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Sakura stood in the middle of the expanse that was Hueco Mundo. The breeze carried grains of sand that grazed her skin before continuing their journey through the desert. The Espada swept pink locks away from her face, brushing the bone tiara across her crown out of habit. The porous surface scraping her hand. It’s a reminder of what she is.
Las Noches was off in the distance. She was far enough that her attacks wouldn’t damage the castle and Madara wouldn’t have to chastise her again. Not that she believed things would be the same from now on.
Konan had confided in her about what was to come. Sakura was prepared for what she had to accomplish.
Or so she thought
She sensed him before he saw her.
“Shinigami-san,” she greeted without turning around to face him.
Kakashi took a moment to observe her new attire. Gone were the tatters she had previously worn. Here she stood, shoulders back, white jacket with a black trim that cut off at her waist. Her hakama-like pants started at her hips and continued through to her ankles—the hems dancing around her legs.
Kakashi scratched the back of his head. He hesitated before finally arranging his façade. She may be the hollow with a mask, but out of the pair, he was the one who spent more time behind a veneer. “Ma, Sakura-chan, is that really the way we have come to greet each other after all our meetings?” His visible eye turned into a pleasant half-moon.
“No, Kakashi,” she acquiesced, “but things are not the same anymore.” There was tension in her shoulders. Kakashi kept a lid on the dread attempting to crawl up his spine.
His eye tightened at the corner, “I suppose not,” he moved to stand beside her. The perpetual crescent moon hanging in the sky illuminated her features for the Shinigami captain. His observation was cut short when bright jade eyes turned to him. Her eyes always shone the brightest in Hueco Mundo. He wondered what it was about this wasteland that made her look ethereal.
Sakura looked at him. He looked the same as always, standard silver, gravity-defying hair, reprehensible posture, and devil-may-care attitude. She saw echoes of him now. How broken he was when he lost Obito. The sacrifice of Rin. Growing up as an orphan. This was a man who was intimately familiar with pain.
She hated what she was about to do.
She has been told repeatedly that the most significant difference between the species of hollow versus a Shinigami is that the hole that is physically on her body denoted a missing heart and the absence of emotions that usually accompany the organ.
She would like to punch every individual that has told her that.
Because this anguish she was feeling was pushing her to a breaking point. Forcing her to question the decisions she made in cold calculation.
Madara would not allow failure. If she was weak now and did not follow through, then all her efforts would be for naught.
“I have an objective to complete. Tell your friends to stay out of the way.” Her frosty gaze shook him from his stupor. He figured she would have changed, but he underestimated how much.
“Sakura, whatever that mad man is offering you isn’t worth it.”
“He’s the only one that can give me the solution to my problem. And why is it up to you to decide if it’s worth it or not?” She sniffed in derision.
“You know that’s not true. With all the R & D Orochimaru is doing, I’m sure there can be an answer.”
The Espada became agitated, “How many times to I need to drill it into your head, Kakashi?! I am an Arrancar, and you are a Shinigami. The rules that apply to you are different than the rules that apply to me.”
He finally got emotion out of her, but he was now regretting it.
She ripped her jacket open. There was a perfect black hole above her left breast, the size of a fist.
Kakashi averted his eye, and she noticed. Her own eyes narrowed in anger. She hated that her objective was becoming more apparent by the second.
She crowded him. Got close enough so that he could not avoid her because she was bringing up something that he wanted to ignore. “This is what makes us different. I must fight to keep my nature from consuming me. If I let up even a moment, then I revert back to a mindless hollow reacting on instinct alone. This,” she pointed to where her heart should be, “is confining me to my roots. It is part of me and who I am.”
She straightened and zipped her jacket up again.
She saw Kakashi’s jaw clench beneath his mask. He wasn’t ready to lose another precious person. He shook his head, “No, that doesn’t have to be true. We can--”
“Kakashi,” she mutters barely above a whisper, “please stop.” Her voice was flat, but the skin across her knuckles was pulled taut. The tight binding she had across the abyss in her chest was coming undone.
She released her Zanpaktou and faced the Shinigami, her once-upon-a-time friend and confidant, but now he was a hindrance.
She refused to let anyone get in the way. Kakashi was not exempt from that.