Chapter Text
Sakura Haruno is not weak.
There is a lot she isn't, in fact. But definitely, without a doubt, is not weak. She knows this well about herself, and so does everyone else in the leaf village. So does Sasuke.
Despite the fact that the Uchiha has yet to see anything she can do. Just a punch through a rock wall, nothing more.
And there is a lot more than that.
Relieving her friend of an idiotic responsibility he had taken on so long ago, for his own sake, and for hers, is one of the things she can do. Despite how long she had known Sasuke, despite her feelings, despite who she used to be, and despite herself currently. She can do this. She can do this now.
And, to be honest, when she thinks about it too long, it almost makes her sad. But that wasn't acceptable, and she had learned well from Lady Tsunade over the years, that sometimes, you just have to amputate a dead limb. And there is no use crying over it. The body will live on, better off, without the broken, sick, dead weight. It will adapt. It will live on. The leaf village will live on. Kakashi, herself, Naruto. Naruto will be fine, she tells herself. And she will be fine.
Sakura shoves her self-convincing thoughts into her backpack, along with kunai and food pills. And, despite her medical prowess, she also packs a spare first-aid kit, a bargaining chip for an uncertain mind. Always have a plan B, and C, after all.
Sakura tries very hard, at least these days, to not think about Sasuke. For her own well being. But that has been proven very difficult when her closest friend and teammate is borderline obsessed. He's almost more obsessed than she used to be.
Those times ago, when Sasuke was all she could think about. Being put on the same team with him was probably the worst outcome that could have happened. She was such a fool, so in love with his coldness, the way he ignored her, it just made her want him to pay her even a glance that much more, desperate for it. Those dark eyes could heal any ailment, she swore it.
But she hardly progressed. He was distracting. She was being held back by her own idiotic, childish crush, pinning her down by her hair.
Sakura reaches her hand to her pink strands, her hair is short still. She likes it this way, it's practical. She actually became fond of it, quicker than she thought she would when she had first taken a kunai to it herself, that day in the Chunin exams. Interesting memories now, those times.
That was the day she let go of Sasuke. Well, for the most part. He plagues her mind like a bad cold she can't shake, reminders often from Naruto's voice.
Sakura stretches an elastic hair tie over her hand, wearing it on her wrist. A habit she started, carrying one around with her. Even short, her hair finds its way in her face more and more these days, with her body frequently required to perform tasks she wouldn't have dreamed of doing when she were twelve. Now that Tsunade is her teacher, she finds herself more often than not hunching forward over patients, or something else more athletic.
She places herbs and notes in her bag, next to her weapons, and against her bargaining chips.
The Squad 7 portrait stays on her bedside table, facing her as she packs. It's been watching her for days now. Ever since she started planning this, she couldn't help but notice, more than ever, Naruto's and Sasuke's and Kakashi Sensei's eyes. It starts to annoy her, so she slams it face-down on the wood.
Being put on the same team with him was probably the worst outcome that could have happened. Because now that it's just her and Naruto, she feels like somebody. Hell, when it's just her and Tsunade, she feels like somebody important.
And these are probably harsh, spiteful thoughts. But it's the truth. Those two boys were always competing, and Sakura would get caught in the middle of it. She was the glue that held the team together, that was her role, her mother would tell her. Which, she used to take pride in. Her being glue used to be enough for her. It seemed fitting enough, she was sticky as Hell, every word either of them said to her stuck with her longer than she'd like to admit.
But Sakura became tired of being the glue, over the years.
And Sakura became tired of being in love.
She fits a rain cloak into her bag, and with that, she's ready to go. Soon, anyway. She will see herself to the flower shop first, grab some herbs she needed for the medicine balls she planned on making for Naruto. If this might be her last day here, she should leave them with some support.
Being put on the same team with him was definitely the worst outcome that could have happened. Look at where it's gotten her, now.
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The flower shop is the same as it always was, warm and humid inside, and the smell of fresh soil upon entry. Sakura is greeted with nostalgia, and an immediate, short anxiety, a brief thump of her heart, as the memory of every single reason she ever needed to step foot in this place shoots through her mind like it has any right to be there.
But it's brief. No one is in the hospital today, no one she knows.
She walks in without acknowledging her trauma response and turns for the herbs. She passes the daffodils on the way.
"Well well, if it isn't Sakura-the-Shut-In," Ino's voice slices through the calm around her, and suddenly this room feels incredibly dry.
Sakura can't be bothered to feel offense, after all, Ino was right. She has been spending a lot of her time studying, training, working, failing to bring Sasuke home, planning. And part of her did expect to see her working today. This interaction wasn't a surprise.
"Ino," she replies, and holds back on the name calling. Which seems to bother the blonde, an annoyed pinch between her brow, but she still grins. Sakura places her herbs on the check out desk, not paying her much attention. This also seems to bother her.
"Don't give me that, I haven't seen you in a whole week, and you think you can act all cool?" Ino presses, as she rings up Sakura's stock.
"I have half a mind not to give you my discount."
"Fine by me, I have the money," Sakura replies boredly, and she never expects charity from her old classmate, yet she always gets it. Ino blows a frustrated puff of air through her bangs and brushes off Sakura's frost.
"What are you up to with this stuff, then?"
Sakura has to hand it to Ino, her ability to keep a conversation going is impressive. She smiles a bit for her. It is nice to see her rival before she leaves.
"I'm making something for Naruto's training," she answers, short and sweet. Ino's thin, perfectly plucked eyebrows go up, her grin changing to something more genuine and inquisitive.
Ino has always been one to press. Every button Sakura had, in fact. And she admits, she has always been pretty distant with Ino. Keeps her at an arms length, only ever tells her the bare minimum. But she feels she gets an inhospitable treatment from her right back, everything out of the Yamanaka's lips is a challenge, and one Sakura usually can't help but entertain.
"Naruto? What are you, his mom now?" Ino asks innocently, bagging up Sakura's herbs. Sakura wills the vein in her forehead not to pop out.
"Just an intuitive team mate, make sure he doesn't work himself unconscious and all."
"Well good luck with that. You know Naruto," the bagged herbs are handed over, with care, Sakura receives them, refusing to break eye contact.
"He really oughta give it a rest, you know, with the whole trying-to-bring-Sasuke-home thing."
Ino speaks as though she were giving a warning. Sakura feels the challenging playfulness in the air dissipate.
"I don't think he understands what he's up against," Ino concludes, with an unexpected precariousness that makes Sakura's brows raise.
Sakura knows that Ino always acts like she knows everything. She always has, and the problem with it, the problem with Ino, is that she was always right. It makes Sakura boil inside. Of course though, it's not exactly a great feat to make Sakura Haruno angry. But the cool she was keeping was starting to remind her how warm it is in this flower shop.
"Listen, Ino, why don't you worry about your own team?" The question passes through her lips coldly, she swears she sees the steam rise from each syllable.
"I've got my own to get back to, if you'll excuse me."
Sakura's money is placed on the counter, an amount that disregards the employees discount she was being granted. Ino seems like she can't speak, her brow heavy with what Sakura can only describe as confusion. Her eyes look down to the money in front of her, back up to Sakura. Her lips part like she wants to speak, but she doesn't. Sakura knows she's won this one, and doesn't need to stick around for the prize.
"Hey," Sakura smiles small, just for her.
"Thank you, Ino."
And Sakura turns her back to her, and takes her leave out of the flower shop.