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Seaside Town of Arlla - September 28 1948 SO
Magic was fickle in who it allowed to draw power. It mattered not that the art was dying with modern innovation. Sakura wasn’t sure how she had come to earn the favor of such a mystical thing. Living in a more rural area, just outside the city she went to school in, she’d grown up on her parents' small piece of land—which butt up against an old orchard filled with various plants and trees.
Her parents were merchants. Their little home was always filled with such magical objects and various relics. Sakura enjoyed sorting their merch, but enjoyed much more playing and attending the trees and flowers outside. She pretended they whispered secrets to her while she read in the shade of fruit trees or painted her nails beside the grape vines.
As she grew, so had the flora. When she was happy, the plants seemed to glow all the more pretty. Achieving high marks on her exams bore extra flowers and fruits. Heartbreak shed petals and leaves, but nothing terrible.
Her parents hadn’t noticed right away the correlation, nor had she.
When influenza ran rampant through the school, seven-year-old Sakura caught a terrible case, the plants suffered greatly. They drooped low to the ground, stocks and branches snapping. Even though Sakura was one of the first children in her grade to catch the sickness, it lingered in her lungs longer than it had for anyone else. None of the physicians in the area had been helpful. No amount of medicines cleared her lungs and mind from the heavy feeling and non-stop coughing.
As a last resort, they called an apothecary, a witch.
Days, then weeks went by without answer to their calls. Sakura grew sicker, the orchard dried and became brittle, and two women approached the door to their home.
The Castle of Golden Sands - October 15 1948 SO
Sasori knew he was destined for great things. His grandmother wouldn’t have taken him in for any other reason. Alchemy was a sacred process, one his parents were not called to. But it had called to him in his seventh year. Now, a year later, after studying every book placed in front of him and found buried deep in his grandmother’s library, he was finally able to begin his apprenticeship.
Transmutation was an invigorating process. While nothing he worked on turned to gold, he was close.
Recently, though, Grandmother had him learning how to transform objects from their latent form to something potent and useful. Extracting medicine from leaves and flowers which could be helpful for further transmutation. . . or so Grandmother said. He wasn’t fully convinced.
In fact, Sasori found it all very odd.
“Grandmother?”
“ Hmm ?” Was her only response. She stood toiling away in one of the labs. Her castle was filled with them for all sorts of purposes, toiling over a bubbling bowl of something pleasant smelling. Rose hips, coriander, various spices, and sand. He recognized the scents as he was the one to create the potent mixtures. And now she was blending them into something he hadn’t seen before.
There were three grand windows in this room, one of the few labs he had seen that had them. Usually they were lit by modern lighting, or an unholy number of candles. This specific room must typically be used for transmutations and the likes which electricity and fire would be volatile.
It was then that Sasori realized he had never been in this room at all. It was different from their typical transmutation rooms. This one had a few racks with trays of plants and water tubes, a bookshelf of tomes not pertaining to alchemy at all, and a freshness. The room felt alive.
“For the last week we’ve been working on transmuting plants, which is incredibly interesting. But, I don’t understand the purpose of it. It’s not exactly. . . Alchemy.” He stood at perfect attention, even with her back to him. There was never to be a moment of disrespect within the walls of her castle. He was lucky to be chosen.
More knowledge was needed before he could mouth off.
Again she mused and hummed. “I received a letter from an old rival, a hag hiding in a hot body.” Finally, Grandmother Chiyo turned to face him. He took note of the wrinkles set into her face, the liver spots, and the lively sparkle in her eyes. Though she was old and aging, she had not done so entirely poorly. Sasori had seen Grandmother’s brother. He had not aged well at all. Sasori found the whole process a waste of time, and would do his best to reject the notion. “She has found a worthy apprentice, a second one. How she finds this many, I’ll never know.”
Sasori did not think two people could qualify for a ‘this many’ but he wouldn’t comment on it.
Grandmother waved Sasori over to the wooden table where she worked. He obeyed. “The young girl is sick. Her magical presentation has been tangled up in the influenza. One of the treatments to help untangle magic from such a terrible sickness requires specific herbs and materials grown in our region. I was going to package them up and send them her way because I’m rubbish at working with plants in such a way. Then I had a thought. You,” she folded her hands into her long sleeves, which were a safety hazard, “seem to have an aptitude for them. You’ll finish brewing the potion for the child. Then we deliver it to the overgrown garden witch and the child. It will be good for you to see what magic can do for people. I just have to make sure I know how to brew the potion myself so I can teach it to you. It has been many many years since I worked in potionary.”
He mused a moment himself. He already knew the benefit of magic, especially alchemy. The art was perfect, timeless. Botany was not something he had great interest in. Plants were bound to cycles of death. They did not last long. Potency from plants was ever fading.
But, this would be good for him, surely. Something could be learned from anything.
“Yes, Grandmother.”
So back to his little lab he went. Wandering down the long and frigid stone hallways. The air outside was arid and filtered through a layer of sand, but Grandmother Chiyo had magic woven all around the castle to protect it from the elements.
His steps echoed. One person walking created the sound of at least twenty meandering bodies. But aside from Grandmother, he was the only one here. No one else came this deep into the castle when they visited. It was cleaned and seen by only the two. That was fine.
Cottage of the Witch - November 1 1948 SO
Tsunade paced the floor of her intake room. The young girl, Sakura, slept in one of the adjacent rooms on the first floor. Tsunade requested her parents bring her here for further treatment, and for the safety of the nearby agricultural farm lands. The girl’s ability to affect flora was interesting. Not terribly different from her own or Shizune’s magical presentation. Sakura wouldn’t be able to harm the plants either of the women grew here. Their own magical ties to the roots wouldn’t allow Sakura’s emotions to draw them away.
Tsunade slumped onto one of her settees, one robed in maroon velvet. It was an expensive piece, which meant she couldn’t bang her fists upon the back of it to vent her frustrations. No, she could control her anger. She was calm. The girl’s illness on its own was simple to treat. Influenza was a beast, but not one that was more powerful than herbology or modern medicine! Influenza tangling itself into her magic? Almost unheard of. But, Tsunade knew how to separate the two again.
It wouldn’t even be a problem for the child if that Sand Hag sent over the ingredients as promised.
Calm yourself. It does you no good to let rage lead you. Think of the wrinkles frowning causes. You don’t want to scare your new apprentice.
A deep breath, and a summoned cup of Earl Grey tea later, and Tsunade was the perfect picture of calm. Shizune was still out desperately searching through magical markets. The necessary ingredients that Chiyo refused to send after her initial letter of agreement were hard to find, but shouldn’t have been this impossible.
How had their lives grown so distant? They’d been good friends at the magical academy. Or, good friendly rivals. Always pushing the other to greatness.
Tsunade took a turn about the room. A few of the decorative bookshelves in the intake room had photo frames. Some were gifts from patients she had healed over the years, but a seldom few were her own. Photos with Dan, photos with family members, her diploma proudly displayed in a living frame of oak branches and ivy.
One such photo was of Chiyo and Tsunade in their academy uniform, a flowing black dress, each with a red ribbon atop their heads. They stood side by side absolutely covered in green goop from their potion mastery final. The two had worked together seamlessly to create a cleaning potion that required minimal physical effort to remove grime—targeted for those with physical limitations. It had blown up in their face while demonstrating in their thesis speech, but it had worked in the end. They passed the class, and all others. And then, come the days after graduation. . .
The clock chimed half past four.
Oh well . She would need to begin brewing another fever calming drought for Sakura. She downed the remaining tea in her cup, dismissed it back to the kitchen, and started toward her greenhouse.
The front door of her cottage flew open. A burst of wind threatened every hanging thing on the nearby walls. The hinges groaned—which should have been impossible considering the enchantments placed upon them. A bit of snow fell across the threshold, melting into the hardwood floors instantly due to the heating charms Tsunade kept on the place. There was no purpose in being cold, especially when one worked with flowers and plants.
“I see you’re still pretending that you’re youthful and beautiful.”
Tsunade hadn’t heard a cackle such as that in ages. She almost missed it. Almost.
“Welcome in. I see you’re making yourself comfortable.” The veins in her forehead began pulsing. Chiyo had dusted herself off right at the threshold and plopped herself into one of the large wing-backed chairs.
“I hate trains. Having to board one at five in the morning and not even arrive until three in the afternoon is a sin. And then the hour walk to this cottage. Pick a better location.” Chiyo groaned and dug about in her large hide bag. “But I think you’ll be rather pleased.”
“Oh, pleased about waiting weeks for a package that should have arrived in two days?”
A grin split Chiyo’s face. “Oh, no. Something far better than that. Boy, hurry up!” She barked toward the doorway.
Straining her ears, Tsunade heard the faint huffing and puffing of someone climbing up the path toward her door.
Not three moments later, a young boy slumped through the doorway.
Less boy, more pack mule. There were four bags affixed to his spine, towering a few feet over his boyish frame.
No one spoke as he hobbled into the room, gasping for air before he fell to his knees and worked the packs off himself.
“Chiyo. . . child slavery has been outlawed for two hundred years. Who is he?” Tsunade pointed a slender finger at the boy. Tension growing between her brows reminded her of wrinkles, but she couldn’t find it within herself to ease the muscles.
“This is my apprentice and my grandson, Sasori.” Chiyo preened as she summoned her own cup of tea from Tsunade’s kitchen and sipped. “You still make your tea the same way. Stupid tasting.”
“Stupid isn’t a flavor profile, and you know that,” Tsunade barked. “What is your reason for barging in unannounced, for delaying the ingredients I need for this child?” Attempts to quell her bubbling frustration failed.
“I,” he huffed, “made the potion.” The boy lay on the ground, crushed flat by the bags.
She took a step back, physically recoiling. “You made the potion—that would mean,” she turned her head, and pointed finger, to Chiyo, “you had to teach him potionary. And you’re terrible with plants, you desert bog witch.”
“You want to say that again?” Chiyo set her tea cup down against the thin, matching plate.
The two began arguing, screaming threats and insults. Magic buzzed in the air, a swarm of spells at the ready to be cast.
The clock struck five. Five .
Tsunade scrambled to her lab. Chiyo sat flabbergasted in her wake, and the boy still laid crushed to death under the bags.
The greenhouse butted right up to the cottage. Every joint on the glass panels had chains affixed for dangling plants and vines. Whole tables were covered in planters and starting seedlings. At the very center of the room was her brewing station. It was an organizational nightmare, but it worked for her thought process. An apothecary chest stood to the right of the table, within magic’s reach. Every little pull drawer was labeled neatly in Shuzine’s handwriting.
“What’s this? Forget you have a client coming for pickup? Scatterbrain. That’s what beauty spells will do to you. Rot your brain for those boobs.”
Tsunade elected to ignore Chiyo’s biting comments from the doorway. Her brain and boobs were fantastic.
“What are you making?”
She jumped. Sasori stood at her left, two paces away. “Brave boy, walking into the garden of a witch. Half the plants in here want to eat you.”
“They don’t feel like they do. . .” he looked around, his expression and tone neutral. “They seem content.”
Tsunade set about chopping the necessary ingredients for the fever reducer. “You can sense that, huh? Interesting.” She would think over his words after the knife work was done.
“Like I said, we brought you something better than the ingredients. Well, we brought some of those too. But, Sasori here brewed the necessary potion. Go ahead, boy, give it to her. She’ll want to inspect it before giving it to the girl.” Chiyo waved the boy on, her voice surprisingly proud.
Sasori nodded and flipped open the pouch that ran across his body. A fat glass bottle was nestled inside, and quickly removed by the boy and handed to her.
Tsunade paused a moment before she took it in her hands. It looked to be the right shade of purple. Its thick body slid around in the jar, trailing down the sides. There was a faint sparkle inside, too. Soft and golden refracting specks of magic.
“Impressive.” Tsunade unscrewed the lid and smelled the metal top, a much safer practice than wafting or sticking her nose right into the potion. “Smells fresh, too. This potion takes hours to brew, and then you had hours on the train. What did you use to preserve it?”
Chiyo took a step forward. “He used—”
“I asked him.” Tsunade snipped. “What did you use, boy?” She glared down at him. Pressure was something clients loved to apply. They wanted the knowledge of brewing, even though they had no understanding of it. Teachers of the academy, too. Chiyo was a hag, but she also had soft spots. Was her grandson one of them? Would he actually hold up under the pressures of the magical word—or would he crumble and retreat into a lonely castle in the middle of nowhere?
He swallowed and met her gaze. “I dried several of the herbs and flowers used. Then I extracted them into alcohol for three days. After, I boiled that down into a paste, then mixed it all together with the needed oasis water.” Sasori’s answer was matter-of-fact. He kept his hands folded at his stomach, not in an uncomfortable-looking manner, but as if that was their natural resting place. His eyes practically glowed while he answered her, though. The spark of nature's magic within him. Tsunade could feel the plants of the room whispering their uses to him, even if he couldn’t fully understand them yet.
Tsunade resealed the jar, swirled it a few times, and handed it back to him. “All right. Go give this to Sakura.”
His eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yes you . If you brewed the potion, you should be the one to hand it to your patient. No use in passing anything off as your masters. Accountability is important, both for the things you did wrong and well.”
He held the jar between two small hands, staring at the shimmering flecks dancing about.
Slowly, he nodded his head.
Sakura’s room was bright. Tsunade refused to draw the curtains shut during the day. Sunlight was magical in its own right. The small white framed bed sat right in front of the window. The golden light warmed the white blankets piled up on Sakura’s small body. Her fever seemed to have spiked if the sweat gathering on her forehead was any indication.
“Go on.” Tsunade nudged him forward.
Sasori had seemed unsure during the walk from the greenhouse to the room, but he was absolutely frozen at the sight of Sakura. His entire face grew red. Likely fear blooming as he realized the potion he made was actually going to be consumed by someone.
He staggered forward, the potion sloshing inside the glass. Once he reached her bedside, Sasori set the glass jar down on the nightstand then jostled Sakura.
“Hey. Wakeup, you sick girl.” He spoke, voice tense.
Sakura groaned, her face drawing tight into a wince.
“He’s doing a wonderful job, isn’t he?” Chiyo asked, leaning closer to Tsunade’s side.
“A wonderful job at annoying her,” Tsunade whispered back.
They both watched the interaction unfold. Sasori waking Sakura up successfully, her almost vomiting on his shoes, and nervous looks cast from both toward their masters as the potion was handed off then slowly drank.
“It tastes like nighttime, if that makes sense?” Sakura whet her lips several times as Sasori took the jar back and replaced it in his pouch.
“That’s because there’s night peony in there. They only grow around where I live.” Sasori reclasped his hands on his stomach. “It’s good for separation magic, because as a peony it should be tracking the sunlight, but this species only tracks moonlight, which is sunlight reflected, but still.” He fumbled his words slightly, gaze shifting around Sakura’s face and the room.
“Interesting. What else is it good for?” Color slowly returned to Sakura’s face as she further sat up against the thin metal bars of the headrest. Sasori seemed to take that as an invasion to sit down on the bed beside her, legs hanging off the slide, crossed at his ankle.
“I want to make a proposal,” Chiyo whispered. Her voice graveled slightly as she spoke, almost as if the words pained her.
“I’m listening.” Tsunade responded, her eyes not leaving the children.
“Sasori seems to do well with potion making and working alongside plants. His passion is alchemy, but I was wondering if he could learn anything from you. Perhaps alongside this little girl you’ve found.” Chiyo’s voice lost all gravel and instead turned toward what Tsunade could only describe as a soft, grandmotherly tone. “I could teach her the art of alchemy, as well.”
“Her parents agreed that she could only study six months of the year. Three in the summer, three in the winter. That isn’t much time for her to learn both.” Tsunade pursed her lips, mulling through the idea.
“They have eight years before they can attend the academy. That would be four years of potion and apothecary studies and four of alchemy. I think that sounds well rounded compared to what some students go into the academy with.”
She leaned against the doorway, watching the two children chatter. Sakura smiled, revealing two missing baby teeth, and eagerly spouted off about the magic relics in her parent’s shop. Sasori perked up when she mentioned the shop was in the same city as the trainstation they arrived at.
“I’ll speak with her parents.”
Chiyo made an annoyed grumbling sound in the back of her throat.
“Sasori is welcome here. The summer. I fear winters here would destroy him.”
“That they would. Sakura’s needs would be met inside the castle. And your older apprentice, Shizune, would be welcome to accompany her the first month or so. Should she wish it.”
Tsunade whipped her head to the side. “You would allow her into your castle?”
Chiyo’s closed eyes and tight-lipped smile spoke more words than she did aloud. “I can sense the magic in her, just as you can in Sasori. It is a sort of magic that deserves pride to be cast aside. Besides, I can’t stay truly mad at myself forever.”
“These two children are going to drive us insane though. It doesn’t take a blessing in divination to tell that.”
“I know it. But, they’re going to be great.”
Tsunade nodded her head. “I agree. They’ll have no choice to be anything but with us as their masters.”
Arlla Train Station - June 7 1951 SO
“Did I get the right time from Master Tsunade?” Sakura leaned forward and back on her toes. The old wooden floor of the train station threatened to place a splinter into her foot, but movement was all she had to dispel the anxious energy that coursed through her veins.
Checking her watch wouldn’t do her any good. She could feel the ticking of times passing. Hours, minutes, and seconds were all known to her. Flowers and bushes which surrounded the station breathed daylight in very specific ways. It was just after three in the afternoon.
The train schedule said Southbound trains arrived in Arlla thrice a week, always at three o’clock. Perhaps she got the day wrong. Plants were no good when it came to telling her the days of the week. For that, a calendar was required. And, more often than not, Sakura didn’t spare it a single glance before leaving the cottage.
“The walk is an hour. . . I don’t want to have to do it four times this week.”
No one else crowded the station platform. She was the only one here waiting to collect someone. This had to be a sign. Even the station attendants had given her weird looks when she mentioned what train she would be waiting to collect from.
Her right hand reached up toward her face, searching for loose strands of hair to fiddle with. But it wasn’t down and covering her face. Master's first apprentice gifted Sakura with a beautiful red hair ribbon. Leaving her hair down in front of her face was far from recommended when working on different potions. And the two of them were convinced Sakura’s fiddling with her hair when anxious was a bad habit.
‘This will build your confidence! If you can’t fidget and fiddle, you’ll have to face the things which make you anxious!’ Shizune knelt down in front of her and plucked the ribbon from the gift box. ‘It’s also for safety. We can’t have your hair catching fire or getting dragged into any of the potions we’re working on. Can’t have anyone getting sick because of our medicines, can we?’ She smiled and worked the ribbon around Sakura’s face, tied it into a bow, and then slid it back onto the top of her head.
‘But, what if people stare at my forehead?’ Sakura chewed her lip. How was a ribbon going to help her confidence if it highlighted every insecurity she had?
‘People will.’ Shizune spoke the words with vigor. ‘And people may make comments, or poke fun at you.’
‘I don’t think I want this gift, I’m sorry.’ Sakura scrambled to pull the ribbon off of her head.
Shizune shook her head then slowly held Sakura’s hands in her own. ‘We cannot control other people. Not what they think, not what they do or say. Anything. All we can do is present ourselves and be okay with that. So, I want you to be okay with Sakura. Be a Sakura that makes you proud and safe. Because in the end, that’s all that matters. And the safety of our patrons,’ Shizune laughed.
It took a few moments, but Sakura giggled with her. Faint, breathy giggles.
It was a step forward.
A whistle cut through the air. Rapidly approaching the wooden platform was a sleek black train with plums of smoke billowing from the chutes.
It called again and slowly crawled into the station.
“All passengers! We’ve arrived at Arlla Station! This is the last stop on the line. The train will follow the same route back, top of the hour. Again, all passengers ,” the attendant cried from a small window at the front of the train. The message was repeated thrice before the doors opened with a soft hiss and steps lowered down.
She hadn’t been wrong. Today was the day.
The plants breathed in. It was warm. Not a cloud in the sky. Perfect humidity for most of the plant life in the area.
The plants exhaled. It was a quarter after three in the afternoon. The sun, brilliant in the height of the sky, warmed them down to their roots.
Her shoulders relaxed, fingers clasped loosely in front of her pale skirt. Summer marked three months of shared study in botany and potion crafting. Months of lingering sun and studies. Bonfires with chocolatey sweets and bubbling sodas.
“The train was held up two stations back by an elderly couple. They were moving across the country and deemed it fitting to pack their house onto the train instead of a cart. Truly rude of them. Causing everyone else to be late. I’m sorry you had to wait for me.” There he stood, her friend and companion in trouble making.
His eleven year old frame was still on par with her own, keeping them eye level. Sakura wondered how tall he would grow to be. Things didn’t grow well in the desert—or most things didn’t. She could list a myriad of plants that grow exceptionally well in the desert. Would Sasori be one of them?
“That’s all right. I don’t mind waiting for a friend.” Sakura dug through her purse for his purple amulet. A ‘gift’ from Master Tsunade. Sakura wore an identical necklace during her apprenticeship. It was imbued with sensory magic—which allowed Master Tsunade to have a peek into their trouble making. Sasori took the amulet and placed it over his head.
One of the train attendants began unloading luggage into a pile on the other end of the platform. A group of passengers crowded around it. Sakura and Sasori held back, waiting.
“Where are the others?” His amber eyes shifted about the platform. “Are they in the washroom?” At the mention of the facilities, Sasori rubbed at his tawny hands. He wasn’t fond of public washing rooms. Sakura couldn’t blame him.
She kicked at a little pebble on the platform. “No. I came by myself.”
His brows furrowed while his eyes grew wide. “You made the walk here all on your own? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No,” Sakura smiled. “The walk is pretty nice. And while the town may have a few rough spots, they aren’t close enough to any of the paths I take. Besides, when I’m not with Master Tsunade, I live here. I go to school in the spring and parts of the fall.”
“You talk as if I don’t know those facts about you.” Sasori muttered about with his words as they made their way over to the now less crowded pile of baggage and retrieved his things.
“But now I’ll have you to walk with me for the rest of the summer!” Sakura spun around in a circle, using the weight of one of Sasori’s bags to help her twirl. “It’ll be great.”
He took the bag from her then handed her a lighter one. “Indeed. Someone has to watch out for you.”
Sakura kept point as they left the station and began meandering through town.
“Do you want to get something to eat before we head back? I know a great little sweets shop! We could have some tea and cakes. I’ve seen a lot of my classmates there, but I haven’t been able to go.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well.” Sakura paused, head tilted upward. “I didn’t want to go alone. I don’t really have many friends. Not that anyone is mean to me. I just. . . Don’t connect with them like I have with you, or Master Tsunade, Shizune, and Master Chiyo. They view my magic as something weird and old.” She frowned, her lips pursing together in a slight pout to keep from fully frowning. Starting off their summer of learning and adventures with a frown didn’t seem the best idea.
Sasori shifted the bags he carried. “Well, so long as my luggage won’t get in the way, I think it sounds nice. The train offers terrible food, you’ve eaten it.”
Her stomach cramped. “I wouldn’t call it food or eating. More like surviving. But the cafe should be good.” She smiled back at him and found his face warm and soft in expression.
“Lead the way. It’ll be the perfect way to begin our summer.”