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Chapter Text

  The silence settled and spread like molasses, seeping around the slumped figures and filling the cracks and corners of the small hospital room. The blinds were drawn, leaving only thin bars of evening sunlight to fall across the somber faces of the three older men in the room and the sleeping child whose bed they surrounded. The small boy’s blond hair was matted and streaked in mud-brown blood, still sticky. His face, hands, and chest sported severe burns, raw and grisly. But most important were the three dark stripes that adorned each of his cheeks and the claw-like nails at the ends of his red fingers. Marks of the monster they’d tried to hide. 

  A decision had to be made. They knew this, and yet the silence lingered in the air. The light slipping through the blinds turned golden, sienna, then finally faded to the grays of night. Minutes passed before the largest of the men stood and flicked on the fluorescent hospital lights. He remained there, his back to the others, hunched shoulders and haunted eyes, looking much older than his 38 years in the harsh white light. 

  “Jiraiya,” called the small, graying man in the voluminous white and red robes, which hung off of his hollowed features. His voice was dusty with age and regret, and yet his dark eyes burned. Jiraiya turned, calloused hand trailing off of the light switch to hang limp at his side, and looked his teacher in the eyes. Hiruzen looked away. The third man moved for the first time, uncrossing his hands in his lap and straightening his back. 

  “I understand your feelings,” he said, brow creased, “my own son is only six himself. Nevertheless, you must do what is best for the village. No matter how hard.” 

  Jiraiya swiveled, fist clenched and eyes narrowed. “Shikaku! You-” 

  Hiruzen held up a creased brown hand, stopping Jiraiya short. “Enough, Jiraiya.” He sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Shikaku is right. We can’t ignore what’s happened tonight.” 

  Jiraiya’s nostrils flared and a slight shimmer of chakra flickered into being around him as he took a step forward. “Naruto is not a threat,” he said, voice even, but only barely. “The seal will hold.”

  “And what proof do you have of that?” Shikaku asked with disdain. “Especially after tonight-” He stopped himself, noting the menacing flicker in Jiraiya’s eyes, and re-crossed his hands. 

  Hiruzen sighed again, looking between his two most trusted advisors and friends. “Jiraiya, you must admit that tonight’s events have cast things in a new light. I love Naruto like a grandson, but there is no guarantee that something like this won’t happen again.”

  “And what do you suggest we do?” Jiraiya exploded, chakra rippling across the room. “Will you lock him up? Kill him? Give him to Danzo to be turned into a living weapon? I-”

  “It brings me no pleasure,” Shikaku cut in. “You know I was close with Minato. I would never want to hurt Naruto. But his condition is unpredictable and dangerous. You, of all people, should know.” Shikaku nodded at the bandages around Jiraiya’s stomach, which hid a blistering gash. Jiraiya scowled darkly.

  “Jiraiya, there is a solution to all this,” Hiruzen said, leaning forward in his chair and meeting Jiraiya’s glare. “If you took Naruto with you out of the village, he and the village would both be safe.”

  Jiraiya’s glare faltered, replaced with the look of a cornered rabbit. “Sensei, you know I can’t-”

  “Oh? Can’t you, Jiraiya? The boy is itching to be trained. And to be loved. He needs you.”

  “I can’t! I have the spy network! I- I take S-rank missions!” Jiraiya waved his hands in an exaggerated manner, backing slowly away. 

  “Jiraiya,” Hiruzen said flatly, and Jiraiya deflated immediately.

  “I’m sorry Sensei. But I just, you know I can’t, not yet.”

  “Very well,” said Hiruzen, leaning back in his chair, “but then you will have to accept whatever decision Shikaku and I reach. You’ve made your choice, and we will make ours.”

  Jiraiya spluttered, staring in disbelief at his teacher.

  Shikaku huffed and slumped back in his chair, his arms falling back over the armrests. “We could take care of the boy, Hokage-sama. In ANBU, I mean. I know Kakashi and Yugao have a soft spot for the kid. We could train him and keep an eye on him, keep him away from the villagers.”

  Hiruzen smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. I think that’s for the best, Shikaku. I’ll leave him to you.”

  Shikaku bowed his head solemnly. “It is an honor, Hokage-sama.”

  The silence returned as the three men turned to look at Naruto’s limp form, the burns already healing and disappearing. He looked pasty and gaunt in the hospital lighting, hardly alive, and Jiraiya felt his stomach twist. 

  “I wonder how many scars he would have, if it weren’t for that super-healing of his,” Jiraiya whispered, rubbing the back of Naruto’s hand gently. The other men nodded, looking intently at the boy. 

  “We’ll never know,” said Hiruzen, “we can only try and give him a life that will protect him from any more.”

  Jiraiya felt the bile rising into his throat. He was abandoning his godson, selfishly, horribly, when he was needed most. 

  “Jiraiya.” Hiruzen placed a warm hand on Jiraiya’s shoulder, reassuring and steady. “I know you’re hurting, we all are. Minato was a dear friend and a great man. But you can’t mope forever. Naruto will need you.”

  Jiraiya nodded, feeling tears well in his eyes. “I’ll come back, I promise. Just give me some time.”

  “Of course, my boy.” Hiruzen smiled softly, before moving to switch off the light and exit the room, followed by Shikaku and Jiraiya. The door clicked shut sharply, a seal of protection lighting up as it was activated. Inside the room, Naruto’s burns were all but completely healed, leaving no scar, no trace. 

Chapter Text

Sakura had been seated before her vanity for nearly two hours by the time the first rays of soft morning sunlight filtered through her pale-pink cotton curtains, bathing her in rosy light. She gently placed down the hairbrush she’d been fiddling with and stood to draw open the curtains so she could survey the street outside her house for a few minutes, as she did every day. The cobbled streets were still sparsely populated, as the stores began to open their shutters. Her house stood opposite a bakery, and each morning the fragrance of warm butter and fruit compote wafted up to her window, the smell filling her room and drawing her in as if it were a siren song. 

“Sakura!” Her mother’s call came as always, loud and crisp, 10 minutes after dawn. 

“Nearly ready, Mother!” Sakura replied on instinct, moving hastily back towards the vanity. She brushed some powder over the heavy bags under her eyes and some rouge onto her lips, then ran the brush through her long, silky pink hair. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that she did not look as though she’d been awake since 3 am, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. Her mother, Mebuki, came through the door seconds later, posture straight and stiff and eyes roaming over Sakura’s figure in a practiced manner. 

“Good morning, dear,” she stated, voice sugary, “smile.”

Sakura did as she was told, pulling her lips back in her best parody of a smile. Her mother frowned. 

“You still can’t even smile properly, Sakura.” Mebuki’s voice remained even, though Sakura knew her well enough to feel the disappointment laced through it in her bones. 

“I’ve been practicing,” she whispered, glancing at the small antique mirror above the vanity. Mebuki sighed. In a calculated motion, she grabbed Sakura’s upper arm, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to leave a bruise, and guided her back to the stool. 

“Sit,” she ordered, and Sakura lowered herself onto the stool, wincing at her mother’s continuous grip on her shoulder. 

“Now, let’s fix this hair of yours, yes?” Mebuki picked up the wooden brush her daughter had discarded and began to methodically detangle the lengths of Sakura’s hair. Sakura remained as still as possible, focusing on her breathing, circulating chakra to her scalp to ease the sharp stabs of pain from her mother’s brushing. She had long grown used to the tedium of her morning routine. 

After Mebuki released the tips of her hair and stepped away from her to clean the brush over the trash can, Sakura pulled her hitai-ate from the vanity’s top drawer and went to tie it carefully around her head, in place of the red ribbon she’d received from Ino all those years ago. Her hand was caught by her mother’s slim, bony fingers and turned over. The older woman’s nails dug into the soft flesh of Sakura’s wrist, and the pink-haired girl had to bite her tongue to keep from squealing. 

“What have we discussed about callouses, Sakura?” A chill spread from Sakura’s stomach as she remembered the forbidden callouses adorning her hands, the product of hours of weapons training in preparation for her genin exam. She’d completely forgotten to hide them. “Sakura,” her mother repeated, pushing her nails in a little further. 

This time, Sakura couldn’t prevent her squeak of pain, wriggling in her mother’s vice grip. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she choked out, going still and relaxing all her muscles in an attempt to lessen the pain. “I needed to train in order to pass. I wouldn’t have been able to graduate if I hadn’t trained at all and-”

Abruptly, Mebuki dropped Sakura, and the petite genin stooped to the floor, clutching her bleeding wrist. “I’ve told you before why I don’t think you’re cut out to be a kunoichi, Sakura. Still, I’ve played along with your whims for 4 years, and I’m growing tired of your excuses.” Mebuki picked up the red hitai-ate, fingering the cold metal. “I was hopeful when you mentioned that boy, Sasuke, but it’s been 3 years and nothing has changed. Then you go getting callouses and ruining your complexion.” 

Sakura stiffened, hands flying to cover her cheeks. Mebuki scoffed. “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice?” she sneered, “Sakura, you’re better than this. Now,” She grabbed Sakura’s arm again and turned it over, green chakra flickering to life around her free hand. In seconds, the bleeding from the nail marks stopped and the small red crescents in Sakura’s otherwise perfect, creamy skin knitted themselves back together, leaving no trace. “pull yourself together. We’re going to the Academy early to apologize to Iruka. And to return this.” She dangled the gleaming hitai-ate above her daughter’s head, the long strip of red fabric fluttering slightly in the breeze from Sakura’s open window. Tears welled in the young girl's eyes, watching the light glinting off of the polished metal and the shifting of the dark blue shadows that filled the leaf symbol engraved in the metal plate’s center. 

“Mother, please,” she began shakily, struggling to keep her voice even and composed. She knew emotions would not win her mother over. “Give me another chance. There isn’t a better boy for me than Sasuke-kun. I’ll win him over, I promise. I’ve even gotten onto the same team as him.” Her fingers trembled, but she kept her eyes trained on her mother’s cold gray ones, hoping to stare her mother into agreement. She knew such a thing was impossible. Mebuki’s gaze remained hard, closed. “You were a kunoichi, Mother. And you still married Dad,” Sakura spat out in a desperate effort, pushing herself onto her feet. She maintained eye contact, gaze burning through her mother’s ice. The middle-aged woman paused, wrinkles deepening into a frown. 

“I suppose that’s true. Fine.” Sakura’s eyes widened and a smile, a real one, spread across her face. 

“I’ll make sure you don’t regret this, Mother,” Sakura said, taking her hitai-ate from her mother’s extended hand excitedly. 

Mebuki’s mouth twisted into a sadistic smirk. “Oh, dear child, this is not something to celebrate. I guarantee you won’t last in that world. Within a month, you’ll be running back to me, tears in your eyes, begging me to save you from the Hell you’ve gotten yourself into.” Sakura’s expression fell, her grip on her hitai-ate tightening. She wanted to scream, to kick and bite, to somehow show her mother how wrong she was. 

‘Do it! Fight back, Sakura, you weakling,’ goaded the bloodthirsty voice in her head, the one who’d never liked her mother. She remained as still as a doll. 

“Don’t worry,” Mebuki continued, “I’ll always be here for you, my Sakura. Now, chop-chop. Get changed and get out of here. We can’t have you showing up late on your first day as a professional. First impressions are everything, dear.” With that, Sakura was left alone in her sunlit room, feeling unnaturally cold. Shaking the feeling, she tied her hitai-ate firmly around her head, gave herself one more glance in the mirror, and descended the stairs into the dining room. 

“Naruto,” a familiar muffled voice called from the doorway. The blond boy’s head whipped up from where he had been hunched over a small wooden desk, working intently. He took in the black-clad figure with the white ceramic mask, two red stripes painted on each cheek. 

“Inu,” he greeted, shock evident in his voice. “What’re you doing here? It’s been a while.”

A low chuckle emanated from beneath the mask’s short snout. “Have you forgotten what day it is, by any chance?” 

Naruto shot up from his seat immediately, knocking the chair to the floor. “That’s right! Graduation! Gah, how could I forget?!” His eyes swept around the room, taking stock of his necessary belongings, before landing on the clothes he had prepared the night before and subsequently snapping to his bright orange frog-patterned pajamas. “Ack!”

Inu remained casually leaned against the door frame, but his shoulders shook with poorly-suppressed mirth.

“What are you still doing here, weirdo,” Naruto muttered, face heating from embarrassment. How undignified of him, a future Hokage caught in childish pajamas as late as 9 am. 

Inu nodded respectfully, straightening from his relaxed posture. “I’ll give you some privacy to get ready then. You have 10 minutes.” As suddenly as he had arrived, Inu blinked out of existence. Naruto sighed. Moving quickly around the small, windowless room that had been his home for nearly 7 years, he gathered his tools and necessary documents, slipped them into a canvas pack, and changed his clothes. The offensive pajamas were thrown unceremoniously into the trash can tucked under the cramped desk, exchanged for simple black and gray shinobi attire and a baggy rust-colored vest. He grabbed his black-clothed hitai-ate from where it had been neatly folded on his dresser and tied it reverently around his head, giving it a quick shake to test the knot. It held, and he took a second to bask in the cold weight of the metal plate against his forehead before making his way toward the door. 

As he was leaving, he paused, eyes lingering on the meager spattering of posters on the wall and the obnoxiously orange bedsheets, the few touches of personality he was allowed in the militaristic ANBU barracks. He hadn’t expected to feel sentimental about leaving this place behind, had in fact been looking forward to the day he would acquire his freedom for as long as he could remember. Now, though, he was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that this was the only place he had to call home. 

“You’re crying, kid,” Inu remarked, voice void of emotion. Naruto’s eyes flicked to the man as he appeared at the end of the hall, the edges of his vision blurred from the tears he hadn’t noticed. Immediately, his lips pulled into a broad, toothy grin, his hands clasping behind his head automatically. 

“No worries, sensei. I’m just crying of relief at finally getting to leave this stuffy place behind!” Hurriedly, Naruto marched to the end of the hall, not allowing himself another glance back. Inu hesitated before joining the shrimpy blond, allowing his posture to shift to something more casual once again. 

“So, my cute little student is excited to get out into the big wide world?” he questioned. Naruto could hear the smug grin in his voice. 

“I’m a shinobi now, so you don’t get to patronize me,” Naruto retorted as they exited the underground barracks, squinting as the light hit his sensitive eyes. A quiet string of curses slipped past his lips as he shaded his eyes with a hand and tried to adjust to the vibrance of the world around him. It had been at least two weeks since he’d last left the compound, and his eyes had fully adjusted to the dim artificial lighting. 

“I can patronize you as much as I want,” Inu said haughtily, ruffling Naruto’s hair. The disgruntled genin simply muttered a couple of rude things under his breath as they continued down the dirt path toward the heart of the village. 

They reached the Academy just minutes before the time marked on the calendar, though Inu seemed completely unperturbed. He ruffled Naruto’s hair again, much to the boy’s chagrin, before giving him a gentle shove through the classroom doors. 

Naruto stared in awe at the rows of benches and the wide windows that lined the far wall of the classroom, at the posters and quotes that plastered the remaining wall space, and at the plethora of young shinobi that occupied the room. Without warning, a heavy fear coiled in his stomach, and he turned back to Inu, but the ANBU was already nowhere to be seen. Naruto froze, his feet refusing to listen to his desire to move. His eyes jumped from person to person, cycling through the 20 or so of them at least 3 times before fixating on the ceiling. He tried desperately to get control of his breathing and his body, attempting futilely to force his mind away from the idea of all those eyes staring at him. 20 students would be 40 eyes, all pointed at him, judging him. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen you before,” one boy, a large one with ginger hair, called from the second-to-last row. Naruto’s head snapped up, fast enough to leave him slightly dizzy, and his eyes locked onto the boy’s odd hat. It looked vaguely like a pair of underwear and was decidedly weird, and so much easier to look at than the boy’s face. 

“Who are you?” Underwear-Head asked, voice devoid of any malice. Still, Naruto’s voice stuck in his throat, nothing listening to what he wanted it to do. 

“Are you alright?” the boy called, this time with worry seeping into his voice. With great effort, Naruto nodded and immediately looked away from the boy. Thankful his body was listening to his commands again, for the time being, he hurried towards the first open seat he saw, an aisle seat on the third row. It was only after he sat down that he noticed the scowl etched into the delicate features of the dark-haired boy seated next to him. A shiver ran up his spine, a different type of fear from the paralysis he’d experienced in the doorway. ‘Bloodlust,’ he realized. 

Before he could think of an excuse to switch seats without offending the intimidating boy beside him, the classroom door slid open once again and two kunoichi crashed through it, shoving at each other's faces. They pulled the attention of the entire class, stepping on each other's toes and pulling each other’s hair, all the while screaming incomprehensibly. Naruto couldn’t help but stare slack-jawed at the display of unbridled ferocity. After a good 30 seconds, the blonde pulled away, giving the shorter pink-haired girl a surreptitious once-over before scanning the room, her eyes eventually zeroing in on Naruto. She stalked towards him menacingly, Pink-Girl in tow. Subconsciously, Naruto tensed up and shrunk in his seat, tracking the approach of the two girls fearfully. His fear was unfounded because as the girls approached, their expressions softened and their eyes lit up, all anger draining from their postures in seconds. It was, quite honestly, impressive. 

“Sasuke-kun!” the blonde called, voice sugary-sweet. Naruto glanced at the pale boy seated next to him. The boy’s expression remained stoic, though his eyes shifted to the two kunoichi. 

“Sasuke-kun, can we sit here?” the pink-haired one asked, fluttering her eyelashes at the boy Naruto assumed was Sasuke. Sasuke simply grunted, his eyes drifting back to the window. As Pink-Girl went to sit down, her eyes finally landed on Naruto’s hunched form, and she jumped back, arms flailing comically. 

“And you are?” she accused, hands on hips and eyebrows drawn together in a disapproving frown. Naruto flinched, the heavy feeling returning to his limbs and throat. He stared at her, eyes wide, unable to make a sound. His hands clenched at his sides, legs rising to guard his torso, the pounding of his heart especially pronounced in the silence that surrounded him. It felt like the ticking of a clock, mocking him. Seconds passed before he registered pain in his palms, his nails digging slightly into the skin. He immediately released the fists and sat up straighter, willing his brain to let him speak. 

“Hi,” he finally choked out, voice higher and louder than he would’ve liked. He took a deep breath and committed, spreading his lips into an uncomfortably wide grin. “I’m Uzumaki Naruto, future Hokage of Konoha, ttebayo!” he announced, pointing with his thumb to his puffed-out chest. Pink-Girl jumped at the volume with which he’d spoken, eyes flickering to Sasuke with a look of concern. Sasuke remained disinterested and unbothered, which Naruto was beginning to think was his base state of existence. 

“Shh, no need to scream in my face,” the girl admonished, pretty sage-green eyes clouded with irritation. Naruto immediately deflated, his body stiffening once again. He kept the practiced grin plastered over his face, fixing his eyes on the point between her eyebrows. 

“Ehehe, sorry,” he laughed awkwardly, one hand rising to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m Haruno Sakura, by the way,” Pink-Girl - Sakura - said extending a hand towards him. He stared at the offered hand for a few awkward seconds before he realized she wanted him to shake it. He wiped his hand on his vest before taking hers, giving it a quick shake, and stuffing his hands into his vest pockets. Sakura smiled awkwardly, before turning to the blonde girl. 

“Let’s go find seats, Ino. Sensei should be here soon.” 

They quickly slid into an empty bench two rows up, and Naruto turned his gaze back to the desk in front of him. It was covered in roughly-scratched names and flowers and rude phrases, along with a variety of other blemishes and scrapes in the varnish. Naruto pulled out a kunai and began carefully etching out a spiral near the edge, pulling the kunai in a graceful circular motion. He noticed Sasuke’s eyes fix on his hands and froze, meeting the boy’s dark eyes. Sasuke looked away quickly, feigning disinterest once again, and Naruto relaxed, letting his focus return to the delicate lines he was placing in the wood. It felt good to leave a mark for once, a token of his existence. He completed the spiral and moved to the other corner of the desk, beginning to carve the jawline of the Fourth Hokage. 

The classroom door squeaked as it was pushed open once again, a tired-looking chuunin moving to the front of the classroom. He was tanned, with a pronounced scar across his nose and large bags under his eyes, his brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. With a clap of his hands, the classroom lights flashed painfully bright, and all the heads in the room snapped in his direction. He let out a pleased chuckle as he took stock of the children seated around the classroom. 

“Good morning, class.”

The entire class muttered a return greeting, and the chuunin smiled. 

“Congratulations to those of you here on your graduation. I’m sure you will all do our village proud as shinobi of the Hidden Leaf.” 

There was a wave of nods as the class collectively acknowledged his statement, followed by a few whoops from some boys in the back. Naruto found himself feeling slightly out of place amid the class’s lively, comfortable atmosphere, hunching his shoulders and pulling his hood up over his ears. 

“Now then, I’m going to quickly move on to what I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for,” the chuunin continued, voice commanding and calming at the same time, and the class fell respectfully silent, a few new genin exchanging excited glances. “Team assignments.”

Naruto flinched, gaze darting around the classroom as if he were a cornered animal. The instructor had begun calling names, but it was all a wordless drone to Naruto, who was too busy praying to any kami or Hokage that would listen that he would be spared the hell of being assigned to a team with two other genin. There was no way he could be an effective shinobi if he was constantly surrounded by people, all of them watching him and judging him for his every failure. 

“Haruno Sakura,” announced the chuunin, drawing Naruto’s attention back to the present, “Uchiha Sasuke, and Shiraishi Hiro. You three are Team 7, under jonin leader Hatake Kakashi.” Sakura let out an excited squeal, while a short boy with caramel-colored hair seated in the back row answered with a loud, exaggerated groan. Sakura shot the boy a glare. 

“Iruka-sensei,” the boy, who Naruto assumed was Hiro, whined, “why do I have to be on a team with these two jerks?”

“Because teams are built based on skill. As dead last, you create a balance with Sasuke, our Rookie of the Year,” Iruka stated mercilessly. Naruto winced at the harsh phrasing, shooting the ‘dead last’ a sympathetic look. Hiro’s small form had deflated like a popped balloon at his sensei’s explanation, and now he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to implode into himself and disappear. 

Seemingly unfazed, Iruka continued to list names in a perfect monotone. Naruto held his breath as he waited for his name to be called, knowing that his sentence would be pronounced and his fate sealed at any moment now. 

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Iruka finally called, “you will be given an individual apprenticeship with the Toad Sage, Jiraiya.”

The announcement was met with silence, before a whisper rippled across the classroom, the fresh genin discussing the new Sannin’s apprentice under their breaths. Naruto gaped at Iruka, relief washing over him, before it was quickly replaced with confusion. 

Iruka set down his clipboard with a click. “That’s everyone. Your jonin leaders will arrive to pick you up shortly, so just hang tight until then. Good luck, everyone!” With a mischievous smirk, Iruka disappeared in a flurry of leaves, leaving the genin to their own devices as they waited to be collected by their new teachers. 

After a second’s delay, the room erupted into raucous chatter, as everyone rearranged themselves into their teams, exchanged greetings or complaints, and muttered amongst themselves about the mysterious new kid who’d landed an apprenticeship with one of the Sannin. Just as Naruto had predicted, all the many sets of eyes in the room slowly found their way to him, and he shrank down in his seat. Sasuke’s glare in particular bored into his skull, and when he turned to face him, he was met with blazing scarlet irises. He hadn’t fully registered Sasuke’s last name until he was faced with the malice seeping from those blood-red eyes.

“Oi. Naruto, right?” Sasuke asked, voice far too hard and cold for a 13-year-old boy. Naruto nodded stiffly. “How did you get the attention of someone as strong as one of the Sannin?”

“Um-” Naruto started, wondering the same thing himself. “I-” Everyone was still watching him questioningly, trying to discern what about the very average-seeming blond would catch the attention of one of the great Sannin. He struggled to piece together a coherent answer himself, and wondered whether maybe it had been a mistake. There was no way Jiraiya would actually want to teach a clanless nobody like himself. 

“Hey, Naruto. Would you mind switching benches? Hiro and I were going to sit next to Sasuke-kun since we’re all a team now,” Sakura asked, walking up to the bench with a reluctant Hiro in tow. Naruto vacated the seat immediately, stuffing the kunai he’d been fiddling with back into the pouch on his back. Sakura smiled at him as she sat down, before her gaze was drawn to the spiral carved in the upper corner of the desk. It hadn’t been there yesterday when she’d occupied the seat last. “Did you make this?”

Once again, Naruto nodded stiffly, fingers itching for something to fiddle with. “Yep, the great and powerful Uzumaki Naruto can draw as well!” His voice came out far too loud again, straining his uncooperative vocal cords, and he struggled to maintain his toothy grin and puffed-up posture. 

Sakura rolled her eyes, shuffling along the bench towards Sasuke so that Hiro could fit as well. Not knowing where to go without a team to sit with, Naruto hovered uncertainly at the end of their desk, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Sakura quickly began making one-sided conversation with Sasuke, and Hiro looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Though the room was overflowing with noise and energy, Naruto felt lonelier than ever, the curious gazes and less-than-subtle gossip becoming suffocating. 

“It is I! The Great Mountain Sage, the illustrious Jiraiya!” a boisterous voice exclaimed from the doorway, heralding the appearance of a large, tall man with spiky white hair, who dramatically struck a very strange pose. The room was eerily silent after the sage finished speaking. With the attention off of him, Naruto felt as if a cord squeezing his insides had been snipped, a low laugh rumbling in his stomach at the ridiculousness of the man before him. 

“What are you laughing at, brat?” The man asked, towering over Naruto. The genin hadn’t even seen him move. 

“Sorry, Jiraiya-sensei. Just, I was relieved, I think? I’d been so nervous you’d be scary or stoic, ‘ttebayo.” Naruto scratched the back of his head again, getting a bit fidgety under the man’s intense gaze. “Also, you have to admit your entrance was kinda funny.”

Jiraiya laughed, a deep, warm laugh that shook his entire body, firmly patting Naruto’s shoulder. “I think I like you, brat. Well, c’mon then.”

“Yeah!” Naruto agreed enthusiastically, following his new instructor out of the classroom with a skip in his step. 

After nearly two hours of awkward silence, Sakura was nearing the limit of her patience. The sun had sunken low enough in the sky to be clearly visible through the first-story classroom windows and the rows of wooden desks had long been empty. Only she, Hiro, and Sasuke remained, and neither of the boys seemed interested in talking to her. Her short conversation with Hiro had quickly descended into bickering and Sasuke hadn’t so much as looked in her direction, much less said a word to her since he asked about Naruto. This was quickly becoming an utter disaster. 

“Sasuke-kun,” she started for the 12th time, “what do you think our sensei will be like?”
 All she got in return was a soft grunt, and Sakura sighed, going back to the book she had laid out on the desk. For once, reading about the complexities of the human chakra network, the ways of affecting such, and the interconnectedness of human chakra with the greater chakra network of the natural world was not gripping her attention. She drummed her manicured fingers on the scratched wooden tabletop restlessly, watching the sun sink past the tree line. 

“Our sensei is an asshole, making us wait this long,” Hiro groaned, picking at some paint on the wall with the corner of a shuriken. 

“Don’t talk about our sensei that way,” Sakura snapped back automatically. “I’m sure he has a good reason for being late. An important mission or something.” 

‘Or he’s just some arrogant prick who couldn’t care less about some genin he has to babysit. I say we make him pay!’ shouted the part of Sakura’s brain she always did her best to ignore. Sakko, Sakura called her. 

‘Not you again. Shut up,’ Sakura snapped at the voice in her head, scrunching her eyes shut.

‘You know you need me,’ Sakko sang, dancing out of Sakura’s reach to curl up in the depths of her consciousness until she felt compelled to chime in unhelpfully again. 

“Yeah, right. He’s just a lazy bastard. Why don’t we get back at him a bit?” Hiro suggested, a mean grin stretching across his face. Sakura rolled her eyes, not surprised that Hiro would agree with the petty voice that lived in her head. 

“No, Hiro. No matter how he behaves, he’s our jonin leader. We need to be respectful.” Sakura’s tone was firm and steady, but she was finding it hard to stay resolute in her manners. The amount of time they were being made to wait without any sort of communication was beginning to get on her nerves as well. 

Hiro scoffed but took a seat, crossing his arms and backing down. Another 15 or so minutes passed in tense silence between the members of the newly-formed Team 7, and Sakura was beginning to consider taking Hiro up on the idea of getting back at their sensei. Before she could verbalize her thoughts, the door finally slid open, revealing a slouching man with silver hair and three-quarters of his face covered in black cloth. Sakura instinctively straightened her posture and patted her hair down. 

“Good afternoon, sensei!” she greeted with feigned enthusiasm. 

Hatake Kakashi’s one visible eye scanned the three of them up and down quickly, before curving upwards into what seemed to be a smile. “My first impression: I hate you all. Now, hurry up and meet me on the roof, we’re wasting time.” Just like that, Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving them once again alone in the vacant classroom. 

Sakura was rooted to the spot, her chakra simmering up to the top of her skin. She was caught between wanting to give that arrogant prick a solid punch in the jaw for having the gall to tell them that they were wasting time and wanting to sink into the ground and never be seen again, by Kakashi, Sasuke, or anyone really. 

Her mother’s words from the morning echoed mockingly in her head: first impressions are everything, dear. Her fingers trembled against her clammy palms and her eyes began to water. She could not cry, not in front of Sasuke. Not now that she finally got to be a kunoichi. She wasn’t supposed to be this pathetic anymore. 

“Sakura, c’mon, we gotta go meet sensei up on the roof,” Hiro called, exiting the door after Sasuke. Sakura looked up, rubbing her eyes furiously. Why was she still the only one who broke into tears over nothing? She hurried after Hiro, trying desperately to push away the doubts that had once again gripped her heart. 

Upon reaching the roof, the three genin of Team 7 found their new sensei leaning casually against the railing, nose buried in a small, brightly-colored book. The sun was setting and a chill was beginning to permeate the air, causing Sakura to shiver in her short sleeves. She sat herself down on the steps opposite Kakashi’s position reluctantly, unsure what her mother would do should she find out her daughter had been sitting on the ground. Hiro and Sasuke sat down on either side of her, and all three of them turned expectant gazes toward Kakashi. The silver-haired jonin gave no indication of having seen them, leisurely turning pages in his book, even as he lost the light to actually read it. 

“Um, sensei?” Sakura asked hesitantly after he’d ignored them for nearly 10 minutes. “What did you call us here for?”

Kakashi looked up from the book, feigning surprise. “Oh, hi there. I didn’t notice you, you were all so quiet. We’re doing introductions, if you’re all quite ready.” 

Sakura graced him with an exquisite eye roll. “Okay, what should we say, sensei?”

“Just your name, likes, dislikes, hobbies, and dreams for the future, simple stuff like that.” Kakashi’s eye curved up in that infuriatingly smug smile that Sakura was already beginning to despise. 

“You first, sensei,” she said, her eyebrow twitching slightly. 

“Oh, me? I’m Hatake Kakashi. I have many likes and many dislikes. My hobbies… I’d rather not say. And as for dreams, I’ve never really thought about it. Your turn.” 

As he spoke, Sakura became increasingly annoyed, to the point where she was having trouble maintaining even the strained smile she’d been practicing. “Oh, me?” she asked pointedly. “I’m Haruno Sakura. I like…” she trailed off, sifting through her mental list of things she liked and letting her eyes drift to Sasuke in the meantime. Bugs and needles were definite ‘no’s from her mother. Barbeque was also forbidden, and while reading was acceptable, Sakura wasn’t sure that extended to the books she liked. There were flowers, but those were really Ino’s thing, and of course Sasuke, but that was embarrassing to say aloud. Realizing she was taking too long, she moved on. “Um, anyway, my hobbies are…” She paused, going through her mental checklist and coming up empty. With a sigh, she changed topics again. “My dream is to… well,” she hesitated because, in reality, she wasn’t really sure. She had fantasies of getting married when she was older and having a family, staying at home with her children, just like her mother wanted. But there was another vision of her future, haunting the edges of her consciousness, that made her pause. In this vision, she was surrounded by friends, all dressed in the traditional garb of Konoha ninjas, all working together to protect their home. In this future, Sakura’s hands glowed with green chakra just like her mother’s used to, and her hair was cropped just below her ears. Was it possible to have both, despite what her mother said? 

Kakashi cleared his throat loudly, and Sakura jumped. 

“Sorry, sensei. My dislikes, uh-”

‘Mom!’ Sakko shouted from the back of her brain.

Sakura scowled. ‘I love mom,’ she argued vehemently, willing the obnoxiously loud voice to leave her alone. 

‘Yeah, but we both know you also want nothing more than to punch her in the face,’ Sakko retorted.

Sakura groaned. “My mom’s spinach soup,” she compromised, face scrunching up at just the memory of the disgusting green slop her mother made her eat at least once a week. 

Kakashi nodded in acknowledgment, turning to Hiro. “Next.”

“I’m Shiraishi Hiro!” Hiro exclaimed excitedly. “I like puzzles and scones. Especially together, when I get to visit my mom at the hospital. I dislike…” his face darkened and his fists clenched, “gambling. My hobby is, um, cooking, I guess. And my dream is to be a hero like in the books my mom used to read to me!” By the time he finished talking, all of Hiro’s energy was back, and Sakura could almost forget the face he made when he’d mentioned gambling. 

Unaffected as usual, Kakashi eye-smiled. “And finally,” he said, nodding to Sasuke.

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke. I dislike many things and like very few. I have not a petty dream, but an ambition that I will achieve.” His eyebrows drew together in a scowl, and Sakura thought she saw a hint of scarlet in his eyes. “I will restore honor to the Uchiha name… and kill a certain man, no matter what.” 

Mid-swoon, Sakura caught the hard look that entered Kakashi’s dark eye and flinched, successfully distracted from Sasuke. “Sensei? What’s wrong?” she asked, shoulders tensed. 

“Oh, nothing at all. It’s just, I have some unfortunate news for you.” Kakashi’s unsettling eye-smile was back in place. “You see, you’re not actually proper genin just yet.”

All three students let out indignant yelps, causing Kakashi to chuckle darkly. 

“Yes, I know how you feel. You’ve been deceived, led to believe you’ve made it when, in fact, the hardest test still lies ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Sakura had taken quickly to her role of unofficial spokesperson, standing up to better glare into Kakashi’s one visible eye. She shivered slightly as the cold seeped into her bones and his intense gaze bored through her.

“Just what I’ve said. I get to give you three one more test. If you pass, you’ll begin active duty on my team the next day. If you fail, you’ll be sent back to the Academy until next year. And I must warn you, this test has a 66.7% fail rate.”

The not-quite-genin of Team 7 all sent their sensei matching glares, for once completely in sync with one another. 

“We’ll begin the test at 7 am sharp. Training Ground 3, don’t be late. And one last piece of advice. Don’t eat breakfast, or you’ll puke.” 

Sakura scoffed internally at his advice. He’d said that like it would be difficult. She hadn’t eaten breakfast since her last birthday, when her dad had snuck her pancakes in bed while her mother was out shopping for her present. 

She looked up, ready to enlighten her sensei on just how little he intimidated her, but he had already disappeared. 

“Kakashi-sensei really likes bailing on us in a hurry, doesn’t he?” Hiro grumbled, standing up and brushing off his pants. Sakura nodded her agreement. Sasuke remained silent as he made his way to the shadowy stairway leading back down into the Academy. It was fully dark at this point, and the near-genin were all ready to get home. 

“Creepy bastard,” Hiro muttered as they descended into the barely-lit halls of the closed Academy, and Sakura had to agree internally. Despite that, she felt oddly happy as she walked between her two teammates.

“Y’know,” she said, jogging in front of the boys and turning to face them, hands clasped behind her back, “I think we might actually make a good team.”

Hiro beamed at her and Sasuke offered a near-imperceptible nod, but that was all Sakura needed. Perhaps her life wasn’t becoming quite as much of a disaster as she’d thought.