Chapter Text
Wedges were undoubtedly superior to the normal shinobi sandals, or those god-awful sneakers, they were elegant, womanly, and, of course, Haruno Sakura could walk into them, run in them, and still look like a girl! Any way she looked at it, wedges were the way to go. Heels weren’t recommended for Shinobi work, she had never seen a Kunoichi wear anything higher than a low wedge, so she had decided to follow her peers' examples. Really, it hadn’t require much thought, unlike the little dots of freckles that splayed across her shoulders which she wished she could dig out like pimples, or the unsightly splotches of reddish hues on her cheeks, and the oddly shaped forehead she often wish she could conceal with a pair of bangs. Of course, she’d sworn that off when Ino had told her it made her look insecure.
Nonetheless, Sakura sighed, sliding the bag of mission supplies off her shoulders and flopping onto her bed, sighing at lack of… anything really, in her life. She’d become a shinobi, and yet, Sasuke or Naruto had hardly looked at her, and Ino’s time was slowly getting eaten up by her own duties and team, while Sakura’s life seemed to remain almost wholly unchanged. Now, though, her parents were more likely to blow a casket and her peers less likely to wave at her when she passed by. Truly, sometimes she wondered why she’d decided to pursue the Ninja life in the first place. Ino? Sasuke? Perhaps it was the unattainable dream of being a female protagonist of a trashy Iwa romance novella, or even the lead of Icha-Icha.
(It had been a heist, getting those books– they were hidden in her fathers.., ahem, stash, something that while she disdained the books had given her a slight pause. Her Sensei enjoyed them, and he was surely a man of fine taste, so clearly they weren’t that bad? Right? She had been so entirely wrong, and yet, she had read through the whole series within a week, engorged in a fantastical world of ninja and powers. Her world, now.)
Now, she would be going on her first C-Rank, courtesy of the Uchiha Clan's insistence that it was far past time, and Naruto’s father being the damn Hokage.
Turning, her light pink duvet wrinkling under her, her eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling with a certain intensity she hadn’t felt in a while. Sakura was not a stranger to feeling watched, judged and evaluated– but the feeling, the creepy, unnerving feeling that someone was watching her, even in her own home unnerved her. The creepy feeling however, was easily ignored for her own overly paranoid conscience, she was inclined to spiral into inconsolability, so her mother said. She was hardly one to argue when she’s seen her mothers meltdowns– things like that run in the family. Tragedy at its finest.
Her thoughts drifted back to her half filled mission bag, a half filled bottle of strawberry pound cake perfume, three wraps of bubblegum, a few pairs of clothes, casual and otherwise, mixed with everything she was required to bring, according to shinobi protocol.
(Really, it was loose suggestions that were taught at the academy, things you should know to bring and things that could be useful, but Haruno Sakura was always a bit by the books.)
A first aid kit, packed neatly with bandages, band-aids and a tourniquet she didn’t know how to use, but reckoned it couldn't be that hard if she read the instructions. Three neat packs of Kunai, and of course, rations. Nothing much else. Though, she still needed to pack shoes, and of course her make-up along with perhaps a book. C-Rank missions were normally just like D-Ranks, except with clients who sometimes did run into real trouble, bandits, or knaves or whomever. Nonetheless, it really couldn’t be that bad, just like traveling with her father, just more professional?
Sometimes, people are wrong. Haruno Sakura wasn't often wrong, though the occurrences of her being incorrect had increased dramatically with her Shinobi life, as though color faded from her world and seeped back into the ground, rose-tinted glasses falling off. Truly, she felt idiotic, her backpack firmly slung over her aching back as she dragged her feet, well behind the boys, Kakashi still a few steps behind her, carefully pacing even as he kept a conversation with Naruto, discussing politics and inside jokes she had no chance of understanding, even as Sasuke scoffed. Tazuna, unfortunately, was not any better, clearly drunk, and not intending to be anything but, which, suddenly, she couldn’t blame.
She’d never been drunk before, but she had seen her parents stumble home laughing more than enough times to know it made life… easier. Somehow.
Still, she regretted her choice of wedges now, her feet ached, her back ached, and frankly, she was regretting her entire life, not just the damn wedges. If only she could be painting her nails right now, talking with Ino about the gossip she had gotten from her cousin just a few hours before. Kakashi seemed sympathetic, yes, but her blood boiled at the way it felt, when he took her pack– still, she didn’t complain, only quietly thanking him. Polite was best, she decided, ignoring the creepy feeling of breath on her back, watching her.
Truly, she was as paranoid as a Shinobi.
Clearly, though, she almost choked a laugh in mock horror, not paranoid enough, to stop herself from sidestepping the puddle, not wanting to get her nice shinobi wedges wet, and idly note that it was a tad strange for there to be such a big puddle around such dry land– and still miss the men pouring out of the puddle. Her Sensei was taken care of first, she assumed because they thought he was the biggest threat, a fair, and correct assumption, only thwarted by the fact Sasuke and Naruto had been dealing with combat since they were little, throwing themselves into action as she positioned herself infront of her client.
The boys seemed curiously unworried about their Sensei’s death, and she shakily eyed his remains, groaning when she finally realized they were chunk and unrealistic. Kakshi appeared not a moment later, saving her after her moment of inattentiveness, and chaining up the two Nin.
“Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto launched into a tight hug, “I can’t believe Sasuke let me think you died!”
Sasuke only corssed his arms grumbling something under his breath before saying, “Dobe, you’re too emotionally charged. You work better thinking someone important is dead.”
Naruto pouted, yelling out a protest and Kakashi crinkled his eyes in that signature way. She zoned out, ignored, as they spoke with their client.
“Sakura-chan?” Kakshi’s voice broke her out of her stupor, and she blinked tilting her head, “What do you think, is it a good idea?”
Not willing to admit she hadn’t been listening so she only nodded, even though Kakahsi’s raised eyebrows point to the fact he was completely aware she hadn’t been paying attention, instead pulling bits of dirt out from under her nails, grimacing at the dirty feeling, “Of course it is.”
Naruto shouted something that sounded weird, so she didn’t bother filtering it– letting it go in one ear and out the other. His loud demeanor had left her at a loss with how to deal with him, she was used to strong personalities, but the boy had no concept of politeness. Something that admittedly made little sense to her, considering his parents. They were both well mannered, functioning adults, who were cordial and nice. He was not, but she supposed boys would be boys.
(Aburame was calm enough for her, admittedly, and she thought Itachi, Sasukes brother, was equally polite, despite not knowing him personally. Ino was obsessed with Itachi, so of course she knew his archetype.)
So, they continued, unsurprising, she was aware, but a hazy endeavor. She wasn’t quite fatigued, but she was… oddly bored. And that damn watched feeling, creeping up her back and crossing her hairs. It was like eyes constantly following her no matter what she did. Still, she supposed combat wasn’t doing well with her psyche. She’d apply for Civilian-Genin therapy when she got back.
She had been internally groaning about a chipped nail when Kakshi had yelled duck, pulling Tazuna– the drunkard she had completely tuned out for the entirety of the trip– down with him. It was pure, unadulterated instinct that left her mostly fine, dirt smudging her dress, and a few bits of hair chopped off. She mourned the loss for about a millisecond before her knees collapsed in on her once more, a haze of dark, dreary fear following her intensely. Kakashi, for once, looked alert, and that scared her more than the fact that neither she, Naruto or Sasuke could get up. Her eyes followed him, and his opponent, an older looking man who scared her half to death and back– listing off organs and vital points with a sort of backhanded memory she would’ve envied in any other circumstance.
A taste of danger makes you realize things, some say, but to Sakura she just felt so deceivingly empty facing her possible death. Scared to the point she couldn’t even feel it.
She doesn’t remember when Naruto got up– or Sasuke, or even when she found herself at the shore, watching the two men fight on the water. Really, she hardly remembers anything besides the feeling of something on her neck, and falling forward, into deceptively cold waters.
“She’s completely gone,” Sasuke murmured, hair wet from the search, “Her body must’ve been… swept away.”
Naruto was in a room alone, hiding from the truth, and Kakashi was still recovering, so it had fallen to Sasuke, ever steady, calm, and arrogant Sasuke, to look for their drowned teammate’s body. There's no way a civilian would’ve survived the drop, then the ungodly amount of time under the surface of the water. She was dead, barely a hint of her perfume still in the air, her bag, the only thing they had left– or Naruto had left.
Sasuke wouldn’t say he and Haruno were friends, or even acquaintances, she thought he was good looking, he thought she was annoying. That didn’t make it hurt less though, even as he tried to rationalize his feelings, box them away into pretty packages that would never be opened again, inevitably buried so deep under many others that he would forget the grievance had ever existed in the first place.
It didn’t hurt.
Naruto had always seen Sakura as his friend, maybe not a close one, but Sakura was a pretty girl and she never sucked up to him, so he thought she was awfully perfect. He didn’t know much about her. But they had been teammates. He had let his teammate die, all because of his incompetence. It wasn’t his fault, he knew, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop it next time.
No, he’d protect Sasuke, and Kashi-sensei, for Sakura-chan, and himself.
Kakashi had witnessed death before. This wouldn’t be his last teammate he’d lose, he was sure, but it hurt more than he had expected it to, to lose a child so young and naive.