Sakura hadn't been half bad in a fight, but this body's inadequacies were already apparent.

Her mind had already determined that she would hook her ankle at the White Zetsu's waist and throw all of her weight upon it, rolling to the side and sending him hurtling into a nearby tree. And then she would channel her own power through the trunk, calling upon Wood Style, wrapping the creature in unbreakable branches that would begin to siphon its chakra, feeding her strength in turn.

But there was a striking delay between the formation of the plan and the movement stirring in her sleep-stricken limbs. Even if she'd been able to react in the split-second she wanted to, the creature had a monstrous grip on her child's arms, pinning her to her cot; where their skin made contact, she could feel her little pool of chakra begin to flow out of her and into it, a mockery of her own plan.

She could have growled for how weak she felt.

It was lucky, then, that she spotted Kakashi in the very next instant, the crescent moon's sharply-lit sliver hanging in the sky behind him. He'd been right on the Zetsu from the start, she realized, with a kunai poised at the back of its neck. This, then, she could work with; she shot up in a rush, arms still pinned to the tiny mattress, and collided her forehead with its own. A flash of white light burst behind her eyelids, followed by an instant throbbing pain that made her cry out.

Forget a healing aura that soothed any and all ailments the moment they appeared—it took almost everything she could spare, that wasn't being funneled to her meager reserves, just to dull the harsh sensation to a passive ache.

It was a surging relief that Kakashi seemed to be as quick to action as the version of him she'd once known. The moment her headbutt connected and the Zetsu reeled back, he'd plunged the blade into its neck to let it sink in as far as it could go, likely counting on severing its spinal cord. But, perhaps in anticipation of such retaliation, the creature had already begun to split itself into two. It was with equal parts fascination and horror that Sakura, now propped up on her elbows, watched the strange, plantlike fibers from which it was composed stretch out and reform itself into a similar, yet distinctly different, entity. This one, of course, shared traces of her own chakra signature, that it'd stolen away from her in just the few moments it had atop her body.

The one that'd been stabbed pivoted its torso with a surprising strength despite its quickly fading life force, and threw out a kick at the apex that Kakashi had to leap back to avoid. Before the newly-formed body fully caught its bearings, Sakura tried to shimmy out from under it—a moderate success for only a half-second before the heel of her foot caught on the end of her hair, giving her scalp a terrible yank.

Just before it stood to its full height, there was another cool hand on her bicep, this one smaller, steadier. It pulled, her body sliding cleanly from where it'd been nestled between her sleeping mat and the thin blanket. And though she wasn't thrilled at the feeling of her back being dragged across hard dirt and pointy rocks that dug into her at all sorts of fun angles, she was definitely grateful for the spontaneous show of teamwork.

She only had a brief moment to register that her back was flush against Sasuke's chest, who was hauling her up in his arms. Wide-eyed with her face reddening in an instant, it was the most human she'd recalled feeling in recent memory, the years spent pining over this very same boy flooding back into her at the simplicity of being held by him.

But that wasn't it—no, he was already letting go once he was sure she was steady on her feet. She almost cursed under her breath, half in sincerity and half in laughter; it seemed that even in this other life, he was just not that into her. She reached up a hand to the sore spot on her head and glanced down at the small cluster of long, shining strands of her hair beneath her sandaled feet.

Kakashi was already clashing with the Zetsu, which had pulled the kunai from its clone's neck. It seemed to be making an attempt to move deeper into the forest, attacking only to defend itself and cover its escape.

"Sasuke! Sakura-kun!" Kakashi shouted over the crisp sounds of metal on metal. "Get Naruto up and stay hidden!"

Sasuke sucked his teeth in annoyance. "The mission—"

"The mission is compromised!" Kakashi hissed in reply. "Keep quiet and take cover; that's an order."

Sakura had to reach out and grab Sasuke's arm to keep him from darting off. "We're only genin," she insisted, seeing without wanting to the memory of how the Zetsu could adapt its fighting style on the fly, the way their numbers had surrounded her woods and watched, waiting. With how powerless she felt in her current state, she couldn't fathom fighting one now. "It's safer to do what sensei says!"

Even as she said it she knew it wasn't right. She could feel the strength in him, the same she'd remembered from her first youth. Back then she'd sat by, useless and crying and bleeding, while he and Naruto had fought past their limits. If they'd survived that fight with Haku, it was possible they could scrape by against a Zetsu, especially with her actually helping instead of keeping to herself, cowering.

But if she could keep them safe, spare them from how deeply that fight had scarred and shaped them, shouldn't she? And whatever had differed from her first time as a mortal, it was enough that Sasuke didn't feel compelled to leap into action before she could get a word in edgewise—there was something more, too, that gave her pause, about how Kakashi had been planning to teach them healing techniques.

There was a radical change somewhere, one that meant children now were far more valued than they'd been in her time.

She was bolting before she'd even made a decision, following their sensei's orders without any more deliberation. Coming to a skidding stop on her knees next to Naruto, she made a note to maybe not do that anymore until she could manage to heal as she went, her skin shredding with a burn that made her suck in a sharp breath, wincing. He was already pushing himself up, woken by the noise—still as heavy a sleeper as always.

"Oi, oi," he started, his brows furrowed as he stared through the dark at the skirmish. "What's goin' on? And where's—"

One of Kakashi's throwing stars whizzed by, a brief silver flash that she would've missed if she'd blinked. It lodged itself into a tree trunk just behind her head; she and Naruto both stared at it with wide eyes from the ground, upon which she'd pushed his skull as she flattened herself beside him. She craned her neck back to the action, noting that Kakashi didn't seem anymore to be going for the kill, opting instead to try to incapacitate the creature. If he were hoping to simply destroy it and be done, she knew it would've been over by now.

"Where did that freaky guy come from?" Naruto whispered, giving an anxious shake of Sakura's shoulder. "And where'd the old man go? I don't see him."

She clasped one of her hands over his mouth; Kakashi had told them to keep quiet so none of them gave away any details of the mission, and even though she was desperate herself for knowledge, she surely didn't want to risk any hint of her whereabouts getting back to the Black Zetsu or, gods forbid, Kaguya herself.

Her stomach flipped in unease as she scanned the area. With her focus entirely on Team 7, she'd forgotten the purpose of this mission in the first place, and it only made sense that Naruto, dead set on becoming Hokage, would ask after their charge. When she turned back to where she'd run from Sasuke's side, she saw him crouched in the nearby brush—well, she knew that he was crouched there, because what she saw were the glow of his Sharingan eyes as he assessed the situation.

When he felt her gaze on him, he turned his head. She pulled her hand from Naruto's mouth, glancing down to shoot him a severe glare as she held one finger up to her lips. It was only when she was confident that he got the memo that she turned back to the other boy.

She lifted both hands to sign, Where is Tazuna?

He hesitated, watching her with heavy regard and furrowed brows before his pale hands flashed through the shrub as he returned, His chakra signature is...

He's dead? she asked.

But he shook his head, then just before pointing to the dead Zetsu he signed, Not sure how to explain it, but...

She paled, understanding flooding her. Springing to her feet, she sprinted to the dying creature's side and put her hands upon it, dragging the two longest fingers of her right hand along his pathways and feeling the faint flicker of a civilian's chakra. That's right, she scolded herself inwardly, remembering just how expertly the Zetsu could mimic someone's signature. As Sasuke appeared by her side, she looked up to him to see him sign,

It feels just like that old man's, doesn't it?

She nodded, pulling back her hands from the body. They copy it from others. It can't be sussed out through sensory ability alone—you have to trick it into giving itself away.

He was halfway through asking, How do you know all this? when Naruto slid to their sides.

"I can't keep track of your hand movements," he said in a whispered yell. "Did Kaka-sensei teach us those and I just forgot? What'd you guys find out?"

"It copied Tazuna's chakra," Sasuke said in a low voice, opting to flat-out ignore the other boy's question about the hand signs. Sakura, then, followed that lead.

"And they can split themselves apart for instant reinforcements. The one that's fighting sensei stole my chakra."

"Tch," muttered Sasuke, still glaring at Naruto. "You're an Uzumaki. Didn't you feel it?"

"Oi, oi," he returned, his agitation sparked, "my expertise lies in other areas."

"Like turning into a woman to distract men twice your age? Real dignified. Your sensory range should be triple—"

Sakura held out both arms, giving each of their shoulders a light but firm shove. "Cut it out, both of you."

Just when it seemed that they were only going to keep bickering, there came a terrible creaking from beneath them, the sound of an old, dry branch caught in a gale. The Zetsu's body gave one wild shake, and Sasuke's glowing eyes widened as he called, suddenly frantic,

"Get back!"

All three of them kicked off from the ground and leapt backwards just as that sickly white form burst open: first the rounded curve of its biceps, then at the place where its ribs parted to give way to its stomach, again at each of the thighs, seams ripped through its unnatural flesh. But there was no blood, no stench of decay and rot for which Sakura had braced herself.

In its place was the wonderful scent of tree bark, of fresh leaves, of budding flowers on branches.

The trunk sprung up from the ground straight as an arrow, gnarled roots from all of those limbs tangling together to form it. It rose only a foot or so higher than the wildest edges of Kakashi's hair, were Sakura gauging it right. It ceased its phenomenal growth as quickly as it'd started, its leaves as lovely as the others in the forest around it, shrouded a deep blue by the dark of night.

Just as the three of them got to their feet, Kakashi himself reappeared from the foliage depths, followed closely by a small number of familiar ninken. He took one look at the tree, then down at the corpse into which it was buried, and then gave a tired sigh as his good eye landed on the three of them.

But before he could manage to ask how the three of them managed to screw this up, Naruto was already launching into his own interrogation. "Where did that thing come from? Did it kill Tazuna? Where'd it run off to? Did you kill it, Kaka- sensei?"

"I suppose this means you all are unharmed." His gaze lingered on the boys for what seemed to be an eternity each, satisfied they'd not been injured. "As for Tazuna," he continued with a severity that made Sakura shiver, "it would appear he was never here at all. His impostor ran off deeper into the woods."

"You let it get away?" asked Sasuke, incredulous. Sakura tried not to shake for fear of what that could mean.

"Wanted to see where it's headed. One of my ninken is trailing it as we speak." When he turned to Sakura, she wished she could become as small as possible and vanish without a trace. How had she managed to miss just how intimidating he could be? Things felt almost easier when she'd flown under his radar, getting by without ever being noticed. "Specifically, I'd like to find out what it wanted with you."

"She was sleeping closest to where the two of you made camp," Sasuke offered, though she didn't know if it was in her defense or because he didn't actually believe she was worth any enemy singling out. "It probably wandered over and attacked on some sort of instinct."

"Perhaps," Kakashi conceded, in a tone that Sakura had only learned after she'd made chuunin meant It's unlikely, but I don't have all of the pieces just yet. And besides, only she and her sensei had seen the way the Zetsu was staring over her, watching. And now it was probably heading straight back to its master, who in turn would somehow try to wake Kaguya and...!

Her dread, and moreso her silence, she knew would not do her any favors. She swallowed and asked, "You've—never seen anything like that before?"

His good eye narrowed for only an instant. If she hadn't gotten to know him so well in her life before, she would've missed it, wouldn't have understood that it meant she guessed right. And if she hadn't been the Fifth Hokage's disciple and biggest kiss-ass, she would never have known that there was nobody in the Leaf—besides the sage Jiraiya, of course—that her shishou trusted with the most classified of information, with the most sensitive of missions. Hatake Kakashi was a master of intel-gathering then, and she knew that thread of fate had remain unchanged.

"I haven't," he lied coolly. "Not beyond a few wives' tales here and there, to keep curious children out of the woods."

The Zetsu were known, then, to Konoha's elites, an open secret among them that was not to be discussed with anyone of lower rank. "Then, shouldn't we report this to Hokage-sama?"

"Indeed," he said. A spark of mischief came into his dark eye then as he added, "And the three of you will each be writing incident reports of your own. And don't"—he'd barked it suddenly, his head snapping in Naruto's direction, who'd reached out a hand to the tree—"touch it. This is now a hazard zone. Take your things and re-set camp at oh-four, thirty-six. I'll join you shortly; Sakura is in charge until then, with Bull as your escort. Watch each other's backs."

She pursed her lips in distaste; the coordinates were nearly a kilometer away, and being in charge only meant that she would need to keep the boys from arguing and that she'd need to keep watch while they got to go back to sleep. Grumbling as she threaded one of her ribbons through her hair—her hitai-ate had slid off when Sasuke dragged her, she only then realized, and she'd already stuffed it into her bag along with her blanket—she half-rolled her sleeping cot and then paused.

Emanating from the new tree was a small hum, so quiet like the fluttering of a bird's wings it was a wonder she'd caught the sound at all. With her bag slung over her shoulder and her bedroll hanging limp in her arms, she glanced to Kakashi, who was facing the opposite direction and speaking to Pakkun. She wanted to smile down at the little dog, having missed him and his squished face more than she knew, but the pull to the tree was becoming impossible to ignore.

Even as she was drawn to it, she hesitated. Would it not risk Kaguya's gaze? With no way to know if she'd somehow succeeded in her resurrection, Sakura's unease was at war within her, fighting against the pull of that deep, otherworldly thrum of the treetrunk. Overhead, the crescent moon was waning. Tomorrow night would mark the peak of her power.

Her fingertips barely brushed the surface of the cool bark, and her vision went black.

Wife.

At the sound, her heart leapt into her throat. Madara, she said into that void, the places where their minds had once been linked. Perhaps, she hoped with all of her might, that connection still held true.

Where are you? she tried, but even as she spoke it, she knew it wasn't enough to reach him. Even now her strength was floundering, and in reality she pressed her palm into the tree, her fingers fanning out, hungry for the curious traces of shizen energy pulsing through it, fainter with every beat of her heart.

Stay vigilant, Madara went on. Friends...lean on them—shadows and—seek to...your power—uncontested.

She furrowed her brows, her forehead suddenly slick with a cold sweat from how hard she was concentrating. Every last snarl of power she'd begun to store away in her reserves yesterday she pulled forth, her pulse a pounding drum.

Seek the Tailed Beasts. Gyuuki—Eight-Tails. An old man...safe from Kaguya.

Even here in the darkness the edges of her sight began to blur. She was grateful for this news, clearly of substantial importance, but why did it have to reach her now, of all times? Once she regained some measure of her energy, she could make contact with her other selves—her other slugs—and flip through their memories throughout time to find it again, but she nearly groaned to think how long that could take.

And then something curious happened: she could feel her own feeble chakra bolster, propped up by one that was stronger, steadier. It sent her hairs standing on end, both in its apprehensive support of her and in the markings of its composition. Static electricity wove through her pathways, Lightning carefully avoiding the winding threads of her mortal body's Earth chakra and mingling happily with her Water instead, amplified by it.

She didn't have time to spend feeling particularly touched by Kakashi's gesture, not yet, because though Madara's voice was still disjointed, it was louder now in her head.

...you are an Uchiha wife. You are the Mother of Slugs. In a time far beyond ours, your influence remains. I will uphold the peace you fought to bring at the expense of your strength.

And then she saw something, the darkness in her mind giving way to a dull green, her bright leaves made foggy and smeared by her fatigue. She took it in, letting it sharpen at small, short intervals before a shock of hair caught her eye. She spun, feeling her too-long hair twirl around her with the motion, and before she could even comprehend what she was seeing, there were already tears in her eyes.

There sat Madara and his youngest brother, huddled together by her river beneath beautiful dappling sunlight. They were watching her at a strange angle, one that made her feel small but not insignificant, protected in the warmth of the elder brother's powerful hands.

You are loved, declared Okojo, his hands the only thing she could see with perfect clarity. Please do not ever forget it.

A breath left her light-headed and giddy, her smile widening just as she—

But then they were gone, vanished along with the gentle rays of the sun. Her head spun, a terrible prick of pain pooling at the center of her forehead from where she'd pulled too much chakra that spread uncomfortably down her nose and into her throat. She blinked, her eyes readjusting to the dark hues of night, confused as to why she wasn't falling when she finally understood.

"In the shinobi world," Kakashi said in a tone that would've frightened the original Sakura, "those who break the rules are scum."

Her wrist—the one she'd used to reach out and touch the tree—was caught painfully tight in his hand. What'd felt like a handful of minutes to her as she strained her ears, urging Madara's voice to reach them through time, had been nothing longer than a half-second in reality. Kakashi had taken hold of her to imperceptibly strengthen her, likely both concerned she was on the verge of chakra exhaustion and eager to find out just what the hell was going on with her; to Naruto and Sasuke, though, it only seemed that he'd stalked over to remove her offending fingers and dole out a well-earned scolding.

The boys, to their credit, did little more than blink their surprise before returning to hurriedly pack their things. Sakura shrugged to resituate her bag, its straps feeling almost confining now. And it wasn't hard to keep up appearances: Kakashi's remark had made her flush in shame, for she had always tried to be a rule-follower and—

She nearly tripped. Calling them scum, that was nothing she hadn't heard before, but that had never been the end of it. He'd always clarified with nothing but seriousness that those who abandon their friends were worse than scum. As the boys finished gathering their bags, she eyed Kakashi one more time as he studied the tree, two of his ninken circling the perimeter as Bull, the biggest of their pack, nudged her hand expectantly. She took a step, two, pausing to get one more look at their sensei before they split off for who knew how long.

The entire way to their new camping spot, she ran her forefinger and thumb nervously along the smooth, rounded surface of the tiny bell in her pocket. He'd given it to her to calm her fears, to assure her that he'd be there if he needed her. As she and the boys found suitable cover and laid themselves back down—Bull plopping his massive backside down right on Sakura's feet as she sat against a tree—she could not make sense of a Kakashi who valued the mission more than the people.

Moreover, how could she trust a Kakashi like this with the truth of herself?

He'd shouted at them to find cover, but that could've been to keep them out of his own way. He'd ensured none of them were hurt, but any injuries only would've slowed them down. And yesterday, after he'd given her the bell, he'd known her well enough to understand that her behavior was abnormal, but that was surely the mark of a man who paid attention, who was overly careful not to mess anything up.

After all, when Sasuke had asked after the mission, Kakashi had returned that it'd been compromised.

Her brows were furrowed so deeply as she thought that her head ached, not helped by how close she'd come to chakra exhaustion. Yesterday, Naruto had mentioned that both she and Sasuke had done nice things for him now. But if they'd shared their meals with him, surely a Kakashi like this would've failed them and they wouldn't be here right now?

She wasn't sure how long she spent scowling out into the inky woods. The sun didn't seem to be due to rise any time within the next hour, and Naruto was busy snoring about as loudly as the dog; with a huff she angled herself slightly, careful not to wake Bull as she plucked a pebble from the ground and chucked it at Sasuke's head.

He snapped to attention immediately and silently, turning onto his stomach until she could see the red shine of his Sharingan looking up at her. His attention upon her did wonderful things to her girlish heart, though the truest parts of her soul ached to see the stark resemblance to Izuna in his features.

I'm restless, she signed to him, keeping her movements small.

There was that hesitance again before he gave his answer. Me, too. What's gotten into you?

She bit her lip, uncertain, knowing she would need to tread carefully with her limited knowledge. About sensei...that day he gave us the bell test...

He regarded her for some time, not blinking, only watching, weighing.

When finally she decided on the right wording, she pressed on, If he's so insistent on the rules, then why did he even pass us in the first place?

But then Sasuke seemed to deflate, as if he hadn't been expecting that line of questioning. It's just as he said. If Naruto had starved, we wouldn't've had the manpower to finish the mission by ourselves.

That version of Kakashi was one she couldn't reconcile, one who saw value only in what one could offer up to the village. The core of him, she knew, was there, unchanged: his kindness unrelenting, his protectiveness bordering on feral; she could feel it within him when she'd all but flown to embrace him, could feel it in his electrified chakra mingling with her own, sustaining her.

If it was a mission she needed, something official, sanctified by the Lord Hokage himself, she would find a way. Seek the Tailed Beasts, Madara had said, and she planned to do just that—if, along the way, she could smack some sense into Kakashi, bring him back to who she knew he could be, then that would be an added bonus. That way she could tell him, confide in him, everything that'd happened and everything that'd went wrong. It felt like her only chance to be believed, to be seen.

She caught the lifting of Sasuke's pale arms as he said, almost as if trying to comfort her, I took you as all brains, but you're stronger than I thought. Quit doubting yourself. Why's it matter why he chose us, anyway? Not like he can take it back without drowning in paperwork.

Her smile was wry; he had a point, yes, that it required an excessive amount of documentation and fit for duty assessments to relinquish a genin team once they were accepted. Only, she had to wonder if perhaps the Kakashi she'd gotten this time around had no problem turning in his reports on time, let alone finishing them in the first place.

I'm not looking forward to the mountain of it we're in for after tonight, she offered instead, trying to match the mood he'd lightened.

Across the small distance that separated them, the little scoff he gave was seen rather than heard. Yeah, right. The Hokage lets you off easy every time. Girls are always conspiring together.

She pursed her lips. Perhaps she'd not been able to see his silent mouth movements as clearly as she'd thought, because she thought he'd signed, always—girls—together—scheme.

"The Hokage..." she started, keeping her voice a whisper as she signed in tandem so there was no room for further confusion. At her feet, Bull stirred, but only enough to give one loud huff before returning to his colossal snores. "You mean—Lord Third?"

Sasuke, though, narrowed his eyes in turn. His temper was the same as ever, annoyance flaring even at the smallest of things. And just so soon after he'd complimented her...! But she stuffed down her the growing mortification threatening to gnaw away at her stomach as she watched him, hearing the light tones of his twelve year-old voice,

"I don't know how you learned our language," he whispered harshly, his suspicion evident, "but it was either a senile old man, or a century-old book that was left where it shouldn't have been." Then came his hands again, making slow and distinct signs that matched each of his next words: "Girls. Together. Conspire." And as if tacking on something important before he forgot, he added, And stop using it in front of others. People will think I taught you.

There was little else she could do but stare at him. She'd seen him right, for sure, but being correct in it didn't bring any amount of that usual smugness she would sometimes feel when she shot the doubts of others clean out of orbit. Thank the gods he'd merely gone back to thinking she was a moron. In her time, Sarutobi Hiruzen had resumed his role as the Third Hokage when Lord Fourth had been killed in the same year Sakura had been born. But now?

"So you're saying...Hokage-sama..." Her voice was so small, shaking in equal parts thrilling excitement and sickening apprehension. She stopped just shy, knowing she couldn't damn well say something as idiotic as, So Hokage-sama isn't an old man well beyond his prime who looks like he could crumble to dust at any moment?

"Tch," Sasuke returned, shifting to face away from her and situate himself more comfortably beneath his traveling blanket. He was sharp, filling in gaps for her that she herself couldn't even fathom how to cross. "Yep. Kushina will let you off the hook, as always."