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Chapter Text

[. . .]

"I exist for myself, and I'm fine with that."

[. . .]

Chapter 1

To Start Again

[. . .]

Haruno Sakura wakes up when she's six years old.

She's standing in the middle of a park with a convoluted stick in hand, poking at a floating piece of moss inside pond water. The air is baltic, hinting at winter just on the horizon, and she's bundled accordingly with merely a minor gelidity on her exposed hands. She blinks herself into coherency, drawing back from the lively liquid to slowly look down at her stubby, short, and not-at-all adult hands.

For a moment, she's confused.

Where's my ring? Is the first thing she asks herself, turning her tiny palms over in search of it. There's no sign of the ruby-like chakra of her husband, nor that of the metallic band that should be sitting snug on her ring finger.

Why are my hands so small? Is her second question minutes later, after she's done nothing but stare down at the unorthodox impression of reality that she has begun to assume is a dream because it's very abrupt from the fight she was just losing against an alien enemy. She takes careful consideration of every youthful line aligning the creasy regions of her freezing digits, growing more baffled when she acknowledges that she has hands akin to a toddler's rather than a woman's.

Curiously—and not quite there in the head that is hazardously questioning why she doesn't sense her daughter nor what's left of her friends anywhere—she bends forward to look at her rippling reflection in the water.

What stares back at her is her face with minor changes—her hair is a tint shade darker and her eyes slightly more narrow, with a particularly barren forehead. Most importantly, there's childish fat on her rosy cheeks and a more spheroidal facial structure that, again, corresponds to a toddler rather than a woman.

She blinks at her mirror image.

She's a kid.

She drops the stick to use that hand to horrifyingly pull at the extra, foreign flesh on her features, ignoring the lingering bark that chips off the more she probes.

Why is she a kid?

Her skin turns red from the pressure.

Where is the battlefield?

"Sakura!"

She doesn't jump when someone she doesn't recognize calls her name, but she does turn with rapt attention, keen on finding out who or what it is that's saying her name. Her questions don't cease their turmoil in her head despite the momentary distraction. Instead, more amasses like an infection when she takes in the burden of a brown and orange autumn.

It's supposed to be summer.

She sees an older boy with a shade of pink hair similar to hers running toward her, a sizable smile plastered wide and excitable on his spectacles-decorated countenance. He wears a long, black jacket over a verdant turtleneck tucked into formal, ironed dress pants. "Look!" He says when he finally stands in front of her not a second later from a long way distance, presenting her with both of his cupped hands holding an olive-umber amphibian.

A toad.

He's fast, she thinks with increasing bewilderment, meeting the taller boy's hazel eyes full of innocent anticipation unflinchingly. Her heart drops when she can't scratch any bits and pieces within her cranium as to who this might be. Who is this person?

Her gut rolls.

Where am I?

"Do you like it?" He prods as he shoves it closer to her face. "I found it on a bench by the fence near the entrance!" He quips, lightly pushing the unmoving and beady-eyed toad in one hand so that he can pet it with his other.

She stares down at the tiny creature, trying to uncover an answer to a face she has never seen.

Who are you?

"Do you think Dad will let us keep it?"

"No," Comes her fast answer, surprising herself. The boy doesn't look surprised at all. He's smiling at the croaking being with wonder, ignoring her. "He'll hate it," Her voice is high, whisper-like. Like a shy child. She doesn't know why she answered him with that. She doesn't know who his father is, nor what he acts like. She doesn't know... anything.

Who am I?

The question sounds sour.

I'm Sakura.

Haruno Sakura swallows in disbelief when the boy lowers the toad on the pond. "You're right," He hums, gleefully observing the minuscule amphibian hop away. "Having a pet toad takes a lot of responsibility. Do you think if we ask Dad for a frog instead, he'd let us?" He regards her again with that beaming grin that looks a bit like Naruto's when he's just been given a hefty bowl of pork ramen.

Bright, ecstatic, and brimming with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Although her mind has yet to go silent with its torturous realizations that are brimming with visions of her death she can't possibly believe, she answers calmly. "No, Jin. A snake might be better."

Jin?

Sakura looks away, back into the reflection. Fallen leaves float, taunting her.

That can't be me.

She's dead.

"Good idea!"

She's fucking dead, isn't she? She died.

"We should get the cute ones. With the red eyes and white scales?"

Her breathing goes shallow.

I'm dead.

"Maybe a King Cobra!"

Her ears muddle and her heart constricts. She raises her empty hand shakily, desperately searching for a ring that isn't there.

I remember punching the bones off this hand, Sakura internally dreads, and for a stagnant moment, a flickering image of shaky peripherals and agonizing pain squirting crimson streaks on a crater-filled ground flash by.

The enemy is gone.

So is she.

"A striped one sounds cool too. What do you think, Sakura?"

Her entire body goes numb.

"...Sakura?"

Her entire world goes dark.

[. . .]

"Sakura!" Shikamaru's shout is clear in the fields just as she's impaled through the neck with a spear.

The black markings of her Yin seal are quick to repair it as she latches onto the weapon fruitlessly, weakly. I'm not giving up, she snarls internally, increasing her strength as she chokes on her blood.

Her regeneration is precise. Absolute. She is Uchiha Sakura, Head of the Medical Ward of Konoha, the Strongest Kunoichi of her time.

None of those titles matter, in the end.

The tip of the spear extends to become an axe, cutting the remaining parts of her neck clean off.

She hears her daughter scream.

Her head rolls, throbbing on nothing.

She gazes at the Ōtsutsuki in the eye with promising bloodlust as the axe comes down to her forehead.

[. . .]

Sakura never wakes up from her dream.

She rouses with the same boy from before and an older man who glares at her from a mahogany door with notable worry in his eyes, keeping his distance from both of them. His wrinkles pronounce when she meets his gaze steadily, without a blink to soothe her dry eyes.

"Sakura, you're okay!" Jin, the boy with pink hair, with the toad, exclaims with teary-eyed relief. "I thought... You just passed out, out of nowhere!"

Sakura takes in his features again, calculating. His hazel eyes are covered with fretful moisture as his body hunches closer to her bedside, slouched with relief and concern. She doesn't dignify the boy with a response.

She's suddenly, very, very tired.

"It's okay," The boy goes on, grasping her pale, weak hand. He doesn't mind her silence. "I'll be here to take care of you, Sakura. I promise."

She closes her eyes in reprieve.

She died.

And she lives, again.

[. . .]

Every day after that one, Sakura is introduced to a new world unlike she has ever seen.

There are tall, mystical buildings that glitter underneath the hot rays of the sun and articulate, nostalgic places reminiscent of home. Of Konoha.

Every day after waking, Sakura struggles.

Adapting to someplace new while grieving her past is exceptionally hard, though if it were not for Jin, she might have succumbed to the pressures of the unbelievable concept of reincarnation. Jin, who is her older brother by eight years—does his best to cheer her up. He makes puerile jokes that bring no smile or laughter out of her, though he tries. He takes her outside regularly to observe more of a place unknown as the months continue, and she takes it all to mind, progressing and never letting go of her ninja-like habits.

It's nice of him.

She decides to reward him with a genuine smile one day when he gives her strawberry ice cream. The receiving elation and hug has her thinking that, maybe, reliving again is worth the trouble.

Maybe, she thinks wistfully as she grips an empty paper where her daughter and husband should be in the dead of night, I can do this again.

Come a year and she feels better enough to test her strengths. She endeavors to bubble up her powerful chakra source, feeling her forehead pulsate at every successful attempt she makes. When she manifests her strength in the middle of nowhere, far enough from her home while Jin and her working father—Wasuke is his name—are out, she's thankful to find that, though she is in a new body, this one still inhabits her previous efforts.

It's not the best, but it's not the worst. She's not in her prime years, so Sakura decides to practice all the jutsu she's written in a notebook Jin gifted to her for her birthday—still the damn same date—to recultivate the monstrous strength and ability of her old life.

When she jots down her findings, she hides the notebook underground, attaching an ember of chakra to it with light Fuinjutsu so that she can locate it easily if it gets lost. She changes its hiding place every week to keep her wits about her being in a foreign land.

It's a good move because she's found dogs digging around where she formerly secreted the notebook.

Another year goes by.

She spends her nights evolving her body and working on herself. She then spends her daytime hours attending school and making friends other than Jin who, in the end, cannot compare to any of her old ones.

It's for the best, she thinks as she comes home to an empty roof. I don't want to be reminded of what I don't have anymore. She takes out her homework and finishes it just as Jin and her father come home, praising her for her intellect.

Jin is kinder, more present, than her new father. This father isn't as dwelling as her past life's one, though he's more aloof. She finds she does not care because she doesn't think that a father who doesn't show affection would leave bento boxes for both his children in the raw hours of the morning. So Sakura adapts as the months go by. She decides to help her new family as much as they aid her by becoming the best daughter.

Not perfect, because she's far from it.

But she does her best and if her father is less apprehensive about her for it, then all the better.

She learns. She dedicates herself to belonging, even though it doesn't matter as much as she wants it to.

She recognizes this vacuity and lethargy hanging inside the marrow of her used bones.

Ino concluded that she had depression when Sasuke left her back in Konoha with baby Sarada.

"So that's it then?" Sakura mumbled, staring emptily at the table with vacant tea cups present before her. "He's gone and I relapse."

"I think you should find something else other than Sasuke that can make you happy, forehead," Her best friend advised, frowning. "Being co-dependent on Sasuke knowing how he is... isn't good. Like, at all."

"I know," Sakura sighed with resigned fatigue. "I know. I'm trying."

Ino tilted her head, eyeing the little girl in her arms. "It sounds selfish, but I'm glad you're trying. At least, for her," She nodded to Sarada's sleeping form. "She needs her mom now that her dad decides to be a jackass and leave."

Defending Sasuke was natural for her to do, but the argument died on her tongue because she was right. Sasuke was gone, again, and Sakura couldn't do anything about it. Except to care for the part of him he left behind, in her precious child.

Her engentado melancholy hanged laboriously, but she mustered the strength to straighten her back and give Ino a knowing smile. "You're right, pig."

Ino smirked back at her, waving her hand dismissively. "I always am."

It came back into this life. And this time around, all she has is the determination to see what this life has to offer for her.

After all, Sasuke always said that what he loved about her was her optimism.

I think I like my optimism too, Sasuke, she thinks with a prayer on her knees, hopeful and exhausted all the same.

She studies this world's history and finds many differences during school. Ultimately, the similarities that are of importance are that of war and bloodshed that she thinks she might never escape from.

That's okay, she thinks as she lays sprawled on the dirt, sweaty, panting, and bleeding. I'll protect myself better this time. I'll protect my family more.

And if she sees creatures of abominable, terrorizing nature that she uses as target practice, then nobody is wise to take notice of it.

They're everywhere.

They come in all shapes and sizes, often of horrifying proportions.

Some fly, some sit still, too fat to move.

Some follow her home, so she takes detours to stare at them long enough until they try to attack her.

Understanding them becomes too tiresome. She instead focuses on the erratic, uncoordinated strategy they use, and how she feels a different sort of consolation when she takes out her despair and rage onto them. Sometimes they come back. Other times they sizzle and pop into nonexistence, satisfying her craving for action. It's desperate attention she has become addicted to when she has time. These are the monsters that haunt me, she believes, so she makes it her mission to get rid of everyone she comes across.

Years go by, and in everyone, she feels less and less burdened with the weight of grief, in the place where love should have been.

She makes friends. They come and go.

She meets people in the street. They come and go.

She meets her reflection, uncovering the purple mark of her diamond by dispersing the henge that still works to hide who she is in a world so peculiar.

They think I'm weird, she muses with a slight humorous huff as she rubs the center of her temple. Nobody likes an invisible-fighting weirdo.

The monsters are invisible to the populace, she's come to find.

"I'm moving out," Jin tells her when she's ten years old, serious as can be.

She's cooking her father's favorite vegetables and steak when he lets the bomb drop. All Sakura can do is turn around and give him her attentive, blank, regard.

Sakura wants him to stay. "Okay. Do you need help with your belongings?" She asks instead.

She can't deny the bitter joy she feels when Jin's shoulders sag in relief. "Yes, please. If you don't mind?" He smiles broadly.

She finishes cooking, buys cardboard boxes (kills several monsters disturbing a small group of unknowing children in the restroom), and helps her brother gather his belongings when they get home from their brief shopping spree. She spends his last three days with him with light bickering back and forth, indulging in his comical observations more than she has in the last four years she's gotten to know him.

When the fourth day comes on a lounging Saturday, she stands next to her father waving Jin goodbye.

"I'll come visit!" He shouts while closing the trunk and turning to the side to reach for the driver's door.

"You better!" Her father snaps, forming his hand into a resolute fist. The crack in his voice is unmistakable.

Sakura doesn't point it out.

Jin gives them both one, last, longing look before getting into the car (an odd mechanical contraption she knows every part of due to her fascination with something so unique) and driving away.

So Sakura stays, cooking with her father the day the house feels a bit more empty.

"I'm glad you're here, Sakura-chan," Her father sulks, patting her head as he stirs the spicy soup around. "Screw that traitor brother of yours. Me and you will take over the world together instead, yeah?" He goads, sniffling.

Sakura pats her father's hand in return. He has a little more wrinkles than she remembers. "We will," She vows, and he smiles.

The next day goes the same.

She wakes up.

She goes to school.

She comes home.

She hangs out with her grumbling father.

And she sleeps.

Will I ever go back? She asks the day of her birthday, staring at the flickering candles with her father, her brother, and an additional member. A woman with short black hair and the most forgiving eyes.

Kaori, Jin supplied one wintery evening, introducing the healthy, happy woman with perfect skin to her.

I don't think I will, she surmises, closing her eyes and willing the stitches on the woman's forehead to go away just as she blows out the candles.

She's eleven, today.

[. . .]

Haruno Sakura, at the tender age of twelve, holds a bundle of pure joy and kindness in her arms.

"That's your little nephew, Yuuji!" Jin beams, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. He sniffles at the sight of her and his son, and Sakura thinks that this child wonder is just as beautiful as Sarada was when she held her. The face is so red, just like Sarada's was. He's relatively bigger than Sarada had been, though the baby smell is a little the same. Less strong than Sarada's.

At the reminder of her daughter, Sakura begins to cry.

"He's beautiful," She croaks, smiling brokenly up at her older brother who will never know of her sunken commitment to a dream life beyond this one. Of life long before, when she had lost it all and gained it all, just to lose it again.

She doesn't know why his smile mimics hers. "He is, isn't he?" He whispers, brushing a tiny lock of pink away from the baby's face. His finger lingers in place as the baby shifts with puffed cheeks in her arms, demanding freedom. The warmth and heaviness are almost condemning.

Sakura thinks this baby cannot compare to Sarada, but he doesn't have to.

She loves Yuuji already.

"Yeah," She snuggles into him, "He is."

[. . .]

Sakura is fifteen, grieving, and holding onto an innocent three-year-old Yuuji who hugs her with almighty strength.

"I knew there was something off," Her father hisses, running a devastated hand down his face. "I warned him! I fuckin' warned him and he didn't listen for shit!"

Sakura hears her father's ramblings, his frustrations, and his mourning for a son that could've prevented all of this if he had just stuck his head out of his crippling pumping organ and listened to them. She listens on with a heavy heart that squeezes another precious person inside to miss, clinging onto the baby boy who has no idea what is going on. He plays with Sakura's long hair in quiet burbles, marveling at the softness of it.

It was too late, she wants to tell her father. He was in love.

Because Haruno Sakura is the biggest fool of them all when it comes to love. She recognized the look her brother had when it came to his wife that seemed just a bit too odd for her tastes. She knows the yearning the heart bleeds for when it loves, and she knows it in her soul that her brother would not have given up on a woman he treasured more than life itself.

She knows, and she hates that she can understand him for it. Sasuke's face flashes through her head in bitter agony.

It was too late, brims at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't say it.

Instead, Sakura grips onto Yuuji, of his future.

How will he do without a mother and father?

"Sakwa," Yuuji giggles, putting her hair in his mouth.

She gently pulls it away and lovingly caresses his head, closing her eyes in an attempt to keep useless tears at bay. There is no use for tears right now.

It doesn't matter, in the end, she knows. She has Yuuji. Her brother left behind someone else in his place, a memory that shouldn't have been. In her brother's damning home, she will care for Yuuji with all the devotion and adoration she has given Sarada, and then some. If her brother thinks he'll be forgiven for leaving this world just like that, then he's right. Because Sakura doesn't hate, nor does she hold a grudge.

Kind of like Sasuke, her mind quips without humor. Except the person was my brother, and I'm still a kid.

She understands.

And she knows that perhaps, as finifugal as it has become, she will protect Yuuji instead.

Because, unlike her brother, Sakura fights for what is left.

She fights and kills, and moves on.

A lesson Sasuke taught me, she thinks with resignation. One she had to learn in her past lifetime to benefit from in this one.

Her father storms off into his room, leaving her there.

The silence returns.

Yuuji's pumping heart echoes with promise.

I'll protect you, Yuuji.

Sakura stares down at the toddler in her arms and thinks, I'll kill the world for you.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"The sun exists, I've seen it and gone blind with faith."

[. . .]

Chapter 2

A Meeting of Prowess

[. . .]

Yuuji's birthday is on March 20th, ten days before Sarada's and eight days before hers.

Sakura celebrates his fourth birthday with plentiful cheer. With dismissive anger and opulent intent, she pushes the thoughts of her brother into the darkest abyss harboring the remnants of the other beautiful people she lost to focus on Yuuji's big day. She playfully dashes bits of frosting on his nose while fixing the bib she forced around his neck, smiling kindly at his slapping palms hitting the plastic of the chair over and over.

His expression is a morph of intense focus, honing on the prized desert present on the table, taunting him.

"I want my cake, I want my cake," He chants, pointing insistently while looking from her to the object of his greatest desire.

Sakura is half-surprised that he hasn't damaged the plastic with how much he's striking it. Since he's been able to walk, he's shown a remarkable strength reminiscent of her daughter's. His is a bit more... brutal about it because he likes to hit things for no reason a lot, however. Not that she minds. She can take a few punches. Her father, however... "I'll get you your cake, don't worry," She gently tells him, humoring his bashing by grabbing his tiny fist and giving it a business-like handshake.

Yuuji has no idea what that means, as he continues to shake excitedly in his seat the closer Sakura pushes the chair to his reward. It's not a highchair, as he's broken that one (thankfully when he didn't seem to need it anymore since he grew out of it). The chair is a bit taller, somewhat like a stool, to adapt to his tiny height.

When he's near, Sakura seizes his hands with a soft grip as soon as he lashes out. He turns immediately onto her with a petulant pout. "Caake!" He whines.

"Yes, yes, I know. You still haven't blown out your candles, though," She softly admonishes, pointing at the flame. "Won't you make a wish?"

Yuuji cutely tilts his head. "Make a Wish?" His brow furrows in suspicion.

"Yes, wish," Sakura grins.

"What is dat?" He inquires, curious. He wrinkles his nose, unknowingly spreading more of the white coating around.

She huffs with laughter. "A wish is... a desire for something. Like, you want something. Very much."

"Oh," He brightens, "I wish for a cake." He wiggles one hand easily out of her hold to point at the cake again. "For me, please!" He pokes his chest, while his other hand tugs at the table cover.

Sakura lets him grab her fingers. "You will. I'm just asking if you'd be willing to blow out the candles and wish for something?" She offers, gesturing to the flickering fire.

Yuuji frowns. "No cake?"

"Yes, cake."

"Then give me it." He pouts at her.

"What do we say?" She raises an eyebrow at him.

He falters, looking dumbfounded, and then squirms in his seat, thinking. "...Please? With a lot of frost!" He tries.

"Good job!" She praises, conceding when she melts at the shining smile that blossoms on his cherub face. She'll try next year to get him to blow the candle by himself. She pulls the plate of the round cake toward him, opening her mouth to whisk the flame away with her breath, only to cease all movements when she feels spit hit her cheek and the sound of a rolling tongue hit her ears.

She whips her head to look at Yuuji hopefully, snorting when she sees him leaning forward, endeavoring to blow the candles. He succeeds after several saliva-dribbling attempts and turns to her, searching for commendation.

Sakura's eyes crinkle at the corners from how big her smile is. "Very good, Yuuji. Did you wish for anything?" She wonders.

Yuuji points at her. "I wish for you and me to eat my cake," He requests, answering her question.

The smile is so much like Sarada. It twists her heart painfully, but Sakura agrees to his innocent demand, forgoing the brief visage of a baby Sarada manifesting in his place. Carefully, she removes the four candles (she knows that most don't celebrate the number four due to its relation to death, but she knew Yuuji was looking forward to today, so she went on to celebrate the day of his birth anyway) and puts them over a napkin. "Wait there, Yuuji. I'll get a knife to cut you a piece."

Yuuji still licks off the syrup. When she comes back from the kitchen and sits herself down, she pretends not to notice light stains of red jelly over his cheeks and chin. He sits deathly still, watching intently as she grabs a small plastic bowl with one hand and cuts a decent piece of the cake to shove into it. When she places it in front of him with the spoon, he immediately digs in.

He makes a big mess.

Not as big as last year's since Sakura retrieved a plastic utensil for him to eat with, but the mess is nonetheless a very Yuuji thing to do. Although she instructs him with an honest demonstration on how to get less food on himself, she finds his wildness endearing.

He laughs with sugary-coated hands, jumping in his seat with joy as he takes a fistful of the strawberry cake into his mouth, forgoing the utensil she finds dropped on the floor. His bib gets dirty and the cake goes all over the place, but she patiently wipes his frosting-coated face, cooing at his cuteness.

She remembers Sarada being much more quiet than Yuuji. Certainly more clean, but a bit more possessive of her cake when Sakura attempted to take a bite. Yuuji mindlessly offers some to her, smudging her hair that's since been cut to her nostalgic chin length. She takes it and eats the crumbling piece, humming when he claps his hands.

He's such a cute child. Crazy a little, though.

(That doesn't mean it's ingratiating all the time. From a quiet baby to a wild toddler, Yuuji spends a lot of his time making her life a living hell.

Not that she truly minds. It's better the lash of his giggling tantrums rather than silence.)

If she hadn't sent a Shadow Clone of herself to school, she's sure Yuuji would have set the house on fire.

When Yuuji finishes his slice and drinks the sippy cup of apple juice she acquired earlier, she gathers him in her arms and willingly lets his soiled fingers latch onto her newly bought turtleneck sweater. "Come along, Yuuji," She murmurs, cuddling him close so that he doesn't try to grab for her hair so easily, "It's time for a bath. And then we can play outside, okay?"

Yuuji cheers and kicks his leg into her developing boobs.

She hides her wince.

A very strong baby, indeed.

(She remembers Kaori and her damned smile.)

[. . .]

The memories of her Shadow Clone return to her right as her father comes home from work.

"Ah," She turns around, smiling as she distantly shovels the mass of information for later, "Welcome home, papa. How was work?"

He responds with a grunt rather than the reluctant vernacular he used to answer with. Since Jin's been gone, it's only normal for Sakura to notice her father's declining mental health teetering on the edges of depression. It's not her job to aid a parent with their issues, nor is it her burden to bear. But she wants to, so she's been working on getting him to speak out lest he succumbs to his misery.

(She doesn't admit that it's because she'd rather face her father's problems than her own.)

She lowers the stovetop heat on her simmering soup and begins to gather a plate. "I asked how was work today, papa." Her tone holds a sense of demand to it. If not, her father will just assume she doesn't mind his silence. Which, isn't true. He's a stubborn old man.

He sniffs. "The usual," He grouches, tossing his hat to the side as he approaches her in the kitchen. He begins to wash his hands and she assembles a spoon and chopsticks faster than he does. He always wants to do things himself.

"Did you eat today?"

Her father sits down with a sigh on the small cushion next to the table. "Does an energy bar count?" He grumps, sadly scowling at her as she pours soup into the bowl. Carrots, potatoes, and bok choi spill between various other vegetables and savory liquid.

"No," She sends him a look.

He huffs. "There wasn't enough time to eat today, anyway."

"There's a reason I make you food, you know," She says, walking and setting the plate down. She quickly scurries to get a white round bowl for the sticky rice.

"...A bird came in and pecked it all away."

"So it ate your three chicken sandwiches and drank all your lychee tea?" Sakura deadpans.

Wasuke shrugs. "Perhaps."

She shakes her head and walks over to place the rice next to the soup. "Since you want to neglect your health, I'm going to supervise you until you finish your food," She hums peacefully and goes to gather a portion of the meal she made for herself. She focuses her sense on the unique energy lingering in Yuuji to make sure he's okay. When she gathers that he's still in deep slumber, she joins her father at the table.

The two of them press their hands together in thanks before eating.

The silence persists throughout their whole mealtime.

It's only until she collects their empty plates that he speaks again. "I bought Yuuji a birthday card. Kami knows the brat'll just eat it but I thought it'd be nice if he got one," Her father grumbles, shoveling at his pockets before sliding the card on the table. "You should give it to him. Tell 'im it's from his favorite grandpa."

Sakura titters. "No, no. You should deliver it to him. It'll mean more coming from you."

Wasuke scowls. "You're the worst daughter ever."

"Tomorrow's the weekend," She grins, nonpulsed by his grumpy behavior. "You'll be able to give it then."

"He's getting spoiled because of you. If he grows up greedy I'll be the first to tell you 'I told you so'."

"Giving a card to Yuuji coming from the heart isn't something to snark at, papa. It'll make Yuuji happy. He missed you today," Sakura confesses, lowering the bowls to the sink. It's true. In the middle of their outing to the park today, Yuuji began crying when he saw a flamingo swing that reminded him of his grandfather. The boy seemed happy to hit it with a stick afterward, though.

Her father grumbles various unsavory words under his breath before sighing. "Fine. But if he vomits on me again I'm not buying you that headband."

Sakura knows he'll buy it for her anyway. "He vomited on you like, once. When he was a baby."

"You left me to die, Sakura-chan." He's careful not to mention her brother.

She rolls her eyes, fond. How this man manages to go from a brooding mute to a pestering elder is beyond her. It's rather nice to hear him bicker with her again, though. It's been quite a bit since he's last done that. The spark seemed to have died after the events of Jin.

Her hand reaches for the sponge and soap, intent on washing the dishes so that she doesn't have any to do in the morning, but her father is by her side and bumping his hip to hers to push her away. "Beat it, kiddo. I'm washing them this time."

She crosses her arms. "It's fine. I can do it."

"Yeah, yeah. Mock your youth to your old man, why don't you," He mumbles and practices the same dish-washing ritual of everyday life. A constant in her past life and this one.

Sakura punches his arm and he hisses, dropping the bottle of dish soap. "Okay. I'll go sleep off today, then. If you need help, wake me up." She's not going to sleep just yet, but he doesn't need to know that. It's not that she doesn't want him to know—she's just indifferent. If he finds out about her nightly training regimes, she'll tell him. If not, then it's her secret to keep.

"Ugh, whatever you're eating I want in," Her father grimaces, rubbing his arm. "Freaks, the both of you. I bet Yuuji is learning all his bad manners from you, Sakura-chan." Never mind that Yuuji's been on his best behavior as of late.

She walks away, laughing lightly. "He learns from the best."

"More like the worst. Go to bed, evil creature. You're annoying me."

She lingers a bit, watching him wash away the dirt and grime, and then leaves for her room, sliding and closing the door.

Sakura then leaves through the window, keeping a Shadow Clone home in her place.

[. . .]

She doesn't sense anymore of those monsters she's been garnering extensive notes for.

The darkened pits with eyes and humanoid features are gone when she punches them away, leaving a scorch mark on the place it once lingered. The last of them, Sakura notes with dismay. She was hoping there'd be more for her to annihilate and get the steam off, but it looks like she's going to expand her search further outward. That's fine. She can work her legs with the run.

As she kicks her running limbs into motion for an adventure beyond the land she knows, she recites the notes and information brought to her by her Shadow Clone that popped in her room once she finished her homework. So far, it's the usual. She does pique a bit of interest in the doctoral pathway club for after-school hours, but that's pretty much it. Otherwise, it's the same learning of the Japanese and foreign English language (which in all honesty is proving harder than her year of French), her Calculus III and Linear Algebra Mathematics, Social Studies, and the general science and engineering nagging that her friends like to complain about. It seems Physical Education has been postponed for tomorrow.

She misses the Psychology club that's since been disbanded. It was a nice run for a bit until the School's funding focused on more business-like theatrics, like accounting. Which is fine but she would much rather they reinstate the study of the human psyche. She's learned much, similar to her classes in her old life she shared with Ino.

Sakura inhales sharply as she dodges a crowd of students she hears laughing at her after she runs by.

Ino had been a God-send. She brought reason in her irrational tantrums.

I wish you were here, Ino.

If she was, Sakura would have jumped at the idea of the Veterinary Vocational Program earlier, rather than the standard doctorized position. She's good at healing humans, so it's only fair she researches animals too.

As she thinks about future options, she doesn't realize until an hour later, running full-speed, that she's bumping into a sticky, rotten-smelling monster that's hiding away in the forest.

She cringes, backing away and looking up. A drop of blood lands on her nose.

Oh.

A dead person is being eaten.

She quickly gathers power in her fist and punches the creature away, catching the body. It has no head. The curse cries at their missing abdomen, lashing out at her as it slowly disintegrates from the wound out.

She gives a roundhouse kick when it's close enough, bored as she watches it completely burst away.

All that remains is the stench of her chakra.

(And something else. A smother of cowardice, of fear?)

"Well," She mumbles with confusion at how easily this one died, placing the headless corpse by her feet. "I guess I didn't get here on time," She tells him, shaking off her bloody hands. There's no use healing him if the brain is gone. There's nothing left. She might have been able to regrow the complexities of the cerebral flesh if he had any left AND if his heart was still beating. It sure would've taken weeks, maybe months to do.

But the guy is dead. And the dead don’t come back to life.

Sakura studies the black shirt and pants. If she's right, that's a uniform. This boy could be a student.

Doing an autopsy without her tools is meaningless. Which reminds her, she needs to buy some. Reaching with her finger to stick into the neck, she inserts her chakra to run a diagnosis on him. The lungs are a bit black—a smoker, maybe. Otherwise, the kid is fine. There's the residue of damaging, chaotic energy on the liver and heart, but they look like spike marks. Maybe the monster stabbed him.

Someone gasps.

Sakura calmly raises her head to spot a girl trembling by a tree, shaking her pointed finger at her. Most of her body is obscured. "Y-You..."

Sakura thought she felt something else when she came here. "Hey," She begins casually, examining her person. It's hard to make out in the dark, but Sakura thinks the girl is wearing the same uniform the dead boy is. "Is this your... friend?" She gestures to the body.

Sakura squints her eyes when the girl gets closer.

"H-Help..."

The croak is sudden, and the choke that follows makes Sakura scramble to grab her—

What she catches is dust.

Sakura stares.

What?

[. . .]

Sakura kills a total of twenty-three curses. Big or small, they're decimated within seconds.

She goes home a little burned, but she's fine.

She wakes up the next day with Yuuji climbing all over her face and her father's nagging that her breakfast will get cold.

"Hey Yuuji," She holds him as she sits up, watching him poke and prod at her face. The sight of the corpse and the ashes is a bitter, rotting taste.

"Would you like me to teach you self-defense?"

His answer is nothing but a babble of how good the pancakes are.

[. . .]

A month later, she asks Yuuji the same question.

He answers that he loves the taste of cotton candy.

[. . .]

When the third month gives no results Yuuji understands what she's asking of him, she tells herself she'll ask yearly.

She will not condemn a child to war-like tactics. Not if she can help it.

(And if she selfishly wants to see Yuuji grow up without needing to fight, then that's her business.)

[. . .]

She enters a bakery and waits in the small three-man line. The smell is overwhelmingly sweet—a scent Yuuji would go crazy for—coloring her insides in baked memories of lost passion and newfound belligerence. It isn't often that she bakes. She used to, in her old life, when Sasuke would be gone for days through their travels. Her cravings while pregnant were a nightmare to deal with.

She inhales deeply, relaxing the melancholy off her shoulders. It decides to dig deep into her chest instead, though it hurts less than she thought it would.

Taking in the surrounding area, she notes with idle satisfaction that color is abundant inside. There are posters of many things she's seen flickering in the landscape of the building, advertisements that remind her of Boruto. He would have loved the burgers here, she thinks.

"Excuse me!"

Sakura turns her head to look behind her, confused.

A boy with black hair and enigmatic eyes sprawls a shining smile in her direction. "You have pretty hair! Is it natural?" He inquires.

She blinks at him.

What?

"Haibara."

The seething voice of another boy comes into play and Sakura naturally looks over the stranger's shoulder to locate from whom it's coming from. A guy with blonde hair covering his left side. He also wears similar clothing to the first boy, which she finds slightly suspicious. Maybe they attend the same school. Come to think of it, their outfits kind of look like...

She makes sure her body is casual when her heart drops at the realization.

It's the same uniform as the corpse and girl she saw four months ago.

"Don't ask rude questions."

Haibara, the boy, doesn't notice her dread. Instead, he bows to her, exclaiming an apology. "I meant no offense! Allow me to buy you a treat, yes? You're very beautiful!" He stands at attention with a cheeky blush. For some reason, the image of a fluttering Lee comes to mind.

She pushes it away.

Sakura regards the blonde next to him who facepalms. "...It's okay," Sakura waves him off, causing the Haibara boy to droop, "I can pay. Thank you, though. I wasn't offended," She clarifies.

The blonde eyes her slightly then nods. "Very well. We'll leave you be."

Sakura makes to turn around, but Haibara makes a noise of protest.

She raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He puffs his cheeks, side-eyeing his blonde friend who glares at him. "Wuh... Would you like to join us for lunch!?" He blurts.

Sakura blinks.

"Ugh," The blonde complains.

Lunch?

Sakura looks at the brooding teen, searching. "...If it's not a bother, then sure," She says. What's the harm?

(She's curious. Their energy is... suppressed. It's little. But she knows there's more to it than that.

She just wants to know, is all.

It feels like a regulated portion of those monsters she's been clearing out.)

"Great!" Haibara exclaims, extending an arm for her to shake. "I'm Haibara Yuu!"

"Itadori Sakura," She greets in return, taking the hand and giving it a firm grip. The boy's ears steam from how red he is when he lets go, staring incredulously at his hand. Shit. Did she do it too hard? Her body turns, dropping her hand when she sees the blonde isn't going to shake it. His irritated silence reminds her of Sasuke, just a bit.

After a harsh stare-off between the two boys (they couldn't be more obvious that they don't trust her), the blonde finally deems it worthy to acknowledge her existence.

"Nanami Kento," He grits out, and Sakura doesn't miss the tensing of his body as he eyes her up and down.

She wonders.

She smiles, sincere. "A pleasure."

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"To the best of my ability, I love as a Mother."

[. . .]

Chapter 3

Homestead Life of a Teenager

[. . .]

Sakura situates on the opposite end of the cafe booth where the two boys she met sit.

She attempts to make herself comfortable by calmly setting her bags of food on the expanse, beige table unobstructed by the sun's rays. The welcoming smile on Haibara's face makes up for the seriousness plastered on Nanami's that has admittedly made her rethink if she should stay or not. She does, in the end, when Haibara ushers her to eat and Nanami makes no complaints.

While the grumpy blonde idly raises the Boba drink for relative sips, the brunette talks his tongue away, bright and energetically bringing her regard to exponential levels of entertainment.

He engages with her the most. He asks many relative questions over the next hour: favorite color, favorite food, what school she attends, what city she lives in, etc. Most of his questions are innocent enough (despite retracting most of them at the expense of Nanami's cautious wrath) so Sakura answers them all honestly. She has nothing to hide and they don't seem like bad people.

Besides, if they dare attack her, they'll die within seconds.

Something they must be well aware of because they do a terrible job of hiding their apprehension.

Although she hasn't seen them use their energy yet, it sometimes spikes when she moves or talks; she can feel it, especially in Haibara, but she supposes that's because of how often she accidentally brushes her legs with his. Sakura's not blind to notice the flush to his cheeks, so she keeps them to herself. Her legs are getting long. She doesn't remember having such long legs in her previous life.

"Do you have any siblings, Itadori-san?"

Sakura momentarily pauses her outrageous slurping to answer the boy painfully reminiscent of Lee. "Do nephews count?" She returns, careful not to shatter the glass in her hands when her older brother comes to mind. There hasn't been a day since she hasn't thought about him, yet the resurfacing memory stings. If she ever finds Kaori, she's killing them.

(She remembers the cruel taste of failure well.

Weeks upon weeks, and not a lick of her 'sister-in-law' anywhere.)

Nanami seems to have given up on telling his friend not to ask invasive questions. Rather than the exasperated look she's gotten a good eyeful of the past hour, his expression smooths into something akin to morbid curiosity. "Nephew?" He prompts.

She smiles at the suspicious look on his face. "Yeah. That's sort of like a sibling, right?"

"Sure! How old is he?" Haibara asks.

"He's four," Sakura answers with an unintentionally compassionate tone, setting the glass of peach juice down to nibble on her turkey sandwich.

Somehow, that answer softens the blonde. "He must be a handful," Nanami drawls, side-eyeing his friend.

Haibara bites his dorayaki, oblivious.

Sakura shrugs. "Aren't all toddlers? He's a charming boy, though."

Nanami takes another sip of his Boba drink.

Haibara swallows. "Is that who the extra bag is for?" He indicates the bag of dulcets just to the side, toward the edge of the table.

Sakura nods. "He wanted a treat, so I thought to get him some."

Haibara pauses. "Wait. Is he waiting for you? Oh no! We must've taken up your time—!"

She lifts a hand and waves him off. "It's okay. He's helping my father cook at home. He's distracted enough," She lies. In truth, Yuuji's at home with her shadow clone. She doesn't know what's going on in there. Poor Clone-Sakura got stuck with a hyperactive toddler pulling the scalp off of her. When the memories travel over to her later, she'll have fun (not at all) rehearsing the tiring events she missed out on.

Haibara smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Does that mean you're free for the day?"

Sakura considers him. "That depends. Are you asking me out on a date?" She boldly intones, ready to shoot him down politely. As precious as Haibara is, Sakura feels off at the thought of dating him. Not because he's like a second Lee (though the trauma with that memory might add to it) per se. She's still recovering from the heavy losses of her previous life, and dating at such a young age when she's so busy is just... Well, Sakura isn't ready.

She might never be ready.

"No," Nanami turns her down unintentionally, but Sakura isn't bothered.

She relaxes in her seat. "Oh. Then are we just hanging out? I think I can kill some time," She adds encouragingly, watching Haibara's dejected expression lift into one of hope.

Sakura hopes he doesn't take what she said the wrong way. She's willing to indulge in what they so badly want to disclose to her, and Sakura suspects it has something to do with the two dead students she encountered some time ago. But that's it. If they're here to waste her time, there are better things to do: such as finding ridiculous clothes she can fit on Yuuji for cute baby pictures.

Or you can make friends, Forehead. Ino's voice warbles concerningly in her head.

Sakura dismisses it.

"I think we can hang out, yeah," Haibara urges as he stands, eagerly collecting his pile of trash.

Sakura isn't rude enough to remind him that it was his idea in the first place. Poor fellow must be excited. Sakura doesn't understand what suddenly made her so special in Haibara's eyes, but she supposes hanging out with a pretty girl sounds nice. That's what Ino has told her before, at least. It took years for that mindset to set in on Sakura.

Jeez, I sound shallow, Sakura internally scolds herself, hoping her scowl won't display itself on her countenance. She's not trying to assume anything about Haibara, but that's a tough thing to do when the thought of his obvious infatuation makes her nervous. She's a Shinobi and the habit of keeping an eye out for any intention is impossible to shake off. If it makes her nervous, that's all she'll think about until the problem resolves itself.

She doesn't want to hurt Haibara if he asks her out. Her mind is... it's not well, okay? She's just not a healthy partner for Lee—Haibara.

It's Haibara. Haibara Yuu.

Sakura angrily scratches the back of her head.

You guys just met, calm down.

Sakura suspires. This is like Sasuke, all over again.

Sasuke is gone, remember?

Sakura angrily shakes the thoughts about her late husband from her mind.

Nanami grabs Haibara's forearm and yanks him down. "Sit down. She hasn't finished eating," He chides, picking up a stray litter when Haibara fumbles and drops a used napkin.

"It's okay," She stuffs the unfinished turkey sandwich she was too distracted to eat into the plastic bag and downs the rest of the peach juice, "I'll finish this later. I ate breakfast, anyway." Her head swivels to check the wall clock perched just above the chalkboard obstructing the way to the bathroom. It reads 12:57 PM. Huh. She thought it was earlier than that.

"It's lunch," Nanami deadpans.

She ignores him and stands, gathering her items. That's fine. She can eat later, with Yuuji. That's preferable. She just needs to get their conversation over with. It won't hurt to stay a bit more after that, but that depends on how talking to them will go. Either this ends in a bloodbath or two, new joyous friendships.

Upon being ignored, she hears Nanami sigh and sees his hand tug on Haibara's sleeve with an irritated, "Come on".

They both head to throw away their trash, shoving the recyclable items in their orderly selection. Sakura does the same, smiling to herself. Such an unexpected concept of refurnishing plastic and cans to make a healthier environment. Konoha never had anything like this.

When they make their way out of the bakery in a gaggle of three, Sakura takes a good eyeful at the back of Haibara's head. The hair lacks shine. There are slight swoops outward too, rather than inward. The hair is shorter from the back, too. A little like a grown-out undercut.

Nothing like Lee, she assures herself.

Nothing like Lee...

She's not sure why it makes her sad.

[. . .]

The three of them end up in a forest. It's not a desolate forest—it's more like a park, though the selection of the new environment feels ominous, considering there are more opaque trees than the raunchous beauty of sunrays filtering through the fluttering leaves. There are also no people. Just a few squirrels, maybe a snake slithering at a distance. Or is it a stick? She can't tell, it's so far.

Sakura raises an eyebrow at the duo when they turn around to look at her. They all stop by a bench surrounded by nice, pink flowers. Chrysanthemums. For a murder spot, it sure does look nice. "This better not be a kidnapping attempt," She drones, scuffing her shoe into the dirt a little too hard. A solid piece of grass goes flying.

The two boys comically follow it with their eyes until it lands.

Awkward, suffocating, silence settles.

Sakura looks at both of them expectantly, waiting for their words. She finds it funny that they're sweating it out to tell her. She's not insane. She won't hurt them if they say something wrong, probably. As long as it doesn't involve Yuuji and her father, then she's fine.

Nanami opens his mouth—

"We know you're a sorcerer!" Haibara blurts, beating whatever Nanami has to say to it.

Sakura blinks, baffled.

To his side, Nanami sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face.

"And we know you've been clearing out all the curses in Sendai City!" Haibara continues to pour out in nervous tandem, and Sakura has no idea how to respond.

"Moreso the Miyagi Prefecture in its entirety," Nanami adds in, unhappily clocking Haibara on the head as he addresses her seriously. Haibara rubs his skull with a hiss, pouting at Nanami for his inhumanity.

Sakura just stands there. "Um..." She glances around, searching for other people ready to laugh at her to see if it's a prank. "What's a sorcerer?" She asks, frowning when she finds nobody lurking behind trees or otherwise. So they aren't just saying nonsense?

Nanami widens his eyes. "You're kidding."

Sakura shakes her head. "No?"

"So you took down all those curses just because you could?" Haibara gapes.

Sakura shrugs. "If that's what you call those eldritch, blob-looking creatures that exude negative energy then... yes?" She won't tell them of the ones so hidden that a normal civilian would've died instantly from psychological torture manifested physically, just in case they're like her. (Good samaritans helping their fellow neighbor.) Boys like them should be having fun. It'd be unfortunate if they ended up like the two corpses she'd found before.

The silence after is strained with disbelief.

Sakura has no idea why. "Was... Was I not supposed to?" She can't help but inquire fretfully, crinkling the bags of food. "They were attacking civilians and I couldn't just sit there—"

"So you don't know what a cursed technique is? At all?" Haibara interrupts.

Sakura crosses her arms. "No."

"Wow," Haibara breathes, looking at her with a newfound adoration. "You're incredible!"

Sakura shrinks. "Um. Thank you," She mutters, smiling ruefully. Why is he saying she's incredible? She doesn't have whatever a 'Cursed Technique' is. Is he implying her strength? Because that's a Tsunade Forbidden Jutsu thing. Not whatever it is he said.

She hates being this anxious. This new body of hers exudes too much of it.

Nanami is eyeing her up and down. She doesn't call him out on it because he looks ruminative rather than perverse. "...So it seems my suspicions were for naught," He mutters, appearing considerably more relaxed than before. "You have no idea what you are, but you go around eradicating curses like it's child's play. You must not be aware that you've become rather famous in the Jujutsu world."

Sakura remains silent. She has no idea what those terms mean.

"We were sent to recruit you," Haibra buds in, smiling. This makes more questions pop into her head. "You were only picked up about a month or two ago by a security camera behind this one place Geto-senpai likes to eat at. We were already looking for you for like, ever, because of the sudden decrease in curse activity over the years, and then boom! We find you here. All thanks to that security camera too, because we found out what you looked like!" Haibara claps his hands, excited.

Sakura tugs at her hair. "That's..."

"Lucky? I know, right?"

"Weird," She deadpans.

Haibara's smile freezes on his face.

"I've been stalked," She states rather than asks, crossing her arms and addressing Nanami mostly, to explain.

Nanami looks awkward, suddenly. "For lack of a better term, yes. You were stalked."

Sakura scowls. She appreciates his honesty. "That's incredibly rude, you know. Is privacy just completely foreign to you?"

Nanami clearly doesn't know what to say. His constipated expression says it all. It's nearly enough of a face to make Sakura cut him some slack, but her anger wins in the end. She thought she was being sneaky this whole damn time, and here they come to tell her she's been blasting out her business loudly for the entire damn world to hear!? She'll have to move somewhere else. Her position has been compromised and who knows what the government is like here. She can probably take them on in a fight, but her peace is obstructed. They'll never stop chasing after her now, not unless she goes on to get rid of them throughout this lifetime. She just wanted to live her life with Yuuji, damn it. There's always one fight or another she has to fucking deal with.

She's unaware she pulls a put-upon expression, pout and all.

How will Yuuji take this new life plan, though? And her father is barely making ends meet, so their money situation isn't the best. It'll take her a few months to save up some coin if she sends out Shadow Clones to look for work. There's so much to do with so little time, now. Ugh. But... perhaps she can kill everyone that's—?

"Hey, wait, we weren't the ones stalking you!" Haibara blushes profusely.

Nanami sniffs disdainfully. "Yuu's right. We weren't stalking you. We were sent to go find you at the Bakery since you frequent that area. Someone else reported you, not us."

Wow. Great.

A dark look must pass over her face because she notices them stiffen. She quickly relaxes her features into a more complacent expression, thankfully submerging some of the hostile atmosphere back into the cold ground. "Who?" Maybe killing them off is best. Not Nanami and Haibara, she kind of likes them. Perhaps their boss? If they're an enemy, of course. Sakura isn't insane.

Right?

Haibara exchanges a worrying glance with Nanami. Nanami pinches his nose. "We don't know. Probably a sensor. You leave residue in the thousands."

Sensor? A chakra sensor? But wait, they called the power cursed energy. What does that even mean?

This is hurting her head.

"I'm so lost," She admits, rubbing her temple. It accidentally prompts her to dispel the henge that hides her purple diamond, so when she looks up to ask them to elaborate on the situation so out of proportion, they're staring at it weirdly. She puts her hands on her hips indignantly. "What are you staring at?"

Nanami immediately averts his gaze but Haibara doesn't have his practice in decorum. "You have a purple diamond on your forehead..." Haibara trails off, hand on his chin. He looks awed. "It looks very pretty on you. Um. Not that you don't look pretty already, of course! You're very petty. Pretty, I mean! Oh, dear," Haibara deflates, covering his face.

Nanami looks severely unimpressed. "I apologize on his behalf."

Sakura picks at the razor edges of the paper bags. "That's... okay? Um. I have many questions." Okay. Haibara gets a pass for being a cute buffoon. Nanami is on thin ice, though.

Nanami nods at her to continue.

So she does. "One," She lifts a hand and juts out a finger, "What is a sorcerer? Two," Another finger, "What is a Cursed Technique? And three," Her ring finger, "What exactly do you mean when you say you want to recruit me?" She pauses, considering them, then interrupts, "Wait. I feel the means to add that I'm not going to harm either of you. I'm sorry if my killing intent's been putting you on edge. It's hard to turn off when I'm thinking so hard. I like you guys too much to harm you," She says kindly, though it sounds bad.

Very bad.

Nanami gives her a weird look. "Okay. Good to know." She fucking blew it, didn't she? She's never been one for making friends with boys. They're all either wacky, emotionally repressed/distant, or just plain idiots.

Sakura smiles sheepishly. "Not that I'm a murderer! I only do that—"

"Do you want your questions answered or not?" Nanami seethes.

Sakura clamps her mouth shut and nods wordlessly.

He explains.

[. . .]

Sakura arrives home, silent.

Her father angles his head back from his position near the sink of the kitchen to look at her with a cocked, cranky eyebrow at her stunned stillness, waiting for her to greet him. "How was school?" He asks and returns to his pliant task once he sees she's not a zombie and can move just fine. It takes a few minutes for his question to catch up while Sakura sluggishly approaches him. She suppresses a wince when she looks at the clock.

It's almost 7 PM. He knows she has no extracurriculars for today. Or the day after this one.

"Have fun doing drugs?"

His second question has no offensive air, but there is a touch of concern, which Sakura thinks is sad her father hides using insults or stupid, witty comments about all else involved in her life. He's a tough man shamed of his emotions from birth. Sometimes Sakura wishes he wasn't, but most of the time she's fine with it. He's a good father when it's needed.

"You're being ridiculous," Sakura mutters in lieu of a response, taking off her backpack and plopping it unceremoniously against the wall. It sags further and slumps onto the bookcase underneath the small television playing a coffee jelly ad.

Her father merely resumes washing the dishes. Odd behavior, coming from him. Usually by now, he would've given another insult about her lack of manners. She's not paying attention to that, though. As of right now, her mind is occupied with other things, compartmentalizing the new information given to her just earlier in the day.

The concept of Curses, as those creatures are called, and Cursed Energy that is honed inside an individual named 'Sorcerer' by officials in Jujutsu is a big thing, in her opinion. She's never heard of that before. Jujutsu Tech, disguised as a prestigious school, has sent her a letter of recommendation delivered by Nanami himself, an object that torches the insides of her backpack. She hasn't opened it.

She might never open it. She may have told Nanami and Haibara that she would think about it and give her answer in a week, but... It's a big change, she thinks. She'll need to move out of this place—away from her father. Away from Yuuji.

She doesn't think she can do that.

But it's not like I'm always home anyway, She mourns, biting her lip. She leaves a shadow clone more often than she'd like. It's different, though. Most of the time she's the one that stays home to take care of Yuuji while she sends Shadow Clones somewhere else. She won't be able to do that in Jujutsu Tech. She can't send Shadow Clones for their 'exorcise missions' as they call it. They'll pop with one wrong move. If someone gets hurt, a damn clone won't have the chakra for it.

I'll just have to run back home, she decides with determination, punching her fist into her hand. Who cares if it's cities away? She can cover that distance with no problem.

She smiles to herself.

Meanwhile, her father waits patiently for her to reply. So she rewards him with an honest answer for not interrupting her unnecessarily anxious thoughts. "I made friends."

Wasuke whips his head so fast that Sakura warns him of whiplash, eyebrows drifting high on his head. "Are you for real?"

Sakura scowls at him with crossed arms. What's with the disbelief? "Yes. I'm for real."

"Bullshit."

"Don't curse, papa."

Wasuke waves her off with soap-covered hands. "Don't care. Brat's asleep. Somehow. Anyway. There's no way. You hate people just like me. That's why you've always been my favorite because people suck. Only my wife's been the best thing to ever happen to me. You're like, the fourth."

She gawks at his audacity. "The fourth? Who the heck is before me?"

"Money and food. As the Gods intended, freakchild."

"You're so mean," Sakura puffs her cheeks playfully, coming over to punch his arm. He grunts from the blow and tries to swipe at her head in vengeful retaliation, but she ducks. "I'm not lying, though. It's two boys. Their names are Nanami Kento and Haibara Yuu. They go to a school in Tokyo," She tells him vaguely, letting his second hit connect on her shoulder. She brushes it off.

Wasuke wrinkles his nose. "Great. I better not be seeing your little boyfriends around. If you're gonna cheat on one, take the drama away from me. I don't wanna hear teenagers crying on my doorstep."

Sakura gives him a dry look. "That's horrible advice. Also, they're not my boyfriends." She leans forward, intending to take the chore away from him, but she draws back with a rubbing hiss when he bonks her head.

"The Gods have answered some of my prayers. And do I look like a saint to you? No. That moral stuff is for saints. Me? I'm like a runaway model."

Sakura sniffs, trying to suppress a laugh while removing the bubbles off her abused cranium. "You're so ugly."

Her father's retort is quick, "Okay, then that means you're ugly too."

Sakura sighs. "Really though, I made friends. Sort of. They're weird, but I like them."

Wasuke gives her a suspicious look. "How weird?"

Sakura sweats. "Ah. Like, putting on shoes wrong weird?" She lies. Her father doesn't seem the type to know about what sorcerers are and all that. She wants to ask because he might be ancient enough to know, but a bad feeling nags in the back of her head. Her father might react as badly as he had when he found out Jin stayed married to that Kaori woman. For now, she'll have to lie low. As she has been doing since she came to be here.

"I can't believe my daughter is making friends with degenerates," Wasuke grumbles after her response, putting a soaped plate on top of another.

Sakura deadpans at him. "They're not that bad."

"You stayed out, for, what? Two days?"

"It's been four hours, papa."

"That's what I said. Two days."

She's not going to win this dispute. "Fine. Two days. Whatever."

"Don't give me attitude!" He chides, bumping his hip hard with hers. She doesn't budge. "Freak."

"Stop calling me a freak, papa. You're hurting my feelings." No, he's not hurting her feelings. She doesn't care if her dad calls her names. He means well, and Sakura is trained in the art of Tsundere (Sasuke) so she knows when he means an insult or not. It does get kind of annoying deciphering things, though. But she's not his therapist.

Wasuke looks so done with her. "Just don't do anything stupid with them boys, you hear? Men are not to be trusted."

Sakura lifts a brow. "But you're a man."

"I don't count. I'm your father! I'm the best damn thing in the world."

"More like the worst."

"What's with you today, eh?" Her father demands, narrowing his eyes at her. He runs his hands under the water to rid them of soap. "Don't tell me that after one day their bad influence has rubbed off on you."

Sakura allows a sneaky grin to form. "No. All this attitude comes from you."

Wasuke nods once, fierce. "Damn right," He pauses, considering her carefully. Sakura waits with an open expression. Whatever he must see in her encourages him to say what's in his mind. "You tell me if those weird friends of yours start bullying you, got it? I'll set 'em straight," He lifts a fist and waves it around threateningly. His knuckles are bruised.

Something in her cracks, just a bit. Sakura puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly at him. "Thanks, papa. Don't worry, okay? I can beat them up."

Wasuke rolls his shoulders to shake her comfort off. "Good." He looks into the sink again, "Now go away and finish your homework. I'm not about to cut ya some slack just because you got home late. Going out late has consequences!"

She puts her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll clean the house tomorrow, alright? To make up for making you do it today. Also so you don't have to get up early."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Sakura shakes her head, fond, and leaves to go check on Yuuji.

(When she's gone, a father throws away an extra meal well prepared and eats in silence.)

[. . .]

When Sakura quietly enters her brother's nursery, her expression immediately softens upon seeing Yuuji standing in his crib.

He dances energetically from side to side with heavy, joyful intakes of breath. They sound evil when his eyes catch her presence, and if possible, his bright expression furthers, prompting his actions to become more aggressive. His grip on the wooden, reinforced lined wall of the crib (that she's had to fix about sixty-seven times in counting) becomes strong enough to crack, rattling profusely in time with his giggles.

Maybe it's time she gets him a toddler bed, actually. She too would want to escape.

"I've been trying to get him to sleep," Her clone informs her from her seated position near the window when she slides the door shut. She sounds so over it that it makes Sakura snort at how eerily similar she sounds to her father.

Coming up to the crib she'll replace with a bed soon, Yuuji extends his arms up at her, making grabby motions. "How's he been doing?" Her smile is huge as she secures him in her arms. She shouldn't be entertaining this behavior so late at night or else he'll get used to it, but she hasn't seen Yuuji all day. She can afford some spoiling.

Her clone shuts a workbook closed, finished. "See for yourself," It answers before dispelling.

Sakura stiffens for five seconds when the clone's memories integrate into her psyche.

And immediately, she begins to rub her scalp. "You're going to be scary one day, aren't you?" She coos, bouncing him around in playful turns. Her little boy is very smart. It makes her heart warm when he so easily recognizes a clone from her real self.

"Yes, the smartest!" Yuuji laughs, slapping her face.

It hurts, so Sakura stops twirling, gently grabbing his bundles of strength. "No hitting, okay sweetheart? You'll break my jaw," She tells him kindly, letting go of his tiny fists and preferring to use the spare hand to run it lovingly through his fluffy tufts of hair. He doesn't listen and smacks her again, but this time he accompanies it with a snuggle against her neck. Whether it's an escape attempt to keep her from pinching his cheeks or not, Sakura will pretend he's gotten away with it.

"Sakura is sooo ugly," He giggles, and Sakura's eye twitches. Has he been listening in on her conversations with her father?

He's lucky he's so cute. Her father, however... She's going to exchange some words.

Sighing, she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, making him squeak with glee. "Do you want me to read you a story, honey?" She then asks softly, walking across the room toward the bookshelf filled with children's book collections. She's very proud of the seventy-two she's managed to acquire. She hopes she'll be able to get him to sleep on the tenth book this time.

On the way there, as Yuuji expresses eager agreement to a great cause by kneeing her developing boobs again, she passes a mirror.

Sakura stops.

Her purple diamond has been on display the entire time.

"Oh dear," She whispers to herself.

Yuuji decides right then and there that it's the perfect time to rip a few strands off her head.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"In my restless soul, I picture you holding my heart again."

[. . .]

Chapter 4

A Stitch in the Brain

[. . .]

"Itadori-san."

Sakura stops caressing the azure petals of what she recognizes as the flower Morning Glory to address the stern call coming from behind her. "Ah, yes?" She stands sheepishly while brushing off the bits of dirt that cling to her jeans, giving an uncertain smile at Nanami's deadpan look.

"What are you doing?"

Sakura glances back at the colorfully assorted flowerbed situated by the gates, tracing the lighter shades at the tips with her eyes in deep thought. "I was admiring the flowers. They're lovely," She replies, thinking about Ino. She would have loved the mauve shades powdered with magenta.

The unbidden thought causes her rapid grief, but Nanami's exasperated huff soon smushes it.

She regards him questionably. "You can do that later. We have somewhere to be," He grunts.

Sakura nods meekly, shooting him an apologetic smile as she jogs up to walk with him.

In response, he begins to lead.

It hasn't been long since they arrived at Jujutsu Tech. Six days after meeting Nanami and Haibara for the first time, Sakura officially decided to attend, figuring that learning more about the odd powers she possesses, with the bonus of saving lives and the money benefits it brings to the table, is an opportunity too good to pass up.

The paperwork needs time to process, as Sakura filled it in two nights ago after dialing Nanami's given phone number to inform him to meet up. That's why Nanami is here: so that he may take her there to turn the paperwork in. Sakura would've thought he could've done that himself, but she needs a physical evaluation, too.

Which brings her to the present.

"Thank you for helping me," Sakura tells him earnestly, idly admiring the bits of nature she can see crawling around the dark architecture. It took them a few hours to get here—on Sakura's part anyway since she'd run here and nearly got lost thanks to her tumultuous thoughts directing her elsewhere. Nanami had already been here, waiting, considerate of her state (thinking she'd traveled by train at the asscrack of dawn) enough to offer to take her bag.

(Upon being told she'd be fine, he informed her that if she needed anything, to let him know. A kind form of respect despite him being a stranger—to allow the other to speak out their limitations.)

She hadn't corrected him.

Her father stayed home, so she figured today would be a good time to leave Yuuji in his hands while she took care of business. Just in case, she left a hidden shadow clone henged as a potted plant with her remaining family. The teleporting seal remains in the works, reminiscent of the Fourth's Hiraishin. Soon she won't need to rely on a Shadow Clone to protect her family.

If she's lucky, she'll be able to go home right after school.

She can only hope. She may have a photographic memory, or close to resembling one, but a lot of her memories of her past life are... fuzzy at best. Her body knows the stretches and moves, instinct by now, and that's fine. Fighting, it seems, will never cease. But the other hand, personal memories, are gradually dissipating. Her mind has been stuffed so much with her new life that old memories are fighting to stay.

(She spends every night sobbing her sorrows into her pillow, terrified of the inevitable.

She doesn't want to forget her daughter's face.)

She never got the chance to learn the Hiraishin the proper way. Naruto knew it vaguely at best, practiced expertly by his hand regardless, but that's because the blockhead claimed 'I don't think. I do' so his teaching methods were... mediocre. But she understood some of it. The gist of it, exactly. She never found out if she did figure it out the way Naruto intended, because by that point Sasuke had returned, and she—

She left.

And fell in love all over again. And felt free. Loved, freely. Created her greatest treasure.

She sighs wistfully, her heart clenching.

She misses him. Both of them. Her stupid, enigmatic comrade in arms and her dearest husband.

And her daughter.

Sage. Her daughter, most of all. She is all she has ever wanted.

I hope you're prospering, my little girl.

Sakura inhales shakily.

She shouldn't think about them. Not anymore. It's not good for her. Her greatest fear has come true, and now she must live with it. That's how life is. She cannot undo something left unsaid.

Sage, she would've loved to die. Again, and be lucky enough to watch their lives continue as a ghost. It would've been the least she could have done to be there with them in soul because as it stands, she has given it to them and so much more. But she isn't a ghost. Not physically.

Now, she must bear the weight of her memories as whisps of a life not so perfect. Of a life that carried everything she had ever wanted.

Nanami briefly glances her way at the staggering breath she takes.

She quickly shoots him a small smile, hoping it's enough of a false composure that he doesn't ask questions. She puts up a henge just in case, feeling vulnerable when her eyes start to burn and her throat closes up, raw with despair.

He looks away without much fanfare, and Sakura allows a small handful of tears to fall from her well of sorrow.

She must be a bad person.

Here she is, blessed with a life she never asked for, given a father who works hard and a nephew who thinks the world of her. Yet she remains unsalvaged from the tragedy of what used to be, thinking back on what she had and unsatisfied with what she had to start over with. Her brother is gone, dead, likely. She has never met her mother here, and her father doesn't know how to express himself without hiding behind the facade of innocent banter. Her nephew is left without both of his parents, in the soiled care of hands that have killed and healed.

She continues to love. She loves them all, loves them most, because they are hers to have.

But she misses her father. With coral-colored locks that stood on end. Her mother, with vibrant green eyes like hers and blonde hair the shade of the petals of sunflowers. She misses Ino, with her firey personality and kind touches. She misses Naruto, his jokes, his laugh. She misses her sensei and his stupid book he never put down. She misses Hinata and the kindness they mutually shared. She misses the Rookie nine. Shizune. Tsunade.

She misses Neji too, for all its worth after four decades since his death.

She yearns for her husband. His pain, his promises long kept.

And her daughter most of all—her cherished gift of the moon—blessed with her father's looks she has held and caressed many a time throughout the restless hours of the dark, held closely in the vice of her bleeding heart.

She longs for her old life.

But she will never get it back.

"If you're not up for it, we can reschedule."

Sakura breaks out of her dissociative yearning to look back at Nanami in confusion.

He has stopped walking just a few paces behind her, arms crossed and gaze blank. He stands in front of a pathway that leads to one of the large buildings she saw at a distance earlier. How long have they walked?

"I'm alright," She assures quietly, looking around briefly before walking back to him.

He doesn't look convinced. "I called your name several times and went ignored."

She wipes her eyes. They're damp at best. "Sorry about that. I got lost in thought," She admits vaguely, hearing him huff.

"If you don't want to do this, that's fine. You're not obligated to."

"I came all this way," She shrugs, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She notices him follow the movement. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have."

He doesn't say anything. Rather he exhales tiredly and turns away, evidently annoyed at what he assumes are her contradicting actions and words for this job. She sniffs the gathered snot accumulating in her nose. Part of her feels self-conscious at his irritation, but the rest of her doesn't care. He can assume all he wants just as long as he doesn't meddle in her life story.

Pity is the last thing she wants right now.

She follows Nanami inside silently.

[. . .]

Second-year teacher and recently appointed Principal of Jujutsu Tech Masamichi Yaga is her evaluator.

In the midst of the freshly air-conditioned classroom, she sits on a lone chair in the front row, staring at the paper test in her hands handed to her by the stoic man. Nanami has long since gone off to do his own thing after dropping her off, assuring her that the papers will be looked at by another person to see if she can be ingressed as quickly as possible. He mentioned that Haibara had wanted to say hello to her in the usual deadpan she's beginning to realize is his default, but she hadn't been able to answer in kind because Yaga—or Yaga-sensei, soon—had spoken up at her arrival.

Nanami had promptly left after looking back at her, and her words had died on her tongue.

That's fine, she told herself. He has places to be.

Currently, through the window, she spots his blonde hair entering another section of the school.

"You have an hour," Yaga-sensei grunts and Sakura looks up at him in time to see him place a green, stitched doll on the floor in front of her.

She blinks, confused at the toy (and at the test, because she hadn't been aware she needed to take one too), but ultimately decides not to question it. People have odd traits. Who knows? It may be a camera of some kind or something to keep her in check. Why else would he put something so weird there?

Not a lot of things catch her off-guard these days.

Training her eyes on the single sheet of paper again, they trace over the only question.

Why do you want to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer?

She carefully composes her outward appearance into a perfect blankness. This may be a trick question to get her to react negatively, or it may not be. Either way, Sakura figures there's something more to the test that she must do. As Kakashi-sensei always said, Look Underneath the Underneath.

Her heart makes a pang at the memory of him as she reaches for her pencil.

She'll write a detailed essay. It isn't hard for her to configure five separate sections about what the school, the teacher, and the students want to hear. She will include her sincere answer as well, and the additional, objective response will serve as a neutral touch to her conclusion should her previous combined paragraphs prove unsatisfactory.

Just as the lead tip of her pencil touches the paper, she feels a brush of wind tickle her nose.

Gotcha.

The snap efficiency of her hand snatching the green bear-like doll in a vice grip just before it hits her face makes her blink.

I need to answer and fight this?

The doll's stubby hands erupt with energy that she takes as an invitation for action, so she sets her pencil down calmly to use her other hand and capture the doll's limbs so that it doesn't move.

It struggles incessantly with greater power she would have labored to control years ago, but doesn't now. Her strength is nearly at when it was at her prime. Perhaps more, soon, if she's admitted to this school. She brings the creature into her arms and adds a vicious amount of chakra into it, not so much, but just enough that feels right. Balanced. The hand she uses to keep its limbs coiled pumps the energy inside, seeking to calm the cursed energy that spasms.

She watches, hawk-like, as the persisting vehemence of energy calms. The doll, nearly cute in its oddness, slowly goes still until it becomes a sleeping babe.

The intimate action nearly causes her to puke.

But she doesn't, and though her limbs shake and her concentration nearly breaks, she eases the little creature gently onto the desk next to her, trying her best to see past the flashing images of a baby Sarada in its place.

(She was going to rip it apart, initially.

But holding it, feeling its weight so similar to an infant she held three decades ago, paralyzed her so severely that the thought of violence left her dead.)

The energy wants to spike.

But she has perfect chakra control.

It remains motionless.

Sleeping.

She looks away with a swallow of bile and picks up her pencil again, unable to will herself to look at the man still in the room.

This is a test. She only hopes she passed it.

The lead presses onto the paper again and this time, she writes to her heart's content.

[. . .]

Yaga-sensei stares at her paper (papers, more so, because she requested more) for a long time.

Enough to make Sakura very nervous, but she makes no show about that. Instead, she sits primly on the school desk, analyzing the room and every detail it can give her. It doesn't tell her much, besides that the back desks have probably never been used, contrary to the worn-down chips of the wood on the front row ones. It feels very empty despite the residue of all types of cursed energy, though it appears refined, so she thinks it belongs to the sorcerers that have gone in and out of here.

The chalkboard is dusty with old chalk, the chalk itself bent at a used angle and half of its original size. Or maybe it's small and has been used only a handful of times. She can picture Yaga-sensei using it with his big hands. Something tells her that he has an interest in cute things.

She wonders how many students attend this school, for it to be so empty. Has that chalk been replaced at all this year? Classes must have started, surely. Or does Jujutsu Tech start differently? Much later in the year?

She sighs internally. There was little information about this school for her to stake out. Nanami had merely given a paper for her to put her information in, and she had, very reluctantly, though she made sure to alter her address. And how many family members she had. And other factors she hadn't wanted to include lest they have an advantage over her if they ever decided to turn against her.

Old habits die hard, and she wonders if they'll accept her paper if they figure out she's lying.

That's fine. That's what Genjutsu is for.

"Itadori-san."

Sakura looks up.

The man looks discreetly impressed. He measures her with his eyes, narrowing slightly as he sets her answered test down on the oak wood of the desk. He shifts his attention to the doll, analyzing its sleeping form before regarding her again. "Do you have any questions?"

Many. "Some," She says, sitting up straighter.

He inclines his head for her to continue.

She juts out a finger, "What is the average class size?" Another, "How are behavior problems handled?" A third, "How do you support students' social and emotional development? And what measures are in place to ensure a safe and inclusive environment for all that attend?" She breathes in as Yaga-sensei's eyebrows slowly raise into his hairline at the following questions that blurt out of her mouth, "And may I have a map where I can find key locations like the office, library, cafeteria, and class schedules? Do you also have any extracurricular activities? Are there any school traditions, and what's the best way to get involved in the community that'll benefit me?"

She purses her lips, both hands raised and keeping count of her questions.

Does she have any more?

She looks down at her hands, thinking.

She perks. "What are the dorms like?" She looks back up at the man who has gone into a stunned silence. Abruptly self-conscious, Sakura scratches her wrist uncertainly. "Ah. Sorry. I like to be thorough." She pauses, gauging his reaction.

Yaga-sensei huffs, but the very tiny quirk of his lips, of approval, on his face is enough to bring a smile out of her.

There is hope to help her family yet.

[. . .]

Nanami Kento has no particular thoughts on Itadori Sakura.

Besides that she is an objectively attractive girl with a terrifyingly strong physical prowess (as evidenced by the unnatural amounts of residue she has left in the curses extermination), Nanami doesn't find much interest outside of that. It's not because he doesn't like her—he's neutral in that regard until he gets to know her—but because overall, his interactions with others aren't sublime at all, nor something he generally cares enough for.

Based on first impressions, he'd considered her a suspicious individual with dual motives, questioning why her power was nonexistent. Surely someone detailed to have a grandiose expedition of cursed energy should be radiating it, no? It took Nanami months to practice hiding his, and even now, he still has problems. Haibara can hide it easier because he has less cursed energy to work with but for someone like her? It's impressive.

He'd thought her nice act was a farce to get their guard down and get the jump on them. Nanami was on edge the entire time embarrassingly enough, and he only calmed down after he explained the workings of sorcery and the like, discovering that her confusion was at least, genuine.

And also because she hadn't killed them.

That, especially, is the biggest factor.

The second biggest was when he'd gotten a call from her just days later, asking him if she could attend Jujutsu Tech.

The call went smoothly. He approved of the time and held his tongue from asking why she was waking so early, and how she would supposedly get to the school by 8 AM when the trains typically stopped running from 1 to Five AM. If she were to take it, it'd take her two hours to get here. But Nanami decided not to think about it—mostly because he assumed she might've booked a hotel a day before and was making the hasty call last minute.

Nanami does not like procrastinators.

But he didn't tell her that when she arrived at the exact time she mentioned. At the very least, he thought as he watched her from his peripherals on their walk to the room she'd take her test in, she's punctual.

Talking with her was... awkward. She's quiet. She also looked very serious, eerily expressionless. He'd tried to be polite because she'd made the effort to get here, but she had refused, and that was that. Nanami assumed she was of the independent type and respected her wishes.

Then he thought of her as a bit of an airhead because she had walked on and ignored him when he'd called out her name more times than he would've liked.

But then she'd turned around, and a flicker of something that looked like utter despair caught him off-guard.

It was gone as soon as he saw it.

Because it wasn't his place to speak about it, he said nothing and left for his next class after dropping her information off at the front desk.

He met up with Haibara when he entered.

"Sakura's here?" His friend happily asked, leaning toward him. "Did you tell her I said hi?"

"Yes," Nanami told him blandly.

"Did she say it back?"

"I don't know. I left before I could hear her response," He told him bluntly because he's not a stinky liar. Gojo can shove his idiotic, childish insults up his ass. He had hoped then and there—no, dreaded—that Sakura would happen to meet him somehow today. But Gojo and Geto weren't around, currently. They were off on a long-time mission. Something about the Star Plasma Vessel he probably shouldn't know about, but does, because Shoko is nosy and Nanami is secretly even nosier; he's just too proud to admit it.

Now finished (and choosing to wait for Haibara to finish his work so that they can leave), he steps out and is somewhat surprised to see her walking out with Yaga-sensei at her heels. She doesn't notice him at first, or maybe she does because she makes a hesitant glance backward and likely purposefully skips his spot to continue speaking to the man, but he doesn't care.

Nanami lets out a careful breath and turns away.

If she's uncomfortable with him, that's fair. He has been nothing but hostile. Somewhat.

But Nanami is indifferent to her opinion of him, overall. She doesn't know him. He doesn't know her. Only time will tell if she will become a friend or not.

In the end, they don't talk.

Nanami stays rooted on the spot, Sakura leaves, and the eyes he feels on his back are dutifully ignored.

"Hey?"

Nanami lets out a breath and faces Haibara standing at the door. "What?"

He's not looking at him. "Is that Sakura?"

"No," Nanami lies.

Haibara raises an eyebrow at him at the tone he takes. "Are you in one of your moods again?"

"Are we going to lunch or not?"

Haibara doesn't argue. He never argues when food is involved.

For that, Nanami lets out a breath of relief.

[. . .]

Sakura arrives home around seven in the evening with an approved application detailing her dorm room, her classes, and the date she begins. Until her tailored clothes concurring with her size are finished, she'll remain to finish up any loose ends of paperwork regarding her school transfer. Yaga advised her to put the fake school name rather than the real one, so she had, keeping secret note that Jujutsu Tech was meant to be hidden.

Her backpack feels heavier than ever.

But she has a bit of hope now knowing that she will get paid for all the curses she gets rid of. Yaga-sensei told her that her physical evaluation wouldn't be done until all the students were present. She'd have to wait about a month or so, an unofficial approximation.

She has a good feeling she'll pass with flying colors.

Stepping through her front door, she greets the mostly empty home with a smile that drops as soon as she sees her father. "Papa. Why are you on the floor?" She demands, wrinkling her nose at the odd smell permeating the living room.

Wasuke, covered in mud and other things she dares not name, stops pretending to be dead to open a single eye at her. "My evil grandson. What else?"

Sakura has no idea if he's trying to be silly. "Where is he?" She demands with a raised eyebrow, exchanging her shoes for slippers while dropping her backpack in the corner. Her shadow clone pops just as she reaches her father and helps him up, integrating memories of a giggling Yuuji that are immediately interrupted when her father lightly smacks her hand away.

"I can get up just fine," He grumps, and she shoots him an unimpressed look.

"Then why were you on the floor pretending to be an invalid?"

"A man can't be on the floor anymore? Kami forbid an old man enjoy his time."

She rolls her eyes. She has a faint idea of where Yuuji is. "Papa. Go clean up, you're getting mud all over the floor."

He grumbles unintelligible curses but ultimately does what she says, waving a fist at her back when he thinks she's not looking.

She leaves for the backyard soon after, unable to stop the smile that forms on her face when she spots Yuuji's pink tuft of hair peeking out of a sizable hole in the ground. "Yuuji-kun~" She coos, watching with a profound, adoring feeling as Yuuji pops his head out with an excited yip.

"Sakuraaa!" He exclaims with an erratic climb out of the ground and a dash to her person.

His tiny body collides with hers, bending forward to let her baby smush his face to her collarbone. He begins to rub his forehead there furiously, and she laughs as she picks him up, grimacing slightly when he coats her hair with mud. "Whoa there! Looking for treasure?" She humors him, reaching to lovingly pet his head.

(I'm doing all of this for you, Yuuji.)

Yuuji pulls a bit back to look at her. "Yeah, yeah! Grandpa said he put Manjuu in there for me!"

"Oh?" Sakura is going to have a serious talk with her father. Yuuji is riddled with dirt and based on her Shadow Clone memories, he's been at it for nearly five hours. He'd used a spoon instead of his tiny fists, and because he's Yuuji, his energy is eternal. Her father had been there for the first two, and then promptly left the four-year-old by himself, without thinking if he'd eat the dirt, or choke, or get sick, or get kidnapped— "That's very interesting. Have you found them yet?"

Yuuji deflates a little. "No..."

Sakura clicks her tongue. "How about I run you a bath and look for them myself? That way, when you're all clean, you get to eat your treats?" She hopes her hands aren't trembling.

Yuuji purses his lips. "You not gonna eat them, right?"

Sakura grins. "No, sweetheart. They're yours."

Yuuji nods firmly. "Okay then, good," He pauses, frowning, "I don't like baths."

"What if it's a bubble bath?" Sakura counters, already making her way inside. She sends a shadow clone to go to the local corner store discreetly just as she closes the back door to get Yuuji the food her father has lied about. Speaking of which, he's still in the bathroom showering. She'll have to wait for a bit until he's done.

"With cheese?" Yuuji asks, and Sakura blinks.

Cheese in the bathtub? What? "Cheese?"

"Yah. Cheese. Look," Yuuji points at the kitchen.

The pristine kitchen she left this morning is a dream compared to what she has now been cursed to lay her eyes on.

Nightmarish in nature, there are smudges of all sorts of substances she can't determine on nearly every surface. There are thankfully no dishes, but there are several charred pots and pans in the trash, and though the floor is relatively clean, Sakura has no clue as to why there are gratings of cheese engrained in the tiny, muddy footprints leading towards the fridge.

Sakura's eye twitches. "Well... aha..." Her father is so dead. "I don't think cheese is a good idea."

Yuuji frowns. "Why?"

"That's for eating, honey."

"But I'm hungry. I love cheese. I hate baths. That means I wanna be happy instead of sad."

Sakura sighs. She's not sure she'll have the pocket money to pay off Yuuji's cheese addiction, if he does develop one. "Okay. I'll help you take a bath, okay? I'll tell Papa to get us food after," She complies, kissing Yuuji's dirty cheek. He smells questionably like shit. Why does he suddenly smell like shit?

She prays.

Yuuji grins and throws his hands up with a happy 'yay', while Sakura wonders how exactly she's going to punt her dad in the head without accidentally killing him. She leaves him for one day and this is what he does!?

Sakura exhales.

Everything is fine.

[. . .]

She puts Yuuji to sleep two hours later.

He ate the three sandwiches her Shadow Clone retrieved (that, however very wrong, she had put a Genjutsu over so that it looked and tasted like the Manjuu he'd been craving) and promptly knocked out not even thirty minutes later after eating it. It was very relieving that she didn't have to read for a while to get him to sleep. Not that she doesn't like to, but she's tired, and she still has to talk to her father about his behavior towards Yuuji.

She knows he's a tired man. He works hard, nearly every day. She has to heal him every day because of it. His joints and muscles are worked to hell.

But that doesn't give him an excuse to leave Yuuji unsupervised.

I'm paranoid, Sakura refutes, gently exiting and closing the door.

She walks to the kitchen.

Her father has cleaned it.

Guilt riddles her heart.

I'm being ungrateful.

She looks around the living room. It's clean, too, and empty.

He's gone to sleep, she realizes. His subtle snoring coming through the hallway door to his room is unmistakable in the lonesome silence.

With a tired rub of her face, she heads into her room.

I'll talk to him tomorrow.

Chapter Text

[. . .]

"I connect to your soul beyond existence."

[. . .]

Chapter 5

Bonds Blooming in Snow

[. . .]

The hallway of the dorm rooms is humid with the lingering warmth of a late afternoon when Sakura walks in.

Dust motes float in the amber light leaking through the high windows. Footsteps echo distantly, lonely in their presence, like a ghost wandering what used to be. The doors are coated with a chipped brown, and the silver doorknobs are stained with human use. There's a faint smell of cleaning product in the air, mingled with the sensation of filtered energy, like someone had left behind unfinished memories.

It feels nothing like home.

The place looks nice, though. It feels like the tight-knit quarters of the many apartments back in Suna.

As she ventures further in, a powerful presence makes itself known almost immediately.

"Hey."

Sakura turns around at the expected voice, stopping just before her dorm door.

A girl with short, brown hair and a lollipop in her smiling mouth greets her. She has a mole under her right eye, iris colored like a doe's brown. Her eyelashes are long, and her hair is smooth, reminding her of a person she'd seen on one of her sensei's old Genin Trio pictures that she'd once inquired about after returning home with Sarada for the very first time.

The memory causes rapid pain.

She dismisses it.

"I'm Ieiri Shoko," Her probable dormmate introduces, wiping her hand free of sweat on her school uniform before offering it to her for a handshake.

Sakura takes it without issue, perking up. "Ah. You must be the only other girl in the second year."

Shoko's smile broadens. "That's right. Glad another one came to study here. No more sausage fest."

Sakura smiles back. "I know the feeling."

Shoko pulls her hand back once she lets go, shoving it into the pockets of her skirt. She cocks her head in mild interest. "Oh yeah?"

There's a pause—brief, nearly imperceptible—where Sakura fights to push down the phantom ache of old names. "Yeah," Sakura replies as the faces of Naruto, Kakashi, and Sasuke come to her mind unbidden. A bittersweetness coats itself like slime from inside her aching chest. "It gets old pretty quickly," She replies vaguely. She'd rather not share. "I'm Itadori Sakura, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Shoko tips her head in a friendly gesture. "Likewise. This your first time in the dorms?"

It is her first time in the dorms. She had never entered the building that Nanami had mentioned to her two weeks prior over a call, as he had casually remarked that her appointment with Yaga was of utmost importance. However, this could have been a figment of her imagination, as her recollection of the brief tour was more dominated by sorrowful reflections than anything else.

"Yeah. I just got my uniform a few days ago."

Shoko hums, examining her from head to toe. The uniform resembles Shoko's own, featuring shorter sleeves that extend slightly beyond her forearms, paired with red-lined shorts beneath a navy blue fabric, which gives the impression of a skirt. Instead of a collar reminiscent of Sasuke's Genin Days, Sakura sports a red neckerchief, buttoned and tied around her neck—like a turtleneck. A personal choice per Yaga-sensei's generous offer. She chose it, per her request to match her red headband, keeping her long hair out of her face.

Even now, Sakura can feel the phantom weight of her old forehead protector—her pride and burden—etched somewhere deeper than memory.

"Glad I caught you, then. I can show you around? If you need it, that is."

Sakura smiles warmly. "You can, but I'm afraid Yaga-sensei has already done the honors."

Shoko's grin returns. "Oh, cool. Normally, that job would fall to us second-years, since we're attending the same classes together. But since Nanami found you, Yaga-sensei got first dibs."

Sakura nods, "That makes sense." The tour had been short, but not as brief as Nanami's was. (If she can even call Nanami's short walk to the testing room a tour.) It was after she'd taken her initiation test, which she'd been told she passed with impressive flying colors in the ensuing aftermath. She'd even heard Yaga-sensei mutter to himself about how she might be the only student who wouldn't bring him a headache.

She can only assume the behavior of the students here.

Speaking of which. "Are there others in our grade?" Sakura asks. She knows there are because the list of questions she'd piled on Yaga-sensei was answered with detailed efficiency. Unfortunately, she hadn't been told the names of said students, just that there were two others.

Shoko hums, taking the lollipop out of her mouth. Sakura eyes the convenient red color it sports. "Yeah, you just missed them, I think. They were here last week, but for a quick pick-me-up because the great Gojo Heir's dumbass forgot something."

Gojo, Sakura notes. A clan name? "Oh. That's too bad. It would've been nice to be introduced."

Shoko snorts. "I think you were saved the hassle."

Sakura blinks at the interesting answer, "Are they rude?"

"Gojo, yeah. Geto? Only when you get to know him. But he's polite enough, I dunno. Can't say I've seen them interact enough with others of our age besides Nanami and Haibara."

Sakura curls a strand of her hair with her finger pensively. "Do they get along?" Nanami seems the lone-wolf type. Kind of like Sasuke, in a way. And similar to Sasuke, he keeps his own Naruto, in the form of one Haibara Yu. But Nanami is more like Neji, now that she thinks about it... and Haibara is his Lee.

How sad, she thinks distantly, that Neji never got to grow up with the rest of us. It was decades ago. Three or four, she doesn't know. She's lost count.

His death doesn't hurt like the others, but the ache remains. He'd been her friend.

And how tragic it is that she will never see them again.

Shoko taps her chin in mocking thought. "Geto, yeah. Geto Suguru, so that we save the names. He's the nice one. He, Nanami, and Haibara get along well. Nanami even finds him pleasant company when he isn't entertaining Gojo, that is. Gojo Satoru, by the way. Not sure if you've heard of him before. He's the asshole of the two who likes to mess with people. A trauma thing, I suspect. But what do I know?"

Sakura shakes her head, both to answer Shoko and to stop her mournful train of thought. "Can't say I've heard of Gojo Satoru before. Is he supposed to be well-known?"

Shoko eyes her, shoving the lollipop back in her mouth. She savors it a bit before continuing, "Yeah. He's the Six Eyes."

"Six eyes?" What?

Shoko pauses. "...Where did you say you were from again?"

Sakura smiles sheepishly. "I didn't!" She'd put a completely different area in her address. She doesn't know if other students get to read her files (which would be a huge disadvantage on her part and overall just plain unprofessional), but if they can, she has a believable story to tell. She's set up a Genjutsu of a small village in the countryside and keeps Shadow Clones posted to serve as family members just in case.

Call her paranoid, but she doesn't like any major governmental branch knowing where she truly lives. Not when she has Yuuji and her papa to protect.

Shoko takes her response in stride. "Well. He's powerful, that's all there is to him. He's actually a moody teenager who doesn't respect the rules and who likes Geto's attention shoved up his ass. They're off on a mission right now, a long one."

"Vulgar," Sakura comments, laughing lightly and mentally noting she'll have to ask for the mission details later, just to gauge what she'll expect.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. They sound like quite the pair. She likes Shoko the best, though that may be because she's the only person she's met in her grade so far. Also because she's a girl, a possible gossip, considering all the valuable intel she's been given. Everyone sounds promising. She'll know how to get along with the other students thanks to Shoko. She isn't anxious to make friends, but it would be nice to have some that she won't need to hide her strength from...

Sakura turns to her dorm door, pulling it open. The smell of new paint engulfs her nose, and the green flare of the sun bouncing off tree leaves hits her face.

She misses Konoha.

Sakura tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. "And um, I met Nanami-san and Haibara-san already, but... Can you tell me a little about them? I feel like I left a bad impression." More than bad, because she may or may not have accidentally sort of on purpose threatened them that day at the bakery.

As she steps inside her dorm for a quick survey, Shoko follows after. Sakura likes that she hadn't asked for permission. She wants casual friends.

"Sure." Sakura notices the girl doesn't probe for a further reason, so she must already know how she, Nanami, and Haibara met. That's a little embarrassing. "Nanami is a grumpy loner, and Haibara is his barnacle. They go everywhere together, kinda like Geto and Gojo. They're not morons, though. They're nice, or at least Haibara is."

Sakura's eyes crease with mirth as she hovers close to her bed, intent on checking it for bugs. Her fingers brush the sheets, searching instinctively for traps, pressure points, kunai threads—old habits never die. She'll do a thorough search tonight. "I noticed. What else do you know about them?"

"My, my," Shoko humors, "Are you a secret gossip, Itadori-san?"

"Just Sakura is fine," The rosette corrects.

"Just Sakura, then," Shoko grins. "I'm the same. Call me Shoko."

Sakura smiles kindly. And then she bites her lip at the sudden, asphyxiating thought that shoves itself as priority in her mind about a blondie who'd meant the world to her. Trying, and failing, not to envision purple clothes instead of Shoko's navy blue ones. "And to answer your question... if I were to tell you that I am?" She regards her carefully, both in jest and in wonder.

Shoko, in a bold and assuring move, dumps herself on Sakura's bed. "You're just my kind of girl, then."

Sakura pulls back, laughing in delight as she throws all caution to the wind and situates herself next to her. The mattress bounces with her weight, and both girls huff a merry noise when their shoulders crash in together. Sakura can almost picture it.

Her and Ino, here, them against the world.

Her eyes burn, almost.

"So," Sakura clears her throat, tearing her eyes away from Shoko's shocking brown hair, "Are you going to spare anything else, or will I need to bribe it out of you?"

Shoko's brown eyes dance with mischief and something else.

Something like relief.

Ah, Sakura thinks, she's lonely too.

She removes her backpack and sets it down on the floor as Shoko begins her juicy gossip, tone not unlike Ino's. She starts lightly, about Nanami's and Haibara's preferences for food and their overall mannerisms, and then extends it to how much of a whackjob Gojo and Geto are. She learns a thing or two about how Nanami prefers sweet confections to Haibara's spice and how the blonde is a horrible cook compared to their resident bubbly sunshine.

She even throws in things that can't be true—that Nanami has admitted he is somewhat afraid of her (her being Sakura), or that she won Haibara over before they even met, when they'd been reviewing security footage of her existence for their scouting mission to recruit her, easily destroying a grade-two curse with a flick of her finger.

Sakura considers it a deliberate reveal because Shoko mentions how she shouldn't know this and that it's primarily Haibara's faulty mouth for the forbidden knowledge given.

It's a perfect mix of much-needed information, tied with a bundle of fond insight.

It's so Ino.

Sakura swallows, processing.

Could she be you, Ino, in another life?

She dares hope.

But when she looks at the girl next to her again, at her almond eyes, chocolate hair, and the mole that rests on her serene expression, she drops such a scalding thought.

No.

No one could ever be you, Ino.

Sakura smiles sadly.

And that's not bad.

[. . .]

The two girls head out of the dorms not long after.

The afternoon sun spills golden warmth across the worn brick paths of Jujutsu Tech. Their backs lather with it, warm and trusting. The air is still and mild, touched with birdsong and the faint smell of damp earth. Distant willow trees sway, creating a kind of calm in the quiet between their chatter—a sanctuary moment before the world intrudes again.

Their voices bounce lightly off the open courtyard walls.

Their laughter mingles with talk of clothes, unconventional combat techniques, and the rare experience of being labeled as the school's first official Reverse Cursed Technique users. It becomes a small, silly badge between them, worn with a shared grin, as though fate had made room just for this new "type" of sorcerer: the badass healers.

Shoko shares her surprise at Sakura's specialty, and Sakura, despite only knowing her for a short time, offers something sincere and direct, the way she always had back home with people she trusted.

A chance to learn how to weaponize what they are.

It starts when the conversation circles back to Shoko. It's her turn to talk about herself, though only after Sakura agreed to promise secrets in the proceeding time, convinced when Shoko had done a bit of coaxing.

They walk side by side, slow and steady beneath the swaying branches of ginkgo trees. Sunlight dapples their uniforms. It's one of those days that makes the future feel far away, like it's okay to exist in the present.

Shoko kicks a loose stone along the path and sighs through her teeth. "I've got a technique," She starts, voice casual. "Reverse Cursed Energy. I'm kind of stuck here at Jujutsu Tech, though. Not much use outside." She points to herself with the red stickiness of the lollipop on her fingertips.

Sakura, momentarily confused, blinks. "You're a healer too?"

Shoko stumbles in her step, doing a double-take like she hadn't expected the word to be spoken aloud.

They stop walking. Across the open field—where the wind brushes long grass—they stare at each other. Shoko's face is an open book of quiet shock, maybe even relief, and Sakura's eyes sparkle with excitement.

"That's great!" Sakura exclaims, eyes wide with interest. "Are you a combat medic or—?"

Shoko cuts her off with a small shake of the head. "I don't fight."

Sakura's enthusiasm dims only slightly, shifting into thoughtful concern. "Oh. By choice?"

Shoko is silent for a moment, then shrugs, hands in her pockets again. "I'm a special Reverse Cursed Technique user. They said I was too valuable to risk in the field. So, I got benched." Her tone is flat, but Sakura catches the tightness in her shoulders. It reminds Sakura of what her shishou told her long ago, about being the first combat medic and needing to prove herself not just for being a woman, but for being the first medic who fights back.

Sakura frowns. "That shouldn't matter. I'm a medic, and I'm a close-combat user. Did you ever want to be out there?"

Another shrug, but this one lacks conviction. "I guess. It'd be nice, I think, to leave the damn place for something besides autopsies and patch-up jobs. But eh... I don't make the rules."

Sakura crosses her arms and taps her chin thoughtfully as they resume their walk. "What if I taught you how to fight?"

Shoko glances sideways, one brow rising high. Her lollipop stick moves doubtfully to the opposite corner of her mouth. "For real?"

"Why not?" Sakura says, half-grinning. "I think it'd be a nice girl-day bonding activity."

There's a pause where Shoko studies her intently.

Various emotions smooth past, consideration, intention, and finally, pleasant surprise. She huffs a laugh. "Okay, sure. Why the fuck not?"

An unexpressed connection develops between them following that moment. It is something gentle. A brief sense of belonging—subtle, yet shared. Shoko refrains from expressing gratitude, and Sakura doesn't mind it. They simply stroll together, side by side, as though they have always done so.

Sakura doesn't stop thinking.

She doesn't stop thinking about Ino, and the chance they could've had together, long ago.

[. . .]

Nanami and Haibara return during the hours of high noon from their early morning mission, seeking out the cafeteria to partake in lunch. Instead, on the way, they run into a sweaty and bruised Shoko lying like a starfish on the training grounds with a smiling Sakura standing just to the side of her.

"You did so well!" Sakura praises, and Shoko groans.

"...Really?"

"Yeah! You lasted three seconds longer than last time!"

"Ugh."

"Itadori-senpai! Ieiri-senpai!" Haibara yells in greeting, prompting the two girls to look toward him. Nanami crosses his arms when Sakura's eyes land on him, untensing slightly at the smile and wave she bestows. She's wearing the standard Jujutsu Tech uniform, though touched up with a few eye-catching details that look nice.

For a moment, he lets himself think.

He still doesn't have a solid opinion on Sakura, but...

Nanami isn't sure what to make of her decision to join the infinite world of Jujutsu Sorcery. A part of him feels relieved, maybe a little pleased, that someone sharp, if a little eccentric, has chosen to attend. But beneath that is an unease he doesn't tend to acknowledge unless it's a restless night, a quiet resentment at the thought of another life being tethered to the same brutal future he can already see waiting. It has him momentarily dreading what he doesn't put into words: the knowledge that her choice, however hers, means she could get hurt just as easily as the rest of them.

Or worse.

Because being a jujutsu sorcerer, even if it's just a student right now, means unpredictable, potentially fatal scenarios. Things that are distant to Nanami sober; he has already acknowledged that by taking this job, there will be irreversible consequences.

But he digresses.

"Hey! Nanami-san! Haibara-san!"

Sakura waves energetically, her cheeks slightly flushed from exertion, but her smile is effortless. The sun gleams off her damp hair, strands sticking to her face as if refusing to part from her focus.

He is a little surprised she addressed him, too. It's stupid, yes, but in the week that's gone by and the few glances he'd seen of Sakura, he'd thought nothing of her. They didn't say hi to each other.

Until now.

Maybe her spirits are lifted, and that's why she said hello. The next time they meet one on one, they'll probably ignore each other again.

It's a sobering thought, and kills the pleasant surprise.

He's overthinking.

Haibara bounds over with all the grace of a golden retriever off-leash. "You guys training without me? That's so cruel!" he gasps, dramatically clutching his chest like Sakura just betrayed him in a tragic romance drama.

"We were bonding," Shoko mumbles from the ground, face smushed against the dirt. "I'm dying."

Curious, Nanami steps closer to peer down at the fallen Shoko. He's never seen her in this state, and by the evidence on Sakura alone, he suspects she may have been teaching her some things.

That's good. Nanami doesn't know Shoko personally like that, but he pays attention to every little thing. Only a few times, he heard her (very carelessly and casually) complain about being stuck with just healing.

"You're not dying," Sakura chirps helpfully, placing her hands on her hips. "You're just not used to activating your core."

Nanami wonders. He knows Sakura is strong. But to what degree, and what is her skillset?

Nanami doesn't think he'll bother asking her, ever, but it's a question that phases anyway.

Shoko weakly lifts a hand in protest, but it flops back down without strength. "My core can go to hell."

Haibara kneels beside her, eyes wide and sparkly with admiration. "Did you really train, Shoko-senpai? That's awesome! Are you trying to go on missions now? Can I help?"

Shoko shifts just enough to fix him with a deadpan stare. "You can take my place and let me sleep for the next two days."

"Trade accepted!" Haibara declares, saluting. Not that it matters much.

Sakura laughs, fond and light. "I'm planning a beginner regimen for her. She's got good instincts—just needs the practice."

Haibara turns to Nanami, beaming. "Isn't that great, Nanami? Shoko-senpai's gonna join us on the battlefield!"

Nanami grunts, dismissing Shoko's "I thought you agreed to take my place". He fiddles with the end of his sleeves and eyes Shoko, who hasn't moved an inch.

His next words come unbidden. "She'll need to survive Itadori-san's enthusiasm first." Nanami freezes, subtly sneaking a glance at Sakura at the light-hearted (meaningless) jab, but Sakura isn't looking. She doesn't seem bothered by the comment, and that is enough to release the tension from his body.

His comment earns a small snort of amusement from Shoko.

Sakura brushes a sweaty bang behind her ear and looks toward Nanami, this time more serious. "Did the mission go well?"

Nanami's lips twitch—almost into a pleasant smile, but it doesn't quite reach. As enthusiastic as Itadori appears at the moment (a drastic change to the serious girl he'd met), she isn't as obnoxious as Gojo. And her sudden sincerity is a nice change.

He opens his mouth for a cordial response, "As expected." And then internally cringes at the short, terse one that comes out instead, quickly searching Sakura's face for any offense he may have caused. But her expression remains unchanged.

Nanami is starting to feel silly. He doesn't care much about what people think. He knows he's not the social kind of guy.

But he can't help but expect some fuck-up this early with someone so new. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she doesn't seem like Haibara, who makes and loves making friends with everyone, even blunt assholes like himself, or Gojo, who makes it easy to say shit to because the guy doesn't care and he's insufferable.

Sakura seems... nice. Like a decent person.

In this line of work (student shit), it's hard to find people like that. If any. Either he's a freak by normal standards, or he gets stuck with nutjobs. There are hardly people his age around here. He has Haibara, and he won't trade him for the world. He's all that he has, really. Geto doesn't count; he has Gojo. Gojo is out of the question. And Shoko is always hanging out with the doom duo of his upperclassmen, or this other girl, Utahime, who is part of the other Jujutsu Technical College. Everyone has someone.

But Sakura...

Haibara adds quickly, "Yeah! We exorcised a semi-grade 2 in the train station. We're just headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat to make up the calories we lost, ya know?"

Nanami blinks back to reality. He feels a tad embarrassed for losing himself in his thoughts like that, and makes a brief look-around to see if anyone noticed. But everyone is looking at his best friend next to him.

Thank God for Haibara. Nanami wouldn't know what to do without him.

"Sounds good," Sakura offers a thumbs up.

Haibara perks up, body physically straightening, enough to tell Nanami that he's about to air out a social idea that won't appease him whatsoever. "Want to eat together?"

Ugh. Nanami doesn't mind company, but right now, he's tired. He just wants a simple lunch and a fat nap.

Although...

His eyes slide to Sakura, studying her all over again. She's not... loud. Maybe. And it'd be nice to get to know her a little...? He feels they got off on the wrong foot, is all.

Shoko was convinced he was scared of her or something, for some damning reason, when Haibara aired out the news of the new potential alumni weeks ago. Which makes no sense. He'd just been uncomfortable because Sakura seemed uncanny until the last time he'd seen her, when she'd been admiring flowers while walking with Yaga-sensei and the sun had painted over her back, her fluttering hair, revealing a forlorn expression that seemed unbefitting of someone so light.

From then, she'd just been normal.

Sakura's face brightens. "We'd love to."

"I wouldn't," Shoko groans.

Nanami likes Shoko sometimes, when she's not instigating. They tend to have the same thoughts, like right now.

"Too bad," Sakura replies, crouching and gently tugging on Shoko's wrist. "Up you get, soldier."

Shoko squints at her. "I will poison your tea."

"I'm poison resistant," Sakura replies sweetly, helping her to her feet with surprisingly tender ease. The ease with which she lifts her has Nanami wondering just what kind of training she gets up to.

Following her prompting response is a sudden silence.

Haibara, Nanami, and Shoko all stare at Sakura with various degrees of surprise, shock, and worry.

Sakura stops short, smile faltering somewhat. "What?" She asks innocently.

"Poison resistant?" Shoko repeats rather incredulously.

Sakura lets out a faint, nervous laugh. "Ah, um? Yes?" She shifts her eyes quickly between all three of them. "Is that... bad?"

"It's... impressive," Haibara manages out through his shock, blinking. "And kind of badass. But also, uh, are you okay?" His hand hovers uncertainly in the air before he waves it in front of her, like she's blind or something. The gesture is clumsy, almost apologetic, betraying how jittery he suddenly feels. Nanami would've already butted in with a smack to his head for his idiocy, but as it currently stands, he, too, is reeling at the new information on his upperclassman.

"All poisons?" Shoko pipes in with a new interest before Sakura could reassure Haibara. She rolls her shoulder, exhaling a wince as she says it, and Nanami narrows his eyes when he catches Sakura hiding a green glow sprouting from the hand touching Shoko's.

Live, he watches as Shoko's contorted expression slowly recedes.

Nanami keeps the information to himself.

"Most likely," Sakura replies. "But you know. New poisons are always being made."

"That's true," Nanami mumbles, side-eyeing her. "Is poison resistance a part of your cursed technique...?" Of which he has no information on, besides the footage he'd seen of her flicking a curse away with her index finger. And the forest spectacle, something she called... what was it? Killing Intent? Nanami doesn't like the sound of that.

"And the diamond?" Shoko adds.

Nanami sends her a withering look.

"Sort of to the first question," Sakura scratches her scalp, "And yes to the second one. For Nanami-san's question, I was trained from a young age to ingest measured amounts of different poisons. Over time, as I refined my technique, the skill itself merged with it." Her fingers lift, tapping the purple symbol marked on her forehead. "Which answers Shoko's question. The rhombus is the physical manifestation of my technique."

"I see," Nanami mumbles, ingesting the new information, feeling both impressed and slightly concerned for her childhood.

And also a bit out of place. He's not one to engage in conversation. Not... to someone he's only met twice. That's Haibara's job.

But she makes it easy.

Nanami blinks.

The hell.

"Anyway," Shoko cracks her back and lets out a groan. Haibara sees this and replicates, exhaling a pleased sound himself. Nanami rolls his eyes. His own muscles are still sore from the mission. Watching Haibara mimic even Shoko's fatigue makes him want to do the same thing, but he feels like it'd be too comical to do so. And ridiculous.

"You guys said you were heading to the cafeteria?"

"That's right," Haibara confirms.

"Okay. Let's go eat, then. I'm starving."

The promise of food is a relief. Finally, he thinks, and directs his body toward the cafeteria. Sakura's words stop him in his tracks, however, reminding him that the conversation isn't over.

"Then we'll continue training," She delights.

Shoko scoffs. "Absolutely not. Let's do that like, when I recover. I fear that you'll have me puking my guts out if we do," She drawls.

Sakura smiles like she got caught. "Oh, yeah, that's fine, too!"

"You could train us?" Haibara suggests, gesturing between Nanami and himself.

Nanami glares at him, but says nothing to refuse that. Nanami doesn't want to be rude.

It turns out that trying to keep the pleasantry has him unintentionally agreeing to something he'll very much regret later.

For now, however, after Sakura's "I don't mind!" the group begins walking toward the cafeteria. The atmosphere settles into something warm. Familiar. Easy.

Nanami lingers at the back, watching the three ahead of him—Sakura and Shoko bantering side by side, Haibara gesturing animatedly between them, voice rising with cheerful momentum.

He exhales through his nose.

His stomach grumbles.

He's hungry.

[. . .]

Nanami decides he will never train with Sakura again.

The indolence he initially thought up at having to train on top of a grueling mission was nothing compared to the dread and torturous agony of actually engaging in it. With Sakura. Because training with a teacher has limits. Sakura very clearly does not.

Shoko had opted herself out, having known the consequences. Nanami had thought nothing of it at the time, seeing her happily (frantically) skip away.

Now, slumped on a wooden bench at the edge of the courtyard, chest heaving, knuckles bloodied, and his face marked by a broken nose and split lip, he envies her for it.

Haibara and Nanami... they really hadn't known what they got into.

At first, it was calm. She was rather condescending but hadn't meant to be, Nanami thinks, because she was performing some of the advanced beginner katas he'd already learned and teaching them with the seriousness of a professional. It was a nice change from Gojo's dismissive nature. When Haibara had pointed it out (nicely), she'd taken it well and then.

Then, Nanami doesn't know what happened.

She'd become... the girl. From the CCTV recording.

As soon as Haibara had told her, she'd warned them lightly that she was going to execute a potential scenario.

And all hell broke loose.

She'd been so fucking fast—she'd launched herself at them with ground-breaking speed, and Nanami had barely enough time to shove Haibara out of the way to tank the hit. That had been Nanami's first mistake.

When her bony-knuckled punch landed, Nanami almost buckled at the sheer agony he felt shattering his forearms. He'd jumped back, managed to reorient himself with gritted teeth, flexing his arms, wrists, and hands to check if she'd broken them. Miraculously, she had not, but Nanami had no time to properly make sure because she was throwing herself at him again.

Nanami's adrenaline skyrocketed.

Haibara had intervened then, brushing the tip of her elbow with his finger. His technique sparked to life, cursed energy snapping into her bloodstream and numbing her arm enough to drop the attack.

Yuu's ability worked like a paralytic—seeping in, disrupting, and rendering the targets inert—but it carried a cost. The stronger the opponent, the greater the drain on Haibara's own reserves, and recklessness could empty him just as fast as it disabled his enemy. To counter this, he had trained himself only to strike precise areas, conserving strength where he could.

In that way, his technique complemented Nanami's perfectly: Haibara opened up the weakest points, and Nanami broke them down. Together, it was why their missions usually ended so quickly.

Nanami steadied himself the instant Haibara's strike connected. Relief flickered through him—brief, intense, triumphant.

But it vanished just as quickly when Sakura recovered in a blur, twisting into a sudden kick that sent both of them skidding across the ground.

"Huh," she muttered, flexing the arm that wouldn't obey. But somehow, her fingers were twirling, and in a matter of minutes, while Nanami and Haibara recovered, they watched with mild awe and horror as she began to regain entire use of her arm. "That's an amazing technique, Haibara-san. I like it," She praised, shooting them a smile.

And then, without hesitation, she lunged right back in.

The two of them scrambled and stumbled into each other more times than Nanami can count. Sakura had easily rendered their practiced teamwork into nothing.

Every strike she landed felt calculated, merciless, as if she'd been testing how far they could bend before breaking.

And all the while, she was telling them placidly what they should fix, do next, and how to counter her.

But even with her answers, Nanami couldn't quite catch them all.

Haibara tried to laugh through it, a nervous bark of sound, but the moment Sakura swept his legs out from under him and, while airborne, kicked him into Nanami's prone form, even that vanished into a half-choke of doom. Nanami barely caught Haibara and the next blow himself, his arms rattling from the impact, his lungs burning as he struggled to stay upright.

By the time Sakura called a short pause—smiling far too brightly, like she was just warming up—Nanami was already certain.

He was never doing this again.

Haibara had thankfully, however, declared their (tremendously long) hour of training over. Sakura had accepted easily and allowed Haibara to drag himself back into the dorms, surprisingly intact, after promising to check in with Shoko (because he denied Sakura's offer to check on him, exuding some of that rare sore-loser aspect Nanami was prone to sharing sentiments with).

Nanami, on the other hand...

He took the worst of it. After all, he'd been the main one on the receiving end of Sakura's strength; all instances caused either because he was distracted by the fog of pain, or trying to keep Haibara safe.

So now he's here, gulping in ragged breaths, wincing at the ache all over his body.

He's mad at himself over how easily she wiped the floor off of them, but he's also somewhat... glad about it? He doesn't know. But he knows one thing: he has a lot of improvements to make.

After Haibara leaves, Sakura hesitates for a moment before quietly approaching Nanami's recovering form.

She looks so composed that Nanami holds back the glare building in his eyes. Then she offers that glowing green hand of hers again, and Nanami's attention is instantly snagged. She'd used this technique on Shoko before. Nanami realizes that it's a healing factor. "May I take care of you?" The words sound odd, but her tone matches the same clinical one she'd used on Haibara, so he doesn't dwell on it.

He studies her, weighing the offer. He could refuse—but that would mean dragging himself, aching and bloodied, all the way to Shoko instead. Yeah, no.

What the hell. "Sure," he grunts.

She steps closer, closing the space between them, and in an instant he's aware of her scent, her face, the fact that she's far nearer than he's used to letting anyone get. It's incredibly awkward. And humiliating.

Sure, he thinks glumly, nearly closing his eyes at the immediate relief that soaks through his flesh and bone. But he doesn't, because that's a bit demasculating, choosing instead to look past her, at the tall trees. Still. The next thought comes unbidden and shameful: Just let the girl who kicked your ass take care of you right after.

He makes a face and stomps it down.

He's never had his pride this destroyed before. That's all. Sakura is a kind and reliable upperclassman for providing some valuable, albeit scary, insight into his current strength.

He doesn't realize he's unintentionally scowling at her until she finally speaks up.

"Sorry," She murmurs, shy. Nanami looks at her. He's a tad surprised (and guilty) at the solemn set of her face. "I hadn't really thought... Maybe I should change how I teach things. I'm so used to it..." Her shoulders sag with defeat. She makes no sense, but he waits patiently for what she wants to say. "Sorry," She ends up repeating. "I'll try to correct my method of teaching."

Nanami nearly replies with 'there's no need', but that would be a lie.

So he says nothing, waiting until her glowing hand and the faint, aloe-vera-like essence lift from his face. When she takes his hands instead, he tenses, the instinctive stiffness of someone unused to such closeness. He exhales sharply, trying to mask it, only to be startled by the realization that the pain on his face is gone. No soreness, no sting. Just the tang of copper lingering on his tongue.

She begins to heal his knuckles. Slowly, he watches the crimson bruises recede into pink skin.

The act is very intimate.

Nanami's tongue ties itself in knots.

He wants to tell her that there are better ways to teach people things without immediately going all out, that he hadn't really minded the offer, that it was too brutal for his liking, that it helped in ways she is probably unaware of. But he can't. It gets stuck in his throat, raw with an unnamed emotion, and Nanami can't focus on anything else except for the feeling of her warm hands flowing gentle energy through the tender contact of their hands together.

His mind goes blank.

She doesn't say anything else.

He knows the situation is stupidly awkward.

But he also can't talk.

When she finally pulls away, Nanami hastily tucks his hands onto his lap, unable to look her in the eye.

The gesture is incredibly rude, but he's too much in his mind to care. "...Thank you," He manages to mumble out anyway, trying and failing to find any way to tell her what he wanted to.

But Sakura is already smiling, mumuring a soft "no problem", leaving him behind alone on the bench.

And it's on that bench he sits, mind spiraling, questioning everything and nothing at once.

Whatever, he thinks.

But it's not whatever.

No, it really, really isn't.