There were many perks to once being the beloved disciple of the Fifth Hokage, and not least among them was access to classified information.
Well, not that Sakura herself was granted access; not even Shizune had that clearance, except for when Tsunade herself was too hungover to go and nab some important folder on her own. But Lady Fifth's star pupil knew just how much sake it took to get her master just drunk enough that she'd still show up to the office the next day—late as hell, naturally—and Sakura had on more than one occasion had taken advantage of this, like any fine shinobi would.
Her thirst for knowledge felt, at times, insatiable. There were things she had to know, things that ate her up inside every night she crawled into bed without answers. Tsunade, Kakashi, and even sometimes Naruto himself all kept too tight-lipped about this or that, and she'd had enough. And so on the rare few occasions where Shizune had taken the week off, Sakura took it upon herself not to stop Lady Fifth from drinking too much, and ensure that she herself was bright and early and chipper when she arrived for her shift: Tsunade was far more likely to shoo her away on some business or another if she wanted some peace and quiet.
Sakura's mind absorbed information like a sponge that'd been left in the sun. Even when her palms were sweating and her heart was pounding in anxiety for snooping through files she shouldn't, she never once hesitated before cracking them open and roving her eyes over them as fast as she could manage. The convoluted truth of the Uchiha Massacre she'd only partially uncovered, along with some of Kakashi's file that'd mostly led her to his father's tragic one, her heart unable to bear the full weight of what Team 7's sensei had gone through. She'd even read some bits here and there of the Akatsuki's many members and what had been confirmed of their origins and motivations. What she'd managed to read in full, though, were the files on the Fourth Hokage and his wife—Naruto's parents.
That they now lived was one thing, and certainly meant that the Nine-Tailed Beast's attack on Konoha either hadn't happened—and she tried not to wince that it'd been heavily suspected that an Uchiha had been responsible for it in the first place—or it had gone very differently this time around. Indeed, if Naruto's cut hadn't healed yesterday, then the Beast very likely had never been sealed inside of him at all, which meant that it remained in Uzumaki Kushina instead.
Sakura swallowed. She was unsure why her stomach was twisting itself into knots when this could only be a good thing, that one of her closest friends now had a loving family to whom he could return every night.
She spent the remainder of her time on night watch hiding her shock by pretending particular preoccupation with digging the small rocks out of her shredded knees. At her feet the enormous dog weighed her down like an anchor, but she'd seen the way the ninken could leap into action at a moment's notice. Probably he wasn't even sleeping, feigning it to try to blend in with his surroundings and ready to stand guard at a moment's notice.
She was finishing the final swipes with a small antiseptic pad from her traveling bag—she grunted for how much it stung—when day finally broke, golden, rosy rays casting themselves across a sky half-clouded. With it came Kakashi, his shoulders tight and squared in spite of the way he tried to seem casual by way of his hands in his pockets. Bull heaved all of his weight and got to his feet, tail wagging lazily as he approached the leader of their pack, who offered him a brief pat on his hard skull before giving Sakura a long look. Idly she wondered if she were in for another scolding from this harsher, more distant Kakashi.
Then, he blinked his good eye tiredly. "Good work on watch. No trouble, I assume?" When she shook her head, he took a few steps to place his foot on Naruto's shoulder to roll him over, then did the same to Sasuke. "Up, the both of you. We make for Konoha immediately. And you're to speak not a word of this to anyone but the Hokage and her council, is that clear?"
He said nothing else, and while most might have assumed this meant he was tired and agitated from being up all night handling the aftermath of a mission gone awry, she knew that was only half of the truth. It was obvious that he was poring over every detail of the night's events, trying to find the meaning of what'd happened, why the Zetsu had been staring at her, how it'd infiltrated the mission at all. But still he kept silent even as he led them back north towards the Village Hidden by Leaves, his posture rigidly on-guard and ready for a fight.
Luckily, none came. The spring day was pleasant, and even the boys bickered less than usual—though they were probably as anxious as she and Kakashi, for what'd happened. They steered clear of the topic of the attack and the miraculously-growing tree, likely knowing without really knowing that it would only be met with bitter chastisement from their sensei. And soon, well after midday but still long enough until dusk, the massive perimeter walls of the Leaf came into view, nestled among the colossal Fire Country trees and thick foliage.
The tall an gates were a welcome sight; how long had it been since she'd laid her eyes upon them? The nights before they'd marched out to war were a blur to her now—though likely that was because Ino had roped her and dozens of others into going barhopping. And she'd hardly had the time to glance back and take in the village's diminishing presence as they moved out towards certain death, her nerves like a bundle of live wires coiled within her.
And then there were her few years spent in the woods that felt more like a lifetime now, the months blending together like their own age.
As they crossed beneath the wide arch and through the open gates, her stomach tightened. Kakashi veered left, stopping at the little station manned by two chuunin that Sakura recognized. While Kakashi greeted them tiredly and tugged the logbook towards him to write the time of Team 7's return to the village, she glanced around. It was late spring, the air so pleasantly warm and full, a sweet breeze tousling the leaves on the branches high overhead. The village itself was still hidden from view, the forest only just thinning here, and she found her mouth going dry in anticipation.
Just another few minutes on the trail was everything. There was the hospital—and she nearly burst into laughter, because was she really romanticizing her seemingly endless overnight shifts where she'd sometimes pinch at her face just to stay on her feet? Somewhere, whether in the Leaf or not, were Tsunade and Shizune. There was Ino, and Sakura wondered what missteps this current versions of themselves had made in that relationship. Whatever the case, she was brimming with confidence that she could mend things much sooner this time. There was Neji, whom she'd always quietly admired from afar, especially after Sasuke had left, and there was even Rock Lee, whom she'd only come to appreciate much too late. And there were her parents, of course, her stomach giving a wild flip to think of them in particular: there were early breakfasts and nagging tuts of the tongue, there were heartfelt hugs and birthday dinners, there were heated arguments and tearful apologies—all things Sakura had been all too happy to grow out of, her first go-around.
How could she ever outgrow any of it? To feel the heat in her face as she faced off against Ino, to try and quiet her loud, thumping heart any time she tried to talk to Sasuke, the near-crippling fear she felt each night before the next mission with Team 7, to drag herself to her feet and chug down gulps of watered-down coffee loaded with sugar after an excruciating shift in the village's emergency ward—none of it could be done as Katsuyu.
They were experiences uniquely human, uniquely Sakura's.
The four of them were off the moment Kakashi stamped his seal next to the line onto which he'd written the date and time of their return, and with each step Sakura's heart ached more and more in some way she could not readily identify. There was some manner of fear, she thought, that this was too good to be true and that she'd wake from some terrible dream, facing down the harbinger of the apocalypse yet again, trapped in some endless cycle of near-death and exhausting rebirth. But despite being a shadow, a mere echo of her former glory, when she slowed her steps and shut her eyes and took in—really took in—the feel of the sunlight upon her face, the sound of the gently rustling leaves and jovial birdsong, the steady, unwavering dirt path beneath her feet, she knew that this was now a reality made in part by her hand, by her sacrifice.
And then there was something else welling in her, an excitement like a bubbling stream emboldened by snowmelt. That optimistic anticipation rolled through her, sending her running in an instant, catching up to her team and darting past them as she hurried on ahead. Behind her she could hear Naruto call out for her to wait up, and some noise of surprise from Sasuke before they both burst into full sprint. The sound of their footfalls at her back, the easy way they all seemed to function in tandem whenever there was no time to stop and think about their meaningless gripes with one another—and how easily those came to them, too—filled her heart to the brim.
They were in such synchrony that when she stopped cold, they stopped with her, not missing a beat.
Far in the distance down the long, straight main road of Konoha was the mountain range that served as its own stretch of wall around the northernmost curve of the village. Sakura squinted against the bright rays of the sun, unobstructed now by the dense tree cover, and had fixed her eyes upon the faces carved into the red rock, the likenesses of each reigning Hokage that watched over the Leaf like gods.
In the place of the severe Lord Second that she expected to see, the one looking down at her, nestled between Senjuu Hashirama and Sarutobi Hiruzen was none other than Uchiha Izuna.
Beneath her ribs, her heart clenched almost painfully. Her lips parted, a sense of awe spreading through her in waves and making the hair on her arms stand on end. Everything else until then had been things she'd had to piece together from some subtlety she'd noticed or another, exhausting enough on its own. But this, a completely different face on the Hokage's Mountain, and an Uchiha? She racked her brain, recalling the time she'd snagged the folder on the clan's failed coup that'd been the direct motivator for the massacre itself—but their outrage had been the result of injustice after injustice, not least of all that none of their clan, one half of the two founding families of the village, had not yet been named its leader.
The sculptor had captured that sleepy look about Izuna, as well as the slender, beautiful curves of his face. Though he was depicted at an older age than last she'd seen him, he could not be mistaken, especially given how long she'd spent in her old life staring at Sasuke; the resemblance was simply too great. Surely the latter was a direct descendant of the former, a great-grandson of sorts—likely he had been even in her original time, too.
Then she glanced to the right, at the face of Naruto's mother where once her husband's face had been carved. Though her expression was as serious as the other three, the sculptor for this one must have been especially talented, for there was a fierce kindness in her eyes evident even in stone. Her long, wild hair fanned out behind her, vanishing seamlessly back into the cliff.
Sakura shivered to see something tied so plainly to all she'd done, obvious to her and her alone. But the three of them had stood still for long enough; Kakashi had caught up and put each of his hands on the boys' shoulders and gave them a light shove, then nudged at the Sakura's heel with his toes.
"Meet me at the Hokage's office in an hour," he said, "with your completed reports in hand. Not half-done like some of you did the last time."
Before Sakura had a chance to ask who, exactly, he was referring to—because she would never half-ass a report...!—a voice called out,
"Afraid not, my friend!"
The four of them stopped again, turning towards the newcomer: a man with a build similar to Kakashi's, just a hair shorter, wearing the sleek, sleeveless shirt beneath the pale vest indicative of ANBU, if the white animal mask cut through with deep red patterns weren't enough of a giveaway. Upon it were two slanted slits for eyes that resembled the sharp gaze of a fox as the man slowly turned his head to regard all three of the kids, his hair the color of buttercups in summer, before settling on Kakashi.
"After being briefed by the cell that responded to your S.O.S., Lady Fourth is requesting Team 7's presence at the tower immediately."
"Is that so?" Kakashi mused rhetorically, a spark of hope barely hidden in his voice. "I'm relieved to hear it. Thank you for the notice, Captain Fox."
The man nodded once, then turned to give a too-casual peace sign to the other three before disappearing in a dazzling flash of sparks each like their own miniature sun. At her side, Naruto scoffed once, murmuring something about the guy being a show-off before the four of them carried on down the main road of Konoha.
Everything was so much the same as when she'd left it. The bustling streets, full of civilians leaving work and heading home for the day or otherwise meeting up with friends or family to mingle and grab dinner at one of the hundreds of eateries in the shopping district. The sun was low in the sky but not yet setting, dyeing the village in rich, rosy colors that made Sakura's heart soar. The smells of cooking fires and the bursting laughter of schoolchildren as they ran, chasing each other through the crowds, only surged that strange feeling within her even more.
She was home, even if she could scarcely believe it.
As they passed each block, she had to fight to keep herself from running off. There was the home of the lady who'd sold her mother Sakura's very first set of throwing stars, and here was the old man who always complimented her hair each time he'd visit the Yamanaka's flower shop to buy a bouquet for his late wife's grave. And just around the corner there, one of the closest street vendors to the main road, were the dumplings she loved more than anything in the world—and only then did she realize that she was starving, not having eaten since she and the boys' meager meal of instant noodles the night before.
A shiver racked her, to remember the Zetsu's eyes as it stared down at her with that terrible smile. Subconsciously she tightened her grip on the straps of her pack, suddenly aware that, alongside her hunger, she was exhausted. Her shoulders ached and her legs throbbed as she marched one sore foot in front of the other, approaching the Hokage's tower. The sight of the academy at its side was a nostalgic one, tainted with an anger she'd only thought to have much too late, after seeing the pointlessness of war and the trauma of so many casualties firsthand. Training children for battle, of all things...how had it once seemed so normal?
She suppressed a sigh as they went inside and checked in at the little desk in the front lobby. Each of the stairs was agony on her legs as they climbed, but she took some comfort that the boys didn't seem to be faring much better, either, dragging in comparison to both Kakashi and the spry chuunin who served as the Hokage's secretary, who ensured that the office and the woman herself were ready for Team 7's sudden appearance.
The wide office was much the same as Sakura remembered it, the musky, half-damp smell of it a familiar and staggering comfort as she took it in. It was tinged with a hint of perfume that was certainly not so familiar, so accustomed was she to Tsunade's preferred scents (and, of course, the too-sweet alcoholic undertones) that once filled the room). The overhead light that sometimes flickered off and on at irregular intervals was even the same, its electrical humming like soothing white noise.
And there at the desk was the Fourth Hokage, Naruto's mother, with her mass of brilliant red hair gathered high at the back of her head, the single tail of it cascading down her back with loose locks of it spilling over her shoulder. The forest-green flak jacket was a soothing contrast against its brightness, and her hitai-ate gleamed for a moment in the fluorescence as she lifted her head and greeted the four of them with nothing but a smile, genuine and serene.
At her side were two ANBU guards: one was the man Kakashi referred to as Captain Fox, and the other was a smaller figure, a woman with long hair so black it shone blue beneath the lights of the office. Her mask bore carved-out eyes even more severe than the Fox's, but unlike his, the nose of hers jutted out into a short, sharp point like a beak. She turned abruptly to the Hokage, leaning down to say something quietly, so short that Sakura hadn't even caught it.
But Kushina had, and she nodded once. She didn't take her eyes off of Team 7 as she addressed her guards. "Thank you both. You are dismissed." The Fox vanished again in that same pretty shimmering gold, beautiful even under the harsh, artificial lights, while the woman—Sakura thought that the mask must be a Crow or a Raven—backed herself out of the open window to flip away with marked grace. Then Kushina said, "I understand the four of you have had quite the shakeup."
Sakura blinked. A shakeup was certainly fitting as a descriptor, one she would take any minute of any day over the way Team 7's original trip into the Land of Waves had gone.
The Hokage continued, "And I'm sure your sensei has reiterated the lessons on confidentiality you all had in your last year at the academy?"
Naruto's Yup clashed with Sasuke's Of course. Kakashi, for his part, cleared his throat to silence the two of them before they could somehow begin to needle each other about it. "You are correct, Hokage-sama."
She smiled, though what she said next was grave. "The reconnaissance team recovered the bridge-builder's body—the real one—on the village outskirts. He'd been dead for about a day by that point. Unfortunately, it would seem that we cannot rule out the potential for an infiltration, of sorts." Her gaze settled on Kakashi. "Please instruct the boys on how to write a classified case report, then see them both home. I need to speak with Sakura-chan alone."
Sakura froze, an uncomfortable spotlight shone on her far too suddenly. She could hear Kakashi's small start of surprise, and glanced over just in time to see Sasuke give a roll of his eyes. Girls—together—conspire, he'd explained, which she wished were the case. But the truth of it was starting to seem like the leader of the village thought that Sakura herself was a Zetsu in disguise...! Had Kakashi mentioned her suddenly strange behavior, seen her signing with Sasuke in a language she shouldn't have known?
"Oi, Mom," said Naruto, worried, "what gives? She do something wrong or what?"
"No, it's nothing like that."
"We are a team, aren't we?" Sasuke offered, perhaps sensing the general unease that'd fallen over the room. "We shouldn't keep secrets."
"Of course, of course!" Kushina agreed, though Sakura would swear there was a muscle tightening along the woman's neck, some temper she was trying to keep under control. "It'll be up to her if she wants to disclose what we talk about. But I don't think either of you—and certainly not my Kakashi-kun—have any particular interest in girly things."
It was enough for the boys to scrunch their faces in distaste and a bit of embarrassment. They turned heel and walked out of the office like they'd done it a hundred times before. It was another few seconds before she realized, though, that their sensei hadn't budged.
"Forgive me, but..." he started, sounding a bit hesitant to be so openly defying authority—Sakura almost winced, unused to a Kakashi who would act such a way. "Isn't it highly unorthodox for a genin to be pulled in for questioning without their teacher present? She is my responsibility, after all."
Kushina's eyes narrowed, just by a margin. "Why, since taking on this team, you're as by-the-books as ever! I appreciate that you're trying to be a good influence. Always so dutiful, aren't you! But this is something important. Girl-to-girl, you know how it goes."
Kakashi turned his head slightly, glancing sidelong at Sakura through his good eye. She felt like a true rookie again, unable to read the look she saw there, except for the fact that he did not buy the Hokage's excuse for one moment. And whether or not he was trying to shield his student from suspicion and interrogation, or simply keep to following protocol, she also couldn't say. As his responsibility, any wrongdoing on her part wouldn't paint him in the best light.
"Ma'am—"
"Kakashi-kun," she reiterated, her otherwise sweet voice suddenly clipped, her smile looking like it could crack her face in half if she forced it any harder. "Out. Thank you!"
Sakura could feel her face paling. Was she about to be berated by the Hokage for something she hadn't even known she'd done? Beside her, Kakashi hesitated for only a beat longer before dipping his head in respect and turning to leave. The door fell shut behind him, the office achingly quiet as she listened to his fading footsteps as he went down the hall; she found herself straining her ears, nervous to be away from him in so unfamiliar a situation, until he was too far out of her tiny sensory range to track.
The eyes of the Fourth Hokage landed squarely on Sakura, who felt herself shrink back. But Sasuke had told her that she was on good terms with Lady Fourth, hadn't he? Maybe that would give her a leg up, save her from the older woman's wrath. Well, not wrath, but she certainly suspected something of the younger girl that felt so substantial she didn't even know where to start.
In her own preemptive defense Sakura began, "I'm—I don't know how that—"
Kushina held up her hand, her gaze softening. "Sakura-chan," she said evenly, if not laced with some measure of hesitance. She searched her face for another long moment before smiling sadly and saying, "You remember now. I can see it in your eyes."
It was as if the air was blown clean from Sakura's lungs. The quiet hum of the electric lights overhead cut out, unheard in her ears for her initial confusion that was rapidly giving way to mounting shock. Her fingertips felt numb, her knees suddenly weak. Surely she'd somehow misheard, otherwise Kushina was simply talking about something else that could easily be mistaken. One look, however, into her eyes made it clear that they were on the same page.
Kushina knew.
"I'm—" Sakura tried, because something felt expected of her, some acknowledgment or thanks or the hundreds of questions she'd had about her past and her very existence that had so very conveniently flown out of her head here and now...! "How do you—?"
But the woman was already on her feet and rounding the desk to pull Sakura in for a colossal bear-hug. Her strong arms wrapped around Sakura's neck as she cried out,
"You poor thing! My poor baby!" Pulling back, she gripped Sakura's shoulders and studied her again, reaching up to smooth back the hairs that'd fallen loose from the bun atop the younger girl's head. "Wherever it is you've come from, it's a world much harsher than this one. You look like you've seen too much for someone so young."
To have an ally in this new time, especially the Hokage herself, was almost too good to be true. Sakura looked into her eyes and for the life of her, could not find any deception in them, no trace that this was somehow Kaguya's doing, or the Zetsu's.
"I thought you suspected I was an impostor," she breathed out finally, and though the fear of Kushina's temper had left her, it was replaced by this new information. She felt lightheaded and almost dizzy, but Lady Fourth missed not a beat, leading her around to plop her in the big office chair while she herself leaned against the desk.
"I'm sorry! Didn't mean to give you such a scare," she said, flashing a friendly, toothy grin. "When we got word of what'd happened with the Zetsu, I had my suspicions then. And when Lieutenant Crow confirmed that you're gathering chakra up to your forehead"—she reached out and enthusiastically took one of Sakura's hands in hers—"oh, I've been waiting for this moment for so long!"
"So you know why the Zetsu want to kill me?"
"I only know what my great-aunt told me," she admitted, "when I was just a girl. Said to await the incarnate of the Uzumaki clan's original patron sage, a young woman with pink hair bearing a yin seal on her forehead. When I first saw you at the academy, I just about screamed! But, oh, that was years ago now. You were so young, and of course didn't have a seal or seem to know anything beyond the life you'd been living here in Konoha. I've had plenty of doubts since then."
"Oh," Sakura murmured, "I'm so sorry I kept you waiting—"
"Nonsense!" Kushina waved her hand in front of her face as if fanning away a cloud of dust. "You've been a good friend to my Naruto, and to Sasuke-kun, too. And I've always wanted a daughter, you know!
"As for the Zetsu..." she went on, pausing to hum thoughtfully. "They've been little more than pests, until now. The aunt I spoke of, she'd warned me about them, too, that they want to kill you and the other sages. Something about making sure their own mother's rebirth is a done-deal. Is that right?"
Sakura nodded slowly, her head starting to hurt as she kept careful track of all that was said, hoping not to get anything wrong. With her memory still a bit foggy at best, she couldn't risk verifying anything in error. "Yes, that's right. The shizen energy inherent in the sages is the counterbalance to chakra. It's a threat to the Zetsu, and to—Kaguya." Speaking the name sent a shiver up her spine.
Kushina, too, nodded. "They can also siphon it. We're thinking they need only a tiny bit of it to fully replicate anyone they—"
"Yeah!" Sakura confirmed eagerly. "In my original time, they fooled even our best sensory-types. You have to trick them to be able to tell the difference."
"Well, that explains how one so seamlessly replaced the original man from your mission. And have they any particular weaknesses?" the Hokage asked, leaning in, an excitement in her that was almost infectious.
"Sure," replied Sakura easily. "Just hit 'em hard enough."
Kushina's laugh was startlingly loud, bordering on obtrusive—but so unique and so genuine that the younger girl couldn't help but smile. "Oh, yes, that isn't the Sakura-chan I've gotten to know over the years. Welcome back to the land of the conscious, Lady Katsuyu."
Sakura's smile soured, just a bit. She certainly didn't feel like a sage, let alone one of the original protectors of the entire world. "Just Sakura is fine."
"Well then, Just Sakura, it looks like you've still got a long road ahead of you. Tell me what you need, and I'll do what I can to make it happen."
She regarded Lady Fourth again, all of her brimming strength and bubbling confidence held proud in that otherwise slight frame. Her eyes shone goodnaturedly, her smile kind, even in spite of her fiery hair that had surely struck fear into the hearts of anyone who crossed her.
And what did she need, exactly? Navigating the differences of this Konoha, of this world, was one thing, and the sorry state of her body, stamina, and reserves were another entirely. And further still, the Zetsu's intentions, the looming threat of Kaguya's resurrection—both compounded with Sakura's urgency to find and enter her forest home, to ensure Okojo's safety, to know if, somehow, Madara had managed to cheat death just as he'd claimed to've done in her original time. When she'd heard him speaking to her, seen the both of them, through that mysterious tree that'd sprung from the Zetsu's body, she'd known somehow that she was witnessing a message from the past.
But even so... "My husband told me to seek the Tailed Beasts." She gave Kushina a pointed look. "Is that something you can help me out with?"
A look of slight bemusement came over the Hokage, likely at the image of a preteen girl speaking so nonchalantly about her husband. "Auntie did say you'd be asking about that. But I'm sorry, Sakura-chan, I'm under strict orders: as long as I'm the host of the Nine-Tailed Beast, you are not to meddle in their affairs."
"Meddle?!" Sakura repeated, trying to keep herself from gawking. Then she pursed her lips as she fought her budding frustration. "Well, that's all I could make of what Madara was trying to tell me. It's the only lead I really have." Things like lean on your friends and cryptic talk of shadows and old men could mean any number of things.
"The Beasts are safe," she offered gently. "Lord Madara and my aunt saw to that. When you can, you should read some of their escapades—though most of it is tucked away in our section of highly-classified files..."
Well, Sakura had no issue worming her way there, though it seemed the older woman would be willing to grant her access regardless. And besides, she'd only mentioned her own Beast, safely sealed inside of her own body. Madara had spoken of Gyuuki, the Eight-Tails, and certainly if his host agreed to speak with Sakura, there was nothing any Kage could do about it.
"Then I'll need to go back to the Shikkotsu Woods," she said. "Where I was born."
"The heart of Fire Country," Kushina mused, "the forest within the forest. It's not a safe journey, even less so now. The deep woods are usually patrolled by those Zetsu creatures, and I can only imagine it's crawling with them after what happened last night."
Sakura pursed her lips, her brows furrowed as her frustration grew.
Lady Fourth reached out to squeeze her shoulder in sympathy. "I know you don't have much of a choice. I'd escort you personally if I could, but I'm about to be as busy as I've ever been. Give me a few days. It'll take some time to pull all the strings, but I can get Team 7 out of the village on official business...quite near your woods, if you catch my drift.
"Now!" She clapped her hands together, the sharp sound startling. "You've had an eventful few days, haven't you? I'll reach back out in a few days, so go on back home. Wash up, get some sleep." She was even gracious enough to give a brief set of directions, an observant shinobi—for which Sakura was grateful, because it seemed like home was in a very different location than last time. The last thing she needed was to waltz into the wrong house.
Standing on her weary feet, she stretched and regarded the Hokage one last time. "Thank you. I really, really mean it." They embraced again, and as she rounded the desk to make for the door. "Well, I don't wanna keep my parents waiting."
Kushina turned her head, her gathered hair spilling over her shoulder. She looked confused again, her brows furrowed. The shift in mood was enough to stop the younger girl entirely.
"Your parents?" Something in her eyes deepened, her face falling and a small, almost ragged gasp escaping her lips. Behind her, the light flickered off and on like a sputtering heartbeat. "Oh. Oh, honey..."
If the depths of Sakura's exhaustion could scarcely be conveyed before, she was certain that now she'd tipped over some edge from which one couldn't return. She could feel her features even out into an expressionless mask, her vision glossing over with tears completely against her will as her brain put the pieces together all on its own. Regardless of how well she and the Fourth Hokage had gotten along in the time before her true consciousness had landed in this body, Kushina now seemed like little more than a stranger wearing standard-issue Leaf fatigues, someone who'd been only a ghost, once.
A ghost who now lived, and who was about to tell her that her own parents had not.
She was certain the older woman had shifted to her feet to go in for another hug, one of those enormous, too-tight squeezes that would, under other circumstances, be a perfectly adequate salve to most any emotional wound. But this...?
Sakura was racing down the halls of the tower before she even realized she'd moved. The chuunin secretary that'd led Team 7 inside yelped as he was forced to leap back and press himself against the wall to avoid a head-on collision. She wiped at her face, trying not to burst into tears in so busy a place and make an utter spectacle of herself.
Night had fallen over the village in the time she'd spent in the office, and she burst from the tower to a dark sky covered by clouds. It seemed altogether far too vast and closing down upon her both at once, her mind struggling against what she'd just been told. Some passing villagers, both civilian and shinobi both, glanced at her as she stood there with her hair half-falling out of the bun she'd tied it in hours and hours ago, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed, eyes stinging with tears.
Movement in her peripheral made her jump. The lieutenant from the Hokage's office—the Crow, she'd been called—had taken a step towards her. Likely the woman had been waiting at the main doors as some sort of escort, but the last thing Sakura wanted was another tiring conversation with a person she didn't truly know. She was tired, so damned tired, and though she'd been alone in the woods for what was beginning to seem like millennia, all she wanted now was somewhere nobody would bother her.
She bolted again, her entire frame rattling with each of her pounding footfalls. Had she more of her strength, regained more of her expertise in her child's body, she would've taken to the rooftops, leaping from them unseen by the village at large with the wind tearing through her hair.
It hadn't been her intention to go to the cemetery, but when the slab of gleaming, obsidian stone of the cenotaph appeared over the dark horizon, she skidded to a halt, her stomach in knots, heart like a gaping hole at the center of her. Her mind was assailed with a sour memory from her other life, winding her as she let it wash over her: Kakashi standing at this very spot in the rain, unresponsive to all of her attempts to rouse him and bring him back home; his clothes and hair had been soaked, and the cold he'd suffered from afterwards had him bedridden for days.
In spite of their shared profession, Sakura had not known much in the way of loss, not beyond Sasuke's escape. Oh, she had seen death. At the hospital, when a nin had been dragged in by their teammates much too late to be saved; Pein's attack on the Leaf, the horror of total destruction, the despair and the hopelessness that'd all been undone as if by so little as the snapping of his fingers; and the Fourth War, of course, that'd taken all of her worst expectations and magnified them to a degree she hadn't thought possible.
But nothing like what Kaka-sensei had endured. A mother he never knew, a father who'd taken his own life, being the last remaining survivor of both his family and his shinobi squad. It was no wonder, after she'd discovered enough of his truth to really begin to decipher him in a real capacity, that he was always late, that he could so often be caught spacing out whenever they were off-duty, left to their own devices. It was no wonder that he hated the hospital, a place from which he could not easily escape, forced to lie in a bed and be alone with his memories.
At least at the cemetery, there were people who'd once loved him. She had never understood then as she suddenly did now: he blamed himself for all of it.
As Sakura walked through the symmetrical gravestones sunken into the lush, green grass, she knew that what she'd done would never have been without consequence. To unravel the threads of time and meddle—to use the word she'd only just scoffed at—in the past, all for the sake of the future...it had never been without its risks, she knew. She reached the cenotaph and shut her eyes, tears streaming down her face as she took in a shuddering breath and reached out her hand to touch the cool stone.
She had undone Kaguya's resurrection, saving the fate of humanity and sages alike. She had saved Madara and as many of his brothers as she could. She had given Naruto back his parents and kept the crushing burden of the Nine-Tailed Beast from him in turn. And she'd given the Uchiha all they'd felt cheated of before, Izuna's face carved proudly upon the mountain, watching over the village even in death.
The voice of the Great White Snake echoed in her ears, a sardonic phantom. You did what you set out to do, got what you asked for. Who are you to complain, to be an orphan girl now? And wouldn't she be right, her mythical aunt who had tried to warn her? In her ears she could hear her own worlds hurdling back at herself, berating Naruto for his lack of proper parenting and offending Sasuke in turn.
Grief overwhelmed her in waves, her tears flowing all the while. She sunk down to her knees and held her head in her hands, allowing herself all of it, holding nothing back. A migraine, fueled by her hunger, exhaustion, and tension, bloomed just behind her eyes, her temples throbbing in time with her pulse. And though she had never been a pretty crier, her running nose and puffy eyes were made all the worse when accented by the dried sweat of travel clinging to her skin and clothes, her hair nearly damp with grease as she pulled it from its tie and let it fall all around her, her shoes and nailbeds lined with dirt.
There was a part of her that was convinced none of this was worth it, that she'd give it all back just for the chance to wearily open her front door and hear her mother nag her about the way she dropped her travel bag on the genkan, the way her father would scoop her up in his arms in greeting even as she would shriek about how filthy she was, mortified. But he had never cared, just as her mother would always throw the strap of the bag over her own shoulder and haul it upstairs; by the time Sakura had finished her shower and subsequent bath, the dirty clothes had already been picked from her things and taken down to be washed.
"Madara," she said, a half-whimper, her voice nearly shot. She took in a steadying breath, wiping at her nose. Afraid to speak it out loud, she swallowed and thought, What if I don't know what I'm doing, after all?
Though it strained her neck and sent a fresh wave of pain to her head, she looked up at the cenotaph, eager to set aside the worst of her anguish and search the names. The list here was shorter than the one she'd once known—and that, at least, was some comfort, that those whose bodies were unrecoverable were fewer, the number of families who would spend the rest of their years wondering How and Why mercifully lessened. Her parents' names were nowhere to be found, and so she hauled herself to her aching feet and began her careful comb through the headstones, only made more difficult by the dark, cloudy night.
After some length of time she could barely discern, an hour or more—without even the sliver of light the crescent moon would offer, she had no way to tell, her sorrow making the passage of time a muddy thing—she found them. It had been a site she passed over once before, ignoring it because of the just-wilted flowers sitting at the base of the stone. Whoever had placed it there, she wondered if she would ever know. Perhaps any friends of the Haruno family would make themselves known to her in the coming weeks.
She plopped onto the grass, all cried out, and studied the grave her mother and father shared. They had died twelve years ago, on the twenty-eighth day of the third month: the day of her birth, and Sakura took in a quivering breath at that, feeling a faint murmuring somewhere inside of her, that thrum of the earth that had shaken her in her most life-changing moments. And though she considered herself a poor, watered-down imitation of all that she'd once been...
The late spring night was cool, dew coating the grass upon which she sat, the dirt beneath it teeming with both unseen life and unspeakable death. Worms and ants and beetles all went about their business, happily making their homes among corpses and caskets. The air was balmy, the wind nothing but a gentle breeze. Somewhere in the forest treeline surrounding the perimeter of the cemetery were the last of the blossoming flowers, their scents thick as they clung to their sturdy wooden branches, nestled safely among the lush green leaves. And though the moon behind the clouds was not yet in her preferred phase, as she sat here with her eyes closed and her fingers spreading out widely along the damp earth, she could feel the pulse that ran through everything, the stuff of stars, coursing through her.
On her next exhale, for a lightning-quick fraction of a moment, she was one with it all. The decaying matter of those hundreds upon hundreds of bodies was felt within her, in every smallest nook of her hands and feet and all along her wrists, her ankles, her knees and elbows, a cloying in her throat. With a terrible sputter in her heart, she reigned herself in as best she could, pulling in that trembling wave of oneness and centering it on the small grave before her. The magnitude of her power made her head spin, but feeling the bones of her parents grounded her enough to grit her teeth through the pain of it.
They were a warmth against her skin, soothing her troubled mind as much as they stirred the stormclouds of it. It was a closure, wasn't it, if nothing else? They had been given funerary rites, buried with dignity and compassion. It should've helped more, she thought, but she only felt as if run through with a knife over and over, leaving her little more than ribbons pooling on the grave.
"Glad you're both resting easy," she said, hot tears pooling and falling again. Her parents had prayed to her, to the Great Slug Sage. Prayed for a child, healthy and happy. Her father had wanted her to be as strong-willed and enduring as her mother, who in turn wanted a child with his good nature and enormous heart. The Lady Katsuyu had fallen in love with them, in a way. She had let them care for her and cared for them in turn, as best as a young girl could. "You—always did have each other's backs...and mine..."
Her body could handle no more. The world spun as she fell, top-heavy, to the ground. Just as her eyelids fell closed she saw that where her tears had fallen upon the blades of grass, they had burnt away, small half-circles along their edges or round holes through their centers. She curled inward as if she were merely sleeping between her parents, their futon too full for comfort—and yet it was nothing any of them would ever think to complain of.
That night, Sakura dreamed of floating in a blank void, vast and achingly hollow, her body under the careful guard of a single, pudgy slug no bigger than the slender expanse of her arm.