoothness of his dry throat, scream sucked into the walls of his mouth. No brackish liquid blanketing the ground—red and pungent.

He was home, or whatever he called this place.

Bones shivered in his flesh as he flashed his hands out in front of himself. These were his hands. I killed them. I killed them all.

His window was open, and he could see the open sky. An icy breath of wind upset the curtains. A bright flame of light swathed his vision, blinding him, pressing him down. A cornered beast, stripped of all he was until there was just his pathetic panic. The sun lay upon him, like a spotlight. Rays of golden fingers showering him, pointing like daggers pelting into his flesh. Tears rained down onto his bed. They were right.

He was a freak.

A monster.

A demon.

He was never a little boy.

"It's like we're losing our sense of home."

-Harrison Storm, Sense of Home