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Haruno Sakura was by all accounts a perfect child.
All strawberry sweet to match cherry pink hair, with just the right spark of inquisitiveness. If there was something missing, it would be an occasional dash of petulance that made otherwise well-behaved children even more endearing. Still, Haruno Mebuki would not begrudge her blessings. Sakura had in years past saved her and Kizashi the many sleepless nights that plagued the parents of newborns and was now saving them from the struggles of wrangling and disciplining an unruly four year old.
So it came as a shock when she returned home to Sakura wailing inconsolably, her feet glued to the side of their home.
It was the first of many of her “tantrum days”.
I can do whatever I want!
Sakura cleanly filed away the internal complaint, sequestering it in the little corner of her mind that she had cleared out for such complaints. The rest was all rolling hills and fluffy clouds and singing birds.
The dump was the dump.
I want dango for dinner!
Another errant thought to be processed then discarded.Tidying up her brain brought her great satisfaction. With so many wrinkles and folds it had to pick up dust. She remembered the first time she’d seen a diagram of the misshapen nut of an organ. Her stubby fingers had managed to dislodge a medical text from library shelves. Subsequent oohing and aahing had convinced the on-duty chunin to humor her with a reading while her mother finished browsing. A few cook books later Mebuki had returned and was promptly cajoled into also checking out the far-too-advanced scroll by a thoroughly amused shinobi.
The hours before bedtime the next few months had been spent snuggled in her father’s lap as they both puzzled over the words of the A Basic Treatise on Anatomy . Her mother could not be convinced, even by two pairs of upturned eyes and pleading expressions, to subject herself to the task.
I can do whatever I want!
Sakura felt the swell of emotion in her chest again, this time much harder to pin down. These uncontrollable childish thoughts had been getting more and more common. She was a child, but she was not childish. Firmly grasping the offending complaint in her mind’s eye she flung it into the appropriate corner.
The next thing she knew she felt an irresistible pulling and draining sensation. All of her was being swirled away and then just as quickly she was flat on her back completely whole and unharmed. She could feel pinpricks of dew against her skin, blades of grass tickling her gently. But there were no rolling clouds to accompany halcyon green.
Only a monochrome of herself standing over her, complete with too big forehead and vicious grin.
“I can do whatever I want!”
Inner Sakura clocked her outer self in the face.
“I want dango for dinner!”
Another smack.
“I can do whatever I want!”
Her inner self gradually became more articulate, if no less violent when too often ignored. Injuries and pain afforded to her by her inexplicably more athletic Inner were not reflected in the real world, but seemed to persist within her mental landscape whenever she was forced to make the trip. Occasional capitulation was preferable to constant internal turmoil, and besides the more Inner Sakura learned to find her voice the more specific and actionable the requests became.
I can do whatever I want! was quickly substituted with exactly whatever it was that she wanted.
I want Mama to sing me a lullaby!
Sakura cringed internally. Mebuki had looked a little crestfallen when her daughter began referring to her as “Mother” but it was not something said daughter was willing to walk back at the behest of a gremlin that coincidentally looked just like her.
So she had instead phrased the request as “Mother could you please sing me a lullaby tonight”. It was met with delighted squeals by her inner self and her mother. Her parents did not seem to begrudge the occasional selfish request so for a time Inner and Sakura settled into an accord.
I want to hit something!
Sakura did not want to hit something, so she filed that request away. Her once idyllic mental landscape was now inundated with stacks of paper denoting sections of Under Consideration , Approved and Denied . Inner scrunched her face up, but didn’t flare up for the moment.
I wanna go up!
The wall before her was for all-intents and purposes a sheer surface. They couldn’t go up, no matter how much her Inner wanted them to. Memories bubbled unbidden to the forefront of her mind, no doubt aided by the will of her petulant companion.
Tenketsu.
The chakra pathway system and accompanying diagram, found in the appendices of A Basic Treatise on Anatomy . It was otherwise a decidedly civilian medical text.
Visions of shinobi scaling castle walls and rock cliffs.
Proportions of the diagram were quickly adjusted to her frame and overlaid over a carefully curated mental map of her body. Her brain traced the paths of what should flow within her. If it wasn’t there she should be dead, but she couldn’t find it. That pool of bright and warm that should represent her. So she rummaged through herself until she found a whisper of a spark of something. Inner crowed her delight as they followed that little light. Each step within themselves illuminated little paths that had just moments before been beyond her notice.
She felt the thrum of her chakra and in step with her dawning came Inner’s. Her constant companion gleefully wrapped her arms around the bundle that was them, pulling and tweaking at the ball of internal energy. As Sakura kneaded at her chakra she felt it equal parts compliant and unruly. The bits that would not neatly fold into her grip instead squirmed toward Inner who was quick to welcome them to her embrace.
If Inner was desire then she had to be intent.
Tiny swirls of chakra raced to the tips of her fingers, not even whorls but wisps. As she splayed her fingers against the surface of the wall, sparks of blue quickly ran from her palms. They were eager to leave her so she urged them tight against her skin. Tentative kneading at the bits of her that threatened to so easily run away gave rise to a pleasantly humming sheen.
It stuck.
Stretching her body to its meager full length Sakura painstakingly managed to wiggle stubby legs and stubby arms and chubby fingers into a frog-like stance. All four extremities held firm against the wall for fleeting seconds before she lost her grip. She fell to the ground with an unceremonious plop. Not one to be discouraged by surely transient failures she righted herself and tried once again. She found the trails of chakra came to her with more vigor than before, traces of the rambunctious will of Inner.
The second time was little better than the first. Her chakra came almost too easily. It made the bite of failure when it declined to stick or when her outstretched arms could strain no longer hurt all the more. Her limbs began to scream their protests as a third attempt stretched into a tenth with only a step more of progress.
It was her fault. Not Inner’s. The body was hers as much as the deep within was theirs.
She had failed and it was a shard of glass to her heart.
Strange and somehow right was her and her monochrome self’s united despair and want. It was strange and somehow right for tears to spring to her eyes and not stop. So it was only right that she cried.
She wailed like a child should.