Hi friends, I'm back! I just want to thank everyone again for the support. Your engagement with this story and patience with my sporadic posting schedule mean a lot to me.
As always, comments and constructive criticism are warmly welcomed.
Chapter 21
How does tragedy strike? Like a bolt of lightning, searing down from a bright blue sky? Like a poison-coated blade, slicing silently out of the shadows? Later, Sakura would contemplate the capriciousness of what they call destiny, the cruelty of a world in which a person could be perfectly content one moment and dead the next, in which a child could be happily sent off to school in the morning only to return home to murdered parents.
But, poor orphan girl that she is, Sakura is not offered the mercy of blissful ignorance: her tragedy comes with foreshadowing, a hundred different signs and clues she couldn't have missed if she had just been looking. She is no stranger to tragedy, after all. But she hadn't wanted to see.
It begins with Sasuke.
It would be an understatement to say that Sakura is surprised by the messy head of dark hair sidling awkwardly between the morning market food stands. Even with his back to her and a thick scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, he is immediately recognizable, his smooth gait and posture giving him away. Sakura watches as he directs barely-concealed bewilderment at the vividly bright fruit selection, the smell of fresh dango, the clamor of dozens of sellers advertising their wares. The fabric of his shirt stretches across his shoulders with the leisurely vitality of quality material, nothing like the rough, limp cotton worn by the other shoppers. Sakura sets down the apple she had been examining, grabs her basket of groceries, and quietly approaches her friend.
"Sasuke?"
The boy startles so hard at her greeting that he knocks several pears off a nearby cart, sending them rolling onto the dirt floor.
"Watch it!" snaps the vendor as she snatches the fruit off the ground. Sakura quickly murmurs an apology and tugs Sasuke away.
"Sakura?" The word comes out garbled, a heavily distorted whisper, and her eyes snap to his face. Angry burns cover his cheeks, only partially hidden by his scarf. She's willing to bet that the inside of his mouth is similarly burned judging by the way he had spoken and the stiff set of his jaw.
"Sasuke! What happened?" she whispers in horror. Gently, she reaches out a hand to tilt his chin up to the light. By this point in her genjutsu training, Sakura has read enough books on the human body to immediately see the severity of the injury. Sasuke would need medical attention soon if he wanted to prevent scarring.
But the boy takes his time responding, choosing instead to stare down at his feet as he scuffs a sandal against a wayward pebble. He's clearly weighing his words, perhaps in an effort to convey his situation as succinctly as possible.
"Training," he finally lisps. "Accident." He casts a meaningful look around at the stalls, then eyes Sakura imploringly. "Burn cream?"
"There won't be any here." Sakura takes his hand and begins to tug him down the street. "Nothing that can fix second degree burns like yours. We have to get to the hospital fast—"
"No!" Sasuke hisses, pulling her to a stop by a food stall selling breakfast omelettes. His face twists and with effort he says, "Parents can't know." The panic turns his face paper white, the vivid burns a stark contrast against the pale skin.
The omelette vendor stares at them curiously from behind his grill, though the loud hissing of the cooking eggs thankfully prevents him from overhearing their conversation. Sakura bites her lip, debating whether to question him further, and then dismisses the notion in favor of the more pressing matter. "Sasuke, we have to go to the hospital. Nothing you can get in a store will have enough healing effect to stop the scars." The hospital would have a burn cream strong enough, she knows. A burn cream infused with healing chakra used precisely for shinobi training.
But Sasuke looks on the verge of tears, the prospect of facial scarring seemingly the last straw. Sakura thinks quickly. Stretching out her hand, she slaps it onto one of the vendor's omelette grills, gritting her teeth as the skin reddens and bubbles and splits at the contact. Ignoring the vendor's shocked exclamation, she pulls her hand off the grill and cradles it to her chest, other hand reaching for Sasuke's wrist.
"Let's go," she urges as she drags his stiff form towards the hospital. He follows woodenly, his face frozen in shock. It isn't until they reach the hospital doors that he suddenly takes her good hand in his and gives it a squeeze. No words are spoken, but she reads the gratitude plainly in his eyes.
Sakura reaches out and wraps his scarf more securely around his neck, adjusting it to cover all of the burns. "Come on," she says warmly, and tugs him through the doors.
In a bid to avoid curious eyes, Sakura had taken care to lead Sasuke to the civilian side of the hospital complex with the assumption that burn cream could be obtained on either side. Unfortunately, the receptionist is not accommodating. She leans over the counter and considers them through a layer of heavy makeup and disdain. "Shinobi-grade burn cream is only for shinobi use, sorry." She looks down at Sakura with a look that isn't sorry at all.
"I'm in the Academy, does that work?"
The receptionist sniffs, glossed lips pinching into a frown. "Sorry, but no. Please book an appointment with a doctor if needed."
Luckily, Sasuke chooses that moment to step forward. He's smart and doesn't speak so as not to give away his injuries, but the silent look works well with his cool eyes and the Uchiha crest-shaped pin fastened at the front of his cloak. Something—an emotion, a realization—flits across the receptionist's face when she catches sight of it, and her entire demeanor shifts.
"Of course, I'm happy to make an exception this time seeing as you're first-timers!" She smiles, promptly ignoring Sakura in favor of Sasuke. "You will have to pay out of pocket though, since you're not yet covered as a shinobi. "Will you be paying for your friend?"
Sasuke wordlessly hands her his coin pouch, and the woman slips into a backroom and returns with several jars of different sizes. "Which would you like?" She taps a shiny red fingernail against the counter and regards them with a winning smile.
"How much would we need to cover this burn?" Sakura asks, showing the woman her injured palm.
The woman winces at the sight. "Maybe two FTUs? The ointment is quite fast-acting, so I would spread a thin layer over the palm, wait maybe an hour, and then spread another layer if needed."
"Two adult FTUs?"
"Right. So maybe three for you? It shouldn't take too much. This burn cream is really potent you know—it was made by the great Slug Princess herself!"
"Ah, thank you." Sakura makes a mental note to find out who this 'Slug Princess' is at another time. "Why don't we take the medium-sized jar, then? In case we run into further training accidents."
Half an hour later, Sakura nudges Sasuke through her front door and leads him to the kitchen, setting down the plum-sized jar onto the dining table. The day is unseasonably hot, so she opens the window above the sink to let in a fresh breeze, then rinses her hands thoroughly with cool water. Returning to the table, she pops the lid off the jar and smears a healthy dollop of ointment onto her finger.
"What's an FTU?" Sasuke mumbles through stiff lips.
"Fingertip unit. Basically what I can fit on my fingertip, see? Though technically a bit more than that since my hands are smaller than an adult's." Sakura shows him. With gentle strokes, Sakura applies a layer of cream to his cheeks, carefully checking to make sure she's covered every injured area. Then, she hands him a mirror. "I'm guessing you'd rather finish the rest yourself."
Shooting her a grateful look, Sasuke dips his finger into the jar of ointment and hesitantly begins to spread ointment on the inside of his cheeks. In the meantime, Sakura applies ointment to her own burned palm and digs through her medicine cabinet for several gauze balls.
"I'm no expert, but I'm guessing we wouldn't want your saliva to dissolve or wash away the cream," Sakura says as she returns to the table. "I'm not even sure if this stuff is edible. Why don't you stick several of these around your tongue to help keep the cream dry?" She offers Sasuke the box.
He nods, grabbing two and poking them into his mouth. "Don't worry, my clan uses this stuff all the time. It's definitely safe inside and around the mouth." His voice is still muffled from the gauze, but the ointment is evidently working—for the first time that day, his features have relaxed and he no longer seems scared to move his facial muscles.
Sakura's palm is also looking much better. The blisters and dead skin have scabbed and flaked away, as if by magic. Aside from the reddish hue and sensitivity of the new skin, the injury seems basically healed. Impressed, Sakura flexes her fingers and feels no pain, just a slight tightness.
"Would it be alright if I keep some of this?"
Sasuke shrugs. "Of course. Go ahead." His cheeks are once again smooth and unblemished, only a pink flush giving away the prior wound.
Using a small spoon, Sakura carefully transfers a third of the remaining ointment into a clean jar and screws the lid shut.
"Tea?" she asks as she places the jar in her medicine cabinet. "Fruit?"
"Fruit," Sasuke says decisively. "Tea would probably be too hot." He glances at the clock, then sets about dabbing the used ointment off his cheeks with a cloth.
Sakura rummages through the refrigerator and pulls out half a papaya after dismissing a box of strawberries for their sourness—the acidity may irritate Sasuke's newly-healed mouth, after all. Scooping the seeds out into the trash, she carefully cuts the fruit into bite-sized chunks and loads them onto a plate.
"Here," she says, offering Sasuke a toothpick. "Now, will you tell me what happened?"
He doesn't answer immediately, preferring instead to slide a piece of papaya into his mouth, seemingly satisfied with the lack of pain. Then he leans across the table and says in a lowered voice, "You have to promise not to tell anyone."
"Alright," Sakura agrees with a frown.
In a stage-whisper, Sasuke says, "I was practicing the Great Fireball Technique."
Sakura's never personally seen it before, but the jutsu is a famous one. "Why is it a secret? Don't all Uchiha know it?"
"No, only real Uchihas can do it! They normally don't teach it to us until we become genin. I'm secretly training to surpass aniki!"
Sakura straightens in alarm. "You mean to tell me you're practicing elemental ninjutsu without adult knowledge or supervision?!"
Sasuke hesitates, then reaches for another piece of fruit with a sheepish smile upon his lips. "No, oto-san taught me the basics, but I've been sneaking in some extra practice so I can learn it faster." The sides of his mouth drift down into a pout. "Aniki got it on his first try."
Sakura smiles at that. "Maybe you'll be better at something else."
"No!" gasps Sasuke in a scandalized tone. "Aniki's the best at everything!" Then he frowns. "Although I think oto-san is mad at him. Can you believe it, oto-san even told me that if I can learn the clan's techniques by the time I graduate, then he'll consider making me the heir!"
"Really?"
"Don't tell anyone, it's a secret."
"Does Itachi-san know?"
"I guess so?" Sasuke frowns. "I don't know. He's been gone for weeks."
"On a mission?" Sakura asks casually.
"Probably?" He looks at her in sudden distress. "Oto-san wouldn't have kicked him out, right?"
"I highly doubt it," Sakura assures him.
"Yeah, kaa-san would never let him." Sasuke nods to himself, popping another chunk of papaya into his mouth.
"Do you know why your father is angry?"
"At aniki? No. But it must be something big, oto-san loves aniki." Sasuke's mouth threatens to slip back into a frown. "Do you think he's serious about the heir thing?"
Sakura pauses. "I don't see why not," she says carefully.
Sasuke seems satisfied. "I'll definitely have to train more. If it comes down to a duel for the title I have to give aniki a fight to remember."
"If you really wanted the title, I'm not sure Itachi would fight you on it."
"You think he'd give it to me?"
"I think he really cares about you," Sakura says quietly.
Sasuke doesn't reply. After a moment, he reaches for the jar of burn cream and begins to apply a new coat of ointment to his cheeks. "I should probably get back to training," he mumbles.
Scooping out another dollop for her palm, Sakura nods reluctantly. "Don't overdo it. Burning yourself repeatedly is probably a bad idea even with the cream."
"Yeah, I know." Sasuke grabs the jar and hops off his chair, heading for the door. "I'm almost there, I can feel it. Just a few more tries. Thanks Sakura! And remember not to tell anyone!"
The door slams and Sakura listens to the sound of hasty feet thumping off the porch. The sun shines hotly down upon the crown of her head: it is late morning, nearly noon, and the house is still.
"Kumo-chan?" she calls into the house. There is no answer, as she'd expected. She rarely sees the cat outside of the occasional dream nowadays. Sticking a toothpick into a piece of papaya, she brings it to her mouth and lets the buttery juices trickle into her throat.
Something is off, she thinks. Something feels wrong, like a mass of something cold and slimy sliding slowly down her esophagus and burrowing into her gut. Suddenly not in the mood for papaya anymore, Sakura pushes the plate away and sets about clearing the table.
No, she wouldn't worry about Itachi again, she decides, or any of this Uchiha business. Determinedly wiping down the countertop, she blocks out all Uchiha-related thoughts before the nebulous cloud can coalesce into something concrete and terrifying. No, Sakura thinks, she still has a full day of errands to run, training to catch up on, and it's time to give her silly fears a rest. Placing the leftover fruit back into the fridge, she rinses the last of the cream off her hands, grabs her bag, and heads out without looking back.
A slight evening wind ruffles his hair and Kakashi adjusts his perch upon the shingled roof. Matsuri has just invited Daisuke to stay the night and things are starting to look steamy, but Kakashi finds himself struggling to keep his focus on the small orange book. Shifting lazily, he flips a page for show and stretches. Any moment now—
Someone alights on the rooftop next to him. "Still obsessed with that trash, hah, Kakashi?" The shinobi's posture is tense, belying the lightness of his tone, and Kakashi instinctively tenses as well.
"Always a connoisseur of good literature, Aoba." He lifts his head up to grace his companion with a one-eyed smile.
Aoba snorts. "I would argue, but that would imply I've read it. What are you doing all the way out here in the civilian district? Took forever to find you."
"Well, you see, I was looking for this highly-recommended yakisoba place and then saw this poor old lady trying to cross a busy street—"
"Nevermind, Kakashi, I was just asking," Aoba sighs. "Anyway, I came to get you." He straightens, face grave. "They've found the body."
Kakashi stiffens. "Itachi?" he asks sharply. He is met with silence.
After a moment Aoba sighs and lets his shoulders drop. "The hospital is performing an autopsy as we speak. Meet at the Hokage's office in ten."
"Hm."
"Do not be late. With the way things are looking…you're probably the best bet if things go south." He turns and leaps away.
Kakashi fiddles with a dog-eared page for several moments, then stands and stows the book into one of the pockets of his flak jacket. The sun is setting peacefully, its belly sinking ripe and full into the distant trees. Kakashi doesn't look that far, focusing instead on a house several streets away, dark and seemingly empty behind a neat, white picket fence. She'd come back several hours ago, he knows. He'd seen her climb up the stairs to her front porch, arms laden with groceries, and disappear inside. He can feel her chakra signature now, though just barely: a clear sign of chakra-cloaking abilities far beyond normal for her age.
Raking a hand through his hair, Kakashi considers leaving. Maybe Genma was right about him getting even weirder than usual recently—it does seem a bit stalkerish to lurk all afternoon by someone's house and monitor their activities. But Kakashi had woken up with a feeling—a feeling that something was off. And he's stayed alive for too long to ignore his gut instincts.
It had taken him the better part of the day to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from, and Kakashi still hasn't figured out why Sakura of all people is the current target of his worries, especially given the news from Aoba. Surely, the Uchiha issue far outstrips whatever may be going on with the girl—but didn't she know the Uchihas? Kakashi resists the sudden and ridiculous urge to barge in there and shake her until she tells him everything, choosing instead to peruse her front lawn for the umpteenth time. Nothing out of the norm jumps out at him. The house looks tidy and calm, the girl herself probably sleeping or something like it based on her chakra flow. A thin curtain flutters rhythmically behind an open window.
Kakashi frowns slightly behind his mask. Maybe his instincts are wrong, this time. Or perhaps the event they are pointing to is still far away. The sun is a mere sliver now and, as he watches, even that disappears, the endless lapis lazuli of twilight unfolding before his eye. He would be late if he didn't leave now.
Kakashi moves to leap off the rooftop, then hesitates. The girl is waking up. He waits, muscles tensed, as her chakra flow quickens and makes its way to the kitchen, where a light soon turns on. Outside the house, nothing stirs.
'Just a little longer,' Kakashi promises himself. He doesn't know when he developed such a cursed soft spot for this kid, but it would probably bother him all night if he left now. 'Just a few more minutes.'
Kakashi was right: Sakura had been sleeping. After training and finishing the grocery trip Sasuke had interrupted that morning, she had arrived home bone-tired and crawled into bed, hair still wet from the shower, for a nap. And she had dreamed.
It had started as a normal dream, which was in itself strange—nothing like the hellish nightmares she had been subjected to for months now in the name of genjutsu training. Sakura had blinked her eyes open to see calm blue sky rather than violent red, inhaled to smell fresh spring wind rather than the cloying stench of rotting blood. She was surrounded by soft grass rather than jagged rock, and the air did not tremble with screams.
She was also moving, and quickly. Much faster than she'd ever moved before, even though the scenery did not change as quickly as she would have expected, for everything also seemed much bigger than she was used to. The grasses tickled her stomach and shoulders and chin as she sped through the field, trees as tall as buildings rising in the distance. And inside her there had only been panic, a terrible urgency for something unknown. It ran like cold water through her veins and spewed poisonous fog into her mind, but it also propelled her to keep running, her legs seemingly knowing where to go, as if they were answering a call.
Sliding into the trees, Sakura had found herself flying through the branches with nary a sound, limbs buoyed by a dexterity she had never before possessed, ears pricked for something, a movement, a sound—
The sound of running water. Leaping to the shady forest floor, she had dashed over several tree roots, flown over a giant log half-hidden in shadow and out onto a riverbank. Sunlight sparkled off the slow-moving currents, the ground mossy and soft. And she had ignored it all, eyes scanning the bank, nose lifted to sniff the air.
She had smelled him before she saw him, the metallic scent drifting along lazily in the breeze. Speeding up even further, she had raced down the riverbank, the tree front blurring into a solid, dark wall of gray at her side, until she spotted the body, lying quietly on the shallows.
In her dream, Sakura had stared at the black cloak floating gently in the water, the lapping waves creating beautiful trails of red along the sand. Her heart had felt as if it were made of glass, filled with water turning into ice, expanding. Silently, she had padded up to the body and nudged at a limp, gloved hand, then circled around to the head and patted at it with one grey-white paw until the head lolled to the side and revealed a peaceful face, pale and unscarred, both eye sockets empty.
An unearthly cry had rung through the clearing then, an inhuman sound Sakura had only distantly registered as her own through the horror and shock. Backing away from the body, she had stumbled into the river, dyeing her front paws cotton-candy pink. The eyes staring back at her from the water had not been green, but sun-and-sky, and then—
And then they had closed as if in farewell.
Sakura wakes with a start, sheets drenched with sweat and heart filled with an unexplainable dread. The bedroom is dark, and it takes her several moments to recollect the events of the day: Sasuke, training, nap. She must have had an awful dream, she deduces, but she cannot for the life of her remember what it had been about.
"Strange," she mutters to herself. She could always recollect her genjutsu training dreams with perfect clarity. Sliding out of bed on rubbery legs, she pads into the kitchen and turns the light on, the lamp casting a yellow glow upon the dining table.
Sakura suddenly feels very alone in this empty house. The room is dark outside her little puddle of light, and time seems to stand still within the quiet walls. Beyond the open window above the sink comes the faint rustling of animals settling in for the night.
"Kumo-chan?" Sakura calls into the house for the second time that day, just on the off-chance that the cat would appear, but there is no reply. On the floor beside the fridge, Kumo's food and water bowls sit pristine and untouched as they have for weeks.
Turning away from the sight, Sakura decides that a nice dinner would hopefully chase away the lingering unease from her nap. Digging through the fridge for some eggs and vegetables, she turns to the sink to give the greens a rinse.
She does not expect someone to fly through the open window and tackle her to the floor.
"Stay down and don't look up!" a voice shouts above the sudden din of metal against metal, the rapid thudding that Sakura now recognizes to be the sound of weapons embedding themselves into wood.
Eyes glued to the leg of her dining table. Sakura tries to still her trembling as Kakashi's chakra signature alights in front of her. He pays her no attention, however, the majority of his focus directed out into the living room.
From the darkness comes a smooth, unmistakable voice. "How did you know to find me here?"
Kakashi ignores the question. "We have the body. The Hokage is assembling the council as we speak. If you come without a fight, you might be granted some leniency given your status as the Uchiha heir."
There is a pause, and then Itachi makes a soft sound. "We're a bit past that, I'm afraid, as my clansmen have all just died."
For a single, timeless moment, there is complete and utter silence. And then the two shinobi flash into motion, tables and chairs flying as they engage in a ferocious battle of taijutsu. A small pug materializes next to the spot where Sakura lies frozen, stiff as a board.
"Yo," says the pug. Sakura cannot muster the energy to even blink at the sight of the talking dog. "Boss says we gotta safely get you out of here ASAP and then find help. Can you fit through that window?" It pins her with a lazy, droopy-eyed gaze nearly identical to Kakashi's.
Sakura's vocal chords refuse to work, but she manages a jerky nod. Dragging herself into a crouched position, she painstakingly crawls onto the kitchen counter while the pug throws words of encouragement at her progress. Behind them, the sounds of fighting have moved into the living room. For the moment, at least, it seems as if whatever Kakashi must be doing to keep her escape route clear is working.
Shoving her shaky legs through the opening, Sakura slowly shimmies out the window while determinedly not thinking. Just as she's about to slide the rest of her torso through the gap, a barrage of kunai flies through the room, dozens of blades lodging themselves into the wall and windowpane centimeters above her head. With a shriek, she loses her grip and tumbles outside into the bushes.
"Come on!" urges the pug. "Don't look back, let's hurry!"
Sakura stumbles along behind the dog, limbs only half under her control until they finally reach the fence, where she forces her fingers to undo the latch through sheer force of will. And then a thunderous crash from the house cracks through the air, followed by searing heat, the smell of dust and smoke and ash. Sakura turns.
"No!" shouts the dog, "Don't look at his eyes!"
But it's too late. As if entranced, Sakura beholds the house she has known all her life, its front wall blown open, all of its memories and hopes and tears consumed by sunset fire, the flames reaching greedily up into the sky to cast an angry orange glow over the neighborhood. And she stares at the black-cloaked figure outlined by that light, his face that of a stranger, and those eyes, which hold nothing but darkness, those eyes: cold, red, spinning…
Kakashi leaps out of the building, completely ignoring Itachi for the moment as he focuses on getting the fucking idiot out of there. He arrives just in time to grab Sakura before her eyes close, before she slips into unconsciousness.
And so Kakashi arrives just in time to watch her mind fall apart.
.
.
.
It happened! I know some of you had hoped that the Uchiha Massacre wouldn't occur, so let's to take a moment to be sad together. On the bright side, we have finally reached the end of what I've privately labeled "Part Zero"! From here on out, the story will shift away from slower, slice-of-life chapters to faster, plot-based chapters. I'm personally pretty excited for the next chapter—if everything goes as planned, we'll see some cool new developments.
Until next time!