Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Chakra is a life force fundamental to all living creatures. Walking, talking, even laughing is fueled by invisible amounts of it. Divided into spiritual and physical energy…”

Iruka’s sensei voice faded away as Sakura began to doodle. It's not that she wanted to be disinterested, but there were only so many times she could hear something, before her brain processed it in long-term storage, and moved on.

Sasuke wasn’t listening either, but that was no surprise. He was gazing through the window, his black hair glimmering like midnight silk. He seemed to just know all the answers.

“Yang energy is used in taijutsu, while yin energy is used in genjutsu. Ninjutsu is a combination of the two. Not to forget chakra control. Can anyone tell me what chakra control is?”

“I can tell you!” Standing on his desk, with his hands on his hips, was Uzumaki Naruto. “Chakra control is boring, boring, boring, so boring, and more boring!”

“Naruto,” Iruka-sensei hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

They’re so loud, Sakura thought. She continued her doodling, and the image of a kitten took place—playing with a ball of yarn. She drew and drew until she could draw no more, and she set her pencil down, and laid her head down on her arms.

She imagined rolling in a field of hay, straw gleaming gold in her hair, the sun beating gloriously against her skin.
There would be an ever so irritating voice, constantly saying her name, sounding suspiciously like,

“Naruto, what do you want?” Sakura lifted her head, looking at him with drawn brows.

“Sakura-chan,” he sang.

“Don’t call me that.”

“You’re always so mean to me, dattebayo!”

“Leave me alone.”

“No, you leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Sakura set her head back down, but it wasn’t long before Naruto said, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I want to go to sleep, Naruto. You always bother me.”

“No, I don’t!”

He was staring at her, and she wished she knew what he wanted, with those cerulean eyes of his. “Fine, “ she said, and her voice held that tinge of child-like petulance. “If you can prank Iruka-sensei without getting caught, then I’ll talk to you.”

“Really?” He leaned forward. “But I can’t do it right now, ‘cuz he’s watching. Later today?”

“You can do it during lunch, when he leaves for the bathroom.” Sakura didn't know who he was fooling. He always got caught: It was one of the indisputable truths of the world.

“What should I do then?” He placed a finger on his chin. “Hmm. Should I put senbon on his chair, or put paint in a bucket, or make some ramen, and leave it in the air conditioner?”

Sakura shook her head. “No, no, and no. What you should do is…” she whispered to him, a smirk pulling the corner of her lips.

Naruto’s mouth parted, and he descended into giggles. “Sakura-chan, you’re so funny.”

She glanced at Iruka-sensei, and said, “Don’t be too mean.”

Naruto nodded, stating almost haughtily, “I always am.”

“If you get caught, you’re not going to tell him I helped you, right?”

“Dattebayo, Sakura-chan! I would never, since I really, really like you.”

“Oh.”

Iruka-sensei wouldn’t believe him anyways. Still, as she prepared to nap, Sakura had the strangest sense of perturbation.

By the time lunch came around, Naruto was practically buzzing in his chair, all anticipation and sunshine blonde
hair. Sakura—bento perched in her lap, and chopsticks clasped in her hand—didn’t have nearly as much fervor.

What she really wanted to do was eat.

Her fellow peers were heading outside. Some conferred with friends, while others raced across the grass. Iruka-sensei gave them all a long look, his band of mischief-makers, and left the room.

Naruto turned to Sakura, smiling, who gave a smaller one in turn. He scurried forward, grabbing the handful of pencils and thread he’d need for the prank, and began setting it up.

His fingers flashed like bronze lightning, darting this way and that. He had an intuition for these sorts of things, it seemed.

The students who decided to stay in, such as Shino and Hinata, also observed him.

He had just finished when Iruka came sauntering in. He was muttering something beneath his breath, but still noticed the red string on his chair. “Naruto,” he said, “you aren’t trying to prank me again, are you?”

The string was tied around a pencil, which was very loosely lodged in the chair. It would have flattened had he sat on it.

Iruka looked up, and saw the elaborate contraption of thread, chalk, and pencil Naruto made, high in the ceiling. “You made it easy this time. Obvious, too.” He sighed. “Detention, again. Does nothing go through that thick head of—?”

What Iruka didn’t notice was the second string, connected to the one in the chair. Unlike the others, the fabric was transparent, and was fisted in Naruto’s hand. He pulled it.

The pencil fell.

Iruka’s eyes widened. A barrage of pencils came flying at him. He ducked beneath them, deflecting most with a kunai from his holster, but one still managed to slip past, and sink into his arm.

Crimson bloomed.

Sakura blinked, her gut clenching. She really couldn’t be associated with this now.

“Iruka-sensei,” Hinata squeaked.

Shino echoed her.

“Iruka-sensei, you got hurt!” Naruto shouted.

“I can see that, Naruto.” For some reason, Iruka was smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me. None of you do.” He raised his voice, the breadth of his shoulders never seeming straighter.

“The nurse here will patch me right up. What happened here was an accident, and I don’t expect to hear a word of it from the other students. You understand?” He looked at each of them directly in the eye.

Hinata cast her pale gaze askew, but the rest dutifully chorused, “Yes, sensei.”

“Good.” He turned to Naruto. “Now, Naruto, I hope you’re excited. We’re going to be best friends after the month you spend here after class.”

“Month? But that means you’re giving me detention for..” Horror dawned on Naruto’s face. “One month.”

“These pranks of yours are getting out of hand. One day, I’m scared you’ll do something you can’t get out of it.” He gently shook his head at him, and raised a thumbs-up to the class.

But right before he left, Naruto yelled, “Wait! I have something to say.” He hesitated for a moment, eyes straying, before saying, “I had help.”

Iruka-sensei tilted his head. “Who did you have help from, Naruto?”

No, no, no. Sakura wanted to flee from the class, right then and there, as Naruto’s blue, met with her light green.

“Sakura.”

***

In the end, it was decided that Sakura would have two weeks of detention. Iruka-sensei told her, in no light terms, that he was very disappointed, and had expected much better from her.

She cried, “But I just wanted Naruto to leave me alone!”

Unfortunately, that seemed to have the opposite effect of what she intended, and Iruka-sensei just got madder at her.

It was the first time in her life where she was so severely scolded, and she loathed it. She wanted to breathe fire at Iruka-sensei, force him to see her side of the story, but her words fell on silent ears.

When she asked Naruto why he sold her out, he said almost shyly, “It would be fun if we could hang out with each other after class.”

Sakura wanted to slap him; instead, she huffed and walked away.

Now, beneath the swish and sway of emerald trees, she headed home nearly an hour and a half after class had ended. Her parents were surely worried about her, and wouldn’t be happy about the conference with Iruka-sensei the next day.

Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of their disappointment, because while Iruka-sensei’s was awful, theirs would be gut-wrenching. She took a left, and to her confusion, found a great sign before the path she usually took home.

It read, “Under construction, use the Fujimori Road.”

But the Fujimori Road took nearly an hour longer than Hashi’s! she bemoaned. She couldn’t help herself; she peeked to the left and right of the sign, and upon finding no obvious discrepancies, took a step forward.

At first, nothing happened. But a second later, her foot sank into the concrete.

“Gross!”

Today had to be the worst day in the history of days. Sakura firmly believed that.

It was by dusk when she finally neared home—waves of midnight blue clashed with the sunflower yellow and scorched orange of the sky. Sakura was only too eager to read the days' woes behind her.

The final obstacle was a looming copse of trees, fragrant with cedar, the wind whistling through their branches. It was a rather eerie scene, and honestly, was there nowhere else for her to go?

She gulped, taking a step forward. Immediately, she heard a voice crying out: “Help! Damn it, someone help me!”

She stopped mid-motion. Carefully, she looked around herself. She knew there was no one nearby, but she didn’t want to. She really, really, didn’t want—

Brambles sliced her skin, and mulch stuck to her sandals as she descended into the forest. “Where are you?” she called. “Where are you?” But there was no answer.

She tripped, and danced, and sprinted, and it was only when her hair had become more tangled than smooth, and her clothes had become more mud than fabric, did she catch the fragrance of blood, unfurling roses in the air.

Sakura followed it, until she caught sight of a boy, laying on the ground. The first thing she noticed was his hair: It glimmered in the sunlight, just like Sasuke’s, a pure ebony black. Then, she saw his arm.

Or what was an arm, since the mangled lump of flesh and bone only bore a passing resemblance to one. The sight was so startling to Sakura that she took a step back.

Tears blurred her vision.

Perhaps, if Naruto hadn’t done that prank, and the Hashi Road had never been closed, and a million other things hadn’t occurred, then she wouldn’t be in this situation.

But they did, and now she was through the looking glass.

She had to help him, somehow. She had to… check if he was still alive. The tears were flame, and she the tinder, but she didn’t let them consume her. She wiped them clean, pressing her ear to his chest.

Half of his body was in a similar state to his arm, including his face, so she had to be rather ginger.

She didn’t hear a thing at first—only the wind weaving through the trees. She pressed harder, and there! came the faintest pulse. “He’s still alive, Sakura,” she murmured, “but you have to get him help now.”

But as she rose, so did he. He blinked at her, every feature contorted in agony. She whimpered.

“Who are you?” he asked, and not a second later, collapsed back down.

“Shinobi-san,” she cried. “Shinobi-san!”

But he was unmoving, and with the steel of his hiate glinting in her eyes, Sakura ran for help.

Alas, running for help was only effective if you knew where you were going; instead, Sakura ran to get lost and generally cause herself anxiety.

Her feet pounded against the mulch as she passed by the same tree, with the same chestnut gleam and furl of leaves.

She imagined the boy’s corpse basking in the sunlight and shuddered. She wished she was at home. She wasn’t a shinobi; she should’ve ran to get her parents.

But for some reason, she didn’t regret coming.

Sakura tried for what felt like hours longer, even as the moon rose, and owls hooted. At the end of it, she was kneeling, her breaths coming and going in sharp gasps.

The tree with the chestnut gleam and furl of leaves mocked her.

With her mouth pressed into a line, Sakura punched it, and her hand exploded in pain.

“Ow! Ow! Kami-sama! Why me!”

Sakura didn’t know who needed the saving anymore.

Him, or her.

She had to find her way back to him. Do something. Maybe, she could wrap his wounds with her dress. But shouldn’t she have done that already? She didn’t know.

She just didn’t know.

It was by midnight, she believed, when she found her way back to him.

She didn’t bring help, or anything other than the scabs and bruises that littered her body.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she was scared, and he was there. She wondered what her parents would think as she laid down beside him, huddling into his side.

Weren’t corpses supposed to be cold? she thought.

Tears dripped down her face.

When she next woke up, he was gone, and a man with a shock of silver hair stood before her. “You are in a lot of trouble, young miss,” he said.

Sakura took one look at him, and went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, there was never any boy. In fact, was Sakura quite alright, and not suffering from heat stroke?

She wasn’t.

The man who had saved her, Hatake Kakashi, heard her parents calling her name, and offered them his help. By liberal use of a talking dog(?), he found her. He stayed long enough for her parents to express their gratitude, before vanishing in a swirl of leaves.

Sakura wished she could do the same. Her parents were… indignant, to say the least.

“Sakura,” her mother hissed.

“Sakura,” her father bellowed.

“Oh, no, Sakura,” she muttered.

Peace, it seemed, was a lifetime away.

She didn’t want to be there when they found out she had detention. She had all intentions of informing them, but with these newest advancements, well, a dog knew when to bark.

Perhaps, she had a newfound extracurricular?

Yeah, right.

When she was brought home, her parents let her stay in for the day. Her books were confiscated, of course, but they left her journal behind. Sakura took the time to jot down her thoughts—about the boy, especially.

He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Far from it, he needed her. He was in pain when she left, and she didn’t know what happened to him. The image of him lingered in her mind, and she blinked it back, rubbing her eyes.

If only she was less helpless…

With her impotence coiling in her gut, she snuggled into her blankets, falling into an uneasy slumber. She read once that dreams were gateways to alternate realities, where even a slight deviation could lead to innumerable possibilities.

Still—upon opening her eyes to find the boy staring at her, his mouth agape—she wondered just where she was.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

Sakura screamed. “I knew you were real!” she shouted.

He smiled, but it was more dreary than merry. “Of course I am. Just maybe only you know that for now.”

As her vision adjusted, she saw gray. Grays walls, gray rocks, and a gray floor.

Her room was decidedly not gray.

“Where are we?” she asked. Then, “Who bandaged you?” and, “Your arm!”

Bands of white enveloped his face, and where his arm was, laid only the smooth skin of his torso.

“You ask a lot of questions, especially for someone in hell,” he answered darkly. “We’re in Satan’s lair. Do you know that you’re dead?”

“No,” she whispered. “You’re lying.”

Predictably, he burst out laughing.

“You should see your face. You look so scared!”

“I’m not scared. You’re scared.” She weaved a hand through her hair, pressing her lips together.

His laughter died down, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry,” he said. “Too soon? If anything, I should be asking you questions. I came in here to find you asleep.”

Sakura shook her head, taking a step back. “How did you get here when you were in the middle of the forest? My Okaa-san said you were make-believe, and I don’t believe her, but you’re all healthy now, and I don't know where I am, and it just doesn’t make sense!”

“Listen, I know about as much as you do.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I remember being crushed by a bunch of rocks, seeing you, and then being healed by some super old guy called Uchiha Madara.”

He chuckled, but his eyes turned somber. “I thought you were a dream, you know, and I thought for sure that I was going to die. But I’m going to get better now, with a new arm and everything.

“Then I’m going to go back to Konoha, pummel Kakashi with my sharingan, marry Rin, and become Hokage. It’s a good plan, yeah?”

His resolve cast him in gold—bled his black eyes blue.

“Uchiha Madara-sama,” she sniffed. “But he’s dead.
Why is he healing you?”

“I owe him the debt of my life,” he proclaimed. “Sometimes, we shouldn’t intrude into other people's businesses.”

A delicate crinkle appeared between Sakura’s brows, but before she could reply, a voice called, “Now, what do we have here?”

Sakura and Obito both turned to it.

He was naked was her first thought. He isn’t human was her second.

At that moment, she realized she was in over her head.

“Tobi,” he called.

“Obito,” the other greeted.

Obito. His name was Obito.

“Who’s your friend?” Tobi asked, and Sakura shivered, for where his face was supposed to be were swirls radiating from an eye.

“Sakura-chan? She was lost in the woods. From one of those small villages, I think. She looked scared, so I brought her inside.” He ruffled her hair. “She’s cute, ne?”

“Obito, you know you’re not supposed to leave. Madara will be disappointed.” His voice was as apathetic as his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Obito said. “What he doesn't know won’t hurt him, right?” He smiled, but his grip on Sakura tightened.

Then, “Very well.” Tobi bowed in a sinuous, yet rather stiff movement. “I’ll be back in an hour to finish strengthening your muscles. Tomorrow, you’ll get a new arm.”

He didn’t leave by walking, no, he sank into the wall.

“What was that thing?” Sakura asked, her voice catching. “Obito-san, we need to go back home.”

“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “Besides, I have to finish rehabilitation, and it’s unfair for you to wait for me to finish it. I’ll get one of those.. things to take you back. Madara called them a specific something, but I forgot.”

“You forgot? That’s something Naruto would do,” mumbled Sakura.

But for some reason, he didn’t bother her nearly as much.

“Naruto?” He grinned, all shiny teeth and bronze skin. “He sounds like an interesting fellow.”

Just as Sakura was about to inform him that no, he really wasn’t, she blinked, and opened her eyes to find a pink ceiling above her. Her pink ceiling.

Sunlight streamed in from the window, casting shadows against the wall.

“Sakura-chan, are you awake? Sakura-chan.”

“O-Okaa-san…”

Her mother pressed her pale hand against her forehead. “You were dreaming, dear. Did you have a nightmare?”

“A nightmare? What nightmare?” Sakura lifted herself up, her pastel hair cascading with the movement. She had just been with Obito. Now, she was here. Something wasn’t making sense…

Her mother didn’t look convinced, but she nodded nonetheless. “Dinners ready, if you’d like to join us.”

Sakura didn’t respond; instead, she pinched her arm.

“Did you just pinch yourself, Sakura?”

A blush dusted the high bridge of Sakura’s cheek. “No. Just…am I dreaming?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Okaa-san said sternly. “Let's go. You need to recover your energy after your escapade.”

Sakura inclined her head, dutifully trailing after her, but her thoughts lingered in the cave—in Obito.

“That wasn’t a dream either,” she murmured.

***

The following morning, Sakura hesitated by the Academy’s double doors. Iruka-sensei had been expecting her parents for a meeting nearly an hour ago.

She hadn’t informed them of her month-long detention, and wasn’t going to—ever.

She was left to do damage-control. The unfortunate part was that she had no idea as to how. Thoughts of deceased grandmothers, and sudden injuries filled her mind.

Could she realistically say her mother had broken an arm and a leg from a tumble down the stairs, and hence Sakura couldn’t inform her about the detention, because goodness Iruka-sensei she was half-dead?

She wasn’t sure.

She resolved to do so anyway.

Sakura entered the classroom, and just as she sat down in her seat, Iruka-sensei demanded, “Where are your parents? We were supposed to have a meeting an hour ago.”

Sakura gazed at him, preparing herself for the performance of a lifetime. “Iruka-sensei,” she began softly. “My mothers in the hospital. Late last night, she broke an arm and a leg from falling down the stairs.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued:

“My mother sees a lot of me in her, you know. I’m her precious daughter. I can't make mistakes, but I do. I really, really do, and I made a massive one yesterday.

“Before I left for the Academy today, she told me how proud of me she was. That she could be in the hospital without worry, because I was so mature and capable. Iruka-sensei.” Her voice broke on his name. “Please.”

Light shone in her eyes, and maybe it did in his, too, for he stood, sighing. He approached her, wrapping his arms around her slender shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sakura-chan. I won’t tell them, okay? You’re a smart girl.”

Sakura gripped his shirt, peering up at him. “You really mean it, sensei?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” He rubbed her back, then stepped aside. “Just be more considerate to Naruto. He goes through a lot every day. More than you know.”

“Hai, sensei. Does that mean I won’t be going to detention either?” She doubted she would, but just to make sure…

“No.”

Sakura blinked, taking a moment to process what he just said. “Pardon me?”

“You’re still going to detention, Sakura-chan. I’ll just be telling your parents you’re helping me out after school. Hmm.” He tapped a long finger against his chin. “Since your mothers in the hospital, I’ll write you a note to take to them.”

Sakura had to try very hard not to frown as she replied, “But that means you’re going to lie.”

Iruka-sensei arched a black brow. “I’m the one helping you out here.”

Before she could dig herself a deeper hole, she slid back into her seat. “Hai, sensei. I understand.”

Iruka-sensei smiled, slightly. “Don’t worry. I won’t have you do anything too hard.”

Sakura nodded, and he went back to his desk.

While the conversation didn’t go as well as she wanted, at least her parents wouldn’t know. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Just as class was about to start, Naruto slid in from the doorway, a figure cast in blazing orange. A decidedly foxy grin lit up his face as he caught sight of her. “Sakura-chan,” he said. “Are you excited for detention?”

She glanced at him. “Why would I ever be?”

“Why shouldn’t you? We’re going to have so much fun, just watch! We’ll talk, and play, and prank Iruka-sensei, and—”

“And what am I going to do, Naruto? Because those sound like things you want to do.” The urge to lock him in a closet, and lose the key nearly overwhelmed her. “We’re not having a party, baka,” she hissed.

Naruto faltered, storm clouds descending. “Oh.” Then, “We can have a funeral instead since you’re in the mood for that.”

That day, Sakura learned her ire had portentous depths, a fact which Naruto could direly attest to. When they had to stay behind for detention, Iruka-sensei separated them to the far ends of the classroom.

He told them to write down, ‘I will not pull pranks, or help pull them off with devilish peers’ one hundred times.

In Sakura’s opinion, it felt obtrusively forward—her hand began to cramp at number fifty-four.

Iruka-sensei left the room, a stack of papers in his hands. Naruto took the opportunity to approach her, his hands clenched at his sides. “What can I do to get you to forgive me, Sakura-chan?” he asked.

Forgiveness? she thought. He certainly wouldn’t be getting hers today. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—her mother had taught her that. His reply wasn’t foretold.

She knew that, but he did not.

“Erm, Sakura-chan, you can hear me, right?” Naruto waved his hand in front of her. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Her quiet scribbles filled the air, speaking to Naruto in a way her words couldn’t.

“So you’re really just going to ignore me? Just like the teme?”

Number seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five…

“Fine! Fine! You like..books, right? So I’ll get you the best books! What do you want? Just tell me, please!”

Books…her parents had confiscated hers, including the ones she checked out from the library. With her library card full, and an admittedly distraught relationship with the librarian (Sakura didn’t know either), she was all but forsworn from the premises.

But Naruto had never stepped in a library in his life. He had never uncovered its arcane knowledge, and more importantly, so had his card.

Sakura’s hand stopped moving, and she cast Naruto a searing glare. “Ten of the most comprehensive books about dreams you can find. If you don’t think Hokage-sama can understand them, then I don’t want them.”

He paused mid-motion, staring at her, resolve glimmering in his cerulean eyes.

A thought struck her: ‘He looks like Obito-san’.

After class ended, Sakura gave him the directions to the library, writing them down on three separate notes—one for his jumper, another in his backpack, and the third pressed to his hand.

It was more than fool-proof, and with hope, Naruto-proof.

She couldn’t stay long, however. Her parents would be expecting her home posthaste. She clutched the letter Iruka-sensei had given her, her sole shield against their rue.

She wondered, once sleep consumed her, if she would see him again.

Obito.

***

As it turned out, she did.

She found the same dreary shade of gray, painting the walls, the dusty ground, the ceiling which hung in tapered stalagmites. When she woke up last time, she was against the wall. This time, she was on a bedroll, the navy material tender to the senses.

It had to be Obito’s bedroll, she figured. It carried his scent—ash and cedar. Beside it were his hiate—the steel tarnished—an open bag of chips, a few wooden skewers, and a folded stack of clothes.

She also observed a collection of...skinned branches?

His possessions were admittedly drab, leaving both the space woefully bare, as well as Sakura’s curiosity. She found herself idle minutes later.

Where even was he? He was supposed to be here, a willing victim to her enquirers. If he wasn’t here, then he had to be out there—past the head of the chamber, where a gaping, dark maw pulsed with an infernal light.

The ostensible entrance and exit.

She wouldn’t leave herself, fearful of what awaited her as well as the ivory Tobi. She had compunctions of encroaching on her arrangement, too. What she was doing wasn’t natural. What if something happened to her when she left?

It was irrational, she knew, but as were the circumstances.

None of that held much impact, though, for Obito came whistling in, newly armed, and she meant it literally.

His lonesome eye widened upon seeing her, and he rushed over to her, shouting,“Oh, you’re back! You disappeared right in front of my eyes! Are you okay? Hurt? What happened?” His hands darted hither thither, concern radiating off of him.

“Obito-san.” Sakura gazed at him, then tilted her head, a distinctly bird-like motion. “My name is Haruno Sakura,” she said. “Please take care of me. Since one day ago, I’ve been coming here in my dreams.”

Obito froze for a moment, his mouth parting open. “What?” was his graceful response.

For some reason, Sakura flushed. “I’ve been coming here in my dreams, Obito-san.”

“That’s…”

“Preposterous? I know. But it’s the truth. I swear I’m not lying.”

Obito frowned, simply. “Okay, I believe you.” Then, he swept her off of her feet.

For a moment, Sakura didn’t compute what was happening, but she yelled quickly enough, “What are you doing? Let me down, Obito-san!”

“I need you to know that you’re not a dream,” he said. “I can touch you, hold you, smell you.” He brought his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply. “You actually smell really nice. I don’t really understand how or why you’re here, and maybe you don’t either, but don’t worry about it.”

Sakura had half a mind to fan her face, her cheeks burning so hotly. “That was never the issue,” she said. “And I always smell good. Ladies are hygienic, unlike men.”

“You’re still in the Academy,” he observed. “You’re not a lady yet.”

“Like you’re not a man?”

Obito grinned. “Am as much as a man as you’re not a lady.”

And Sakura forgot about everything else she was going to say.

Chapter Text

“So your teammates are Kakashi and Rin. Rin’s the kind medic who you love, while Kakashi is an arrogant, genuinely awful, bothersome know-it-all. Is that right, Obito-san?”

Obito scratched the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it like that, I don’t actually hate Kakashi. He’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Kakashi. Annoying, and arrogant, but also really strong and brave. My rival, who I’ll surpass no matter what.”

‘A rival’, she thought. Sakura thought of hers and Ino’s declaration in the meadows—their vow to compete for Sasuke-kun’s affection. How long and dark Ino’s shadow was.

“I have a rival, too,” she said. “She used to be my friend.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Ino and I both want Sasuke-kun.”

“Oh.” Obito’s nose scrunched up a little. “You’re fighting over a boy.”

“He’s not just any boy, Obito-san, but Sasuke-kun. He’s the coolest guy ever.” Even the mental image of him was enough to make a girl swoon. “You look a little like him, actually.”

“Really?” He raised his brows slightly, smiling, his eyes curving into crescent moons. He laid a hand on her head, patting it.

“Your hair’s so soft. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” He wrapped a lock of it around his finger. “Pretty.” Then, as if just noticing his lack of decorum (rest assured, Sakura noticed), he flushed, releasing it. “Sorry.”

“Your own hair is pretty long, Obito-san. Are you intending to grow it out?”

“My hair?” He weaved a hand through his thick tresses, reaching just above his shoulders. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Sakura gazed intently at him. “It looks like Sasuke-kun’s. Are you a Uchiha, too?” she asked. She had never seen one before, aside from Sasuke-kun, but the clan insignia stood stark. There had been others. She just wasn’t sure if there still were.

“Hai. I even have the dōjutsu now. Wanna see?”

“Dōjutsu…? Hold on, so you’re really a Uchiha? Why don’t I see you around Sasuke-kun then? Tell me everything you know about him!” she demanded.

Obito raised his hands. “You definitely know him better than me. Why would I know anything about him?”

“Wait, what?” She paused. “But you’re a Uchiha, Uchiha-san. There’s not a lot of you, ne?”

Obito shook his head. “There’s a ton of us, Sakura-chan. Besides, I go out on the field, so I’m kept busy. And don’t be so formal.”

‘Maybe the Uchiha clan compound was in the outskirts of Konoha?’ she pondered. As strange as it was, that would explain why she didn’t see them. They were also a prodigious shinobi clan, so they would be cycling in and out of missions.

She remembered trailing after Sasuke-kun one day, and having to go home, for how long he was walking.

Reassured, she listened as Obito asked, “So, wanna see my Sharingan?”

“That sounds weird,” she replied. “The Copy Wheel Eye?”

Obito grinned. “It’s only the coolest thing ever. Watch closely.” His eye, usually simmering with ebony shades, brightened into a lurid red, two tomoes forming a ring around his pupil.

“That is cool,” she agreed. Disconcerting, too.

“You like it, don’t you? I knew you would.”

Sakura glanced at her surroundings, the sheer rock frigid to her bare feet. “Is it scary outside? I mean, do you think
something would happen if we leave here?”

“No, why? Don’t be worried about Tobi. Do you want to go outside?”

Sakura didn’t know. She didn’t even know why she asked. She replied, “Kinda.”

“Do you want a piggyback ride?”

“Umm, no.”

He gave her one anyway. From her vantage, perched on his shoulders, the world seemed infinitely smaller. “You’re going to see a man. He’s Uchiha Madara,” said Obito. “Try not to grab his attention. I don’t know what he would do.”

Sakura remembered Obito mentioning him, but it hadn’t struck her ‘till then. Uchiha Madara-sama was a founder of Konoha, having fought Hashirama-sama, and then disappearing, presumed dead.

It wasn’t a name lightly spoken. He was a bona fide historical figure…

What had he been doing since then? There’s only been three world wars. His intentions with Obito couldn’t be solely altruistic. Did Obito see that? She figured you were allowed to intrude in other people's businesses when it concerned the welfare of a hidden village, or yourself.

“How would you describe Madara-sama? Is he scary?”

Sakura didn’t know her words were the trigger to a long-coming explosion. “He’s super scary!” exclaimed Obito. “I thought he was the Grim Reaper when I first saw him!”

“Really? Oh, wow.”

“Mhm! His eyes just pierce straight through you and into your soul. And not like regular people's eyes, but super special purple eyes. Seriously speaking, though, I owe him a lot, even if I don’t understand him sometimes.”

Sakura enquired, “Why do you think he’s here? Why hasn’t he gone back to Konoha? Something isn’t making sense here, Obito-san.”

Obito squeezed her ankles, his calloused hands warm. Firm. “You’ll see. He’s very old.”

She didn’t notice they had gone through the maw until a clearing opened up before them. Like Obito’s chamber, it was drenched in slate gray shades. Sakura took it all in, eventually gazing up on a throne of sorts.

That was him, she was sure: Uchiha Madara. A seated figure, neither regal nor slovenly. Decrepit, perhaps. Long alabaster hair concealed half his form, his attire being of a black robe, the ends of which pooling at his feet.

He was far enough away that she couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. Nonetheless, her skin prickled. They made their way to an opening in the wall, the barest rays of sunlight shining through. It was a narrow fit, the ceiling touching her head.

“And… we’re out!” Obito called.

Copses of trees loomed before them, their branches held aloft, thick with foliage. It was a stark contrast to the slate-gray cave. Sakura took it in with wide eyes. He set her down, asking, “How long do you think you’re going to stay?”

“Until I wake up, I think,” she replied. “My Okaa-san woke me up last time.” As she was speaking, she thought of how she didn’t meet him when she slept that night. Was it because of the nap?

She wasn’t sure.

“Hmm. We should probably make a list about all the rules and stuff, but I’d rather eat dango to be honest.”

“…Dango?”

“Yup. It’s very tasty, you know. I’m craving some actually. Let’s go.”

Sakura didn’t belabor the point. To dango, it was. Not the least of which because she also liked it. Together, they made their way to the village, following a well-worn trail.

Obito set an even pace, and had Sakura not been so inclined to ponder, the greenery would have been more than enough to stimulate her. It really was rather lush.

While Konoha was named for its leaves and trees, they took to the turn of seasons more often than not.

Here, it had to be an endless spring.

They reached a stand, where Obito graciously parted with a few ryō. The dango was brightly colored, its sweet scent wafting in the air—perfect globes of tender deliciousness. Sakura was only too eager to eat them.

They sat down on a bench, watching the passerby.

Obito chewed his, frowning.

“Why are you making that face, Obito-san?”

“Was I? Sorry. I was just thinking of ways to entertain you. I can’t have you bored spending time with me, Sakura-chan!”

Sakura shook her head. “You don’t have to try so hard. Do they have a bookstore here? I’ll pay you back, and for the dango too.”

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything, Sakura-chan. It’s fine.”

“Oh.”

He tried to pat her head, but she pushed his hand away. “Stop doing that. I’m not a dog.”

“Nope.”

“I said stop it!”

They pushed at each other, their hands locked together. It seemed to be an equal match, before Obito overpowered her. “I win,” he cheered, but to her surprise, didn’t take his prize.

Still, she huffed. “Are you even allowed to spend time with me?”

“Maybe before I got my replacements, but right now I’m just training, getting used to them. I think Madara’s waiting for something.”

“What would he be waiting for?”

“I don’t know, Sakura-chan. I don’t know.”

***
Class had begun for three hours when Naruto slithered in. ‘He makes for an awful snake,’ thought Sakura. Iruka-sensei noticed him, too, but since he was lecturing, perhaps waited to punish him.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto said, seating himself beside her. “I got the books you wanted. They were super hard to get, and I had to ask Ojii-chan.”

“I’m listening to Iruka-sensei, Naruto.”

Naruto rested his head on his arms, sighing. “I’m so tired.”

Sakura glanced at him, taking in his shadowed eyes, the more than unduly tousle of his locks. “You need eight hours of sleep a night,” she murmured.

“Did you say something?” he asked.

Sakura ignored him.

“The books are in my backpack. I’ll give them to you during lunch, dattebayo.”

True to his words, he handed them off to her—six eldritch tomes, brimming in arcane mystery. She could sense the knowledge pouring off of them. When Sakura asked him for the favor, she thought he’d only bring a slender slip of a book, easily parsed through in an hour's time.

She didn’t think she’d be able to read even a sixth of one of these books in an hour.

She flipped one of them open, rifling to a random page.

The first thing she noticed was the language—intricate, grossly convoluted, and subsisting of archaic kanji. The second thing she noticed was the content in and of itself.

‘What was this?’ she thought incredulously. She asked for books about dreams. Not for advanced application of genjutsu! Just what did Naruto get up to yesterday night?

She closed the book, and opened up another one, the wall of texts leading to the same conclusion: genjutsu. Again, and again, and again, until all six lay open on her desk.

Sakura had to get Naruto to return them. She was a wonted visitor to the library, and would've found these books had they been in there. She would’ve read them ten times over.

Did Naruto… steal them?

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat. She would have nothing to do with them, if they were the product of crime.
‘During detention,’ she told herself, ‘she’d get answers.’

When detention came, Iruka-sensei had them cleaning the classroom: wiping the desks ‘till an iridescent shine: sweeping the floor; and tossing the trash.

For all Sakura’s parents knew, she would be studying after school ended, striving toward a perfect hundred on her yearly exams. It would’ve been the perfect excuse, had they not actually expected her to reach it.

Silently, Sakura bid her sleep farewell.

She also asked Naruto, “Where did you go to find the books? They’re not about dreams.”

Naruto, trying and failing to haul the trash bag over his shoulder, blinked at her. “The library obviously, Sakura-chan,” he said. “Dattebayo.”

Sakura’s hand clenched into a fist. He was lying to her—unreservedly! “Don’t talk to me unless you’re going to tell the truth. Where did you find them?”

“Umm..” He scratched his cheek, his whiskers twitching. “Can’t tell you, sorry.”

“You can’t tell me?” Her voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. “Did you steal them? Be honest.”

“No!” he immediately protested. “I got permission. I really can’t tell you, dattebayo.”

Sakura analyzed him—and upon finding no obvious discretion—pouted. “Fine, but when I’m done with them, you’re taking them back.”

Naruto nodded. “Hai, Sakura-chan.”

They cleaned the rest of the classroom in amicable silence.

Later that day, as Sakura dragged the bag containing the books, panting, she wished she had asked for help. She set it beside her front door, and gingerly stepped inside. “Okaa-san,” she called, “I’m home.”

“Okaeri!” came her welcome from the kitchen.

Sakura went up the stairs, dropped her backpack, came back down the stairs, picked up one of the books—her poor arms positively reeling—placed it on an empty section of her bookshelf—went back down, and repeated the process until the bag was empty, and she was looking in satisfaction at the book’s neat line.

She had found that the fifth book of the series was missing, to her disappointment. She resolved to either find it, or ask Naruto to retrieve it.

In the meantime, she took a shower, had dinner with her mother—her father's absence attributed to ‘workplace management’—cleaned the dishes, wrapped herself in a blanket, got out her dictionary, and finally opened the first volume on her bed.

The Art of Genjutsu, a Scholar’s Way to Ten-Thousand Virtues.

Chapter Text

Genjutsu is as water to the open palm as the tree is to the mother trunk, nurturing upon their seed in a gloaming calescence, as they pounce upon their prey in a thunderbolts sizzle. Hence, the percipient man keens supplicated, resolutely aware. 

Sakura, having liberally consulted her dictionary, began the next paragraph. 

To hone the mind in a blade's sharp slash is the weight befalling no greater than the mantle of the earth and sky! Heavenly meditation ascends the soul, transposing substance into mere grit, purveying a harrowed path in limned light. 

Truly, knowledge is a due provider. To emulate greatness, is to grasp it in wearied hands. Take such advice. Ensure the mind is of canvas free, awash only in simple waves of chakra, before reaching out to another. 

Distortions shatter the tender image.  

Below, were an assortment of meditative poses, bearing only a mild resemblance to the ones sanctioned by the Academy. The book's depiction was taut, the lines smooth and unyielding. 

Sakura inserted a bookmark, and flipped the page. 

To drink, you swallow. To eat, you chew. And so to release, you must understand. Lesser beings, heed these words: True mastery begins with the subtlest touch. Weave the painting, observe, bend. 

At times, however, the mind can feed your lie, even when bereft of understanding. 

Strike only with nausea and excitement, when the moment bares, not in cavil ardency. Steadily, consume your prey, as a snake swallows the rat. Yes, to begin, the chakra must latch itself onto another. 

Either command it by thought alone, or form a seal for connection. Even if the master knows their paths, bids them by leave, and need not continue their motions. The seals do much, and yet not nothing at all.

What lies in their shadows is the intent. A man imitates the teacher's words. The pioneer expands them. But as with all things, they hold a prescience…

When Sakura had finally finished the first part of the book, one of a ludicrous eight, her head was throbbing. She set it down, thinking how that was only the most circular thing she had read, ever.

‘Indeed, the opposite of light is darkness, but also not darkness, for how else can shadow come to be?’

Admittedly, she didn’t hate it.

She giggled, slightly, then all at once, burying her face in her pillow. ‘Thank you, Naruto,’ she squealed. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ She had taken notes, too, and grabbed her journal, gazing in satisfaction at the scrawled lines. 

The Art of Genjutsu, a Scholar’s Way to Ten-Thousand Virtues: Essential Notes, or Otherwise. 

• Genjutsu is yin-release, the opposing element to yang-release, whose ‘turgid staunchness holds the blooming embers’—page twenty-four 
• Chakra must be expelled to properly cast it. It doesn’t alter reality, being solely illusion. The chakra must enter the mind, or the effect will never come to.
• Genjutsu can be done in layers, but immense concentration is required. 
• Primarily uses spiritual energy. Implies a slight necessity for the physical aspect. ‘The brawn spurs the thought’—page twenty-nine.
• Each hand seal invokes a different effect in genjutsu. Some make it more powerful, while others increase the range. They help in molding the chakra—the rat hand seal is noted for its aid for beginners.
• Multiple hand seals can be used consecutively, ‘supercharging’ the genjutsu. This can either be done before the chakra has entered the mind, or after. Once you’ve reached a level of proficiency, you can and should nix them. 
• Using hand seals is considered ‘folly’. A specific combination of intent and ‘intelligence befitting the duly reader’ is preferable, or else the movements of the chakra ricochet back at you, or become disrupted.
• A lost teaching, even by the time of this writing, for how dangerous the effects can be. Better to remove hand seals from the equation to begin with, or use the jutsus already tried and tested.

Sakura drew her knees to her chest, her eyes growing heavy. She was going to see Obito again, right? The taste of dango still lingered in her mouth. As sleep fell over her, she felt a familiar coolness beneath her—the stone of the cave. 

***

The next day, detention proved aggravating. Naruto and Sakura had polished the room to a refulgent shine, and by way of thanks, Iruka-sensei sent them to clean the hallways, citing, ‘You still have thirty minutes left until you get to go home.’

It felt grossly cerebral.

She groaned alongside Naruto, but they were sent on their merry way, mops in hand. Sakura sloshed hers in the water, wiping up and down the linoleum floor.

“This sucks,” Naruto bemoaned. “I hate this, hate this, hate this!”

“I want to go home,” voiced Sakura. “I don’t want to stay in this school for another moment!” 

But she wouldn’t leave, and so neither would Naruto.

They made for a decent duo, all things considered. They each had their own lane, and took caution with their steps. After finishing a section, they moved onto the next smoothly.

She was just turning around, when she staggered, the yarn of her mop caught. She set it down, lifting a loose floorboard up—she’d have to inform Iruka-sensei anon. 

She freed the fibers, and freed also a scarlet letter.

“What's that?” asked Naruto. 

“I don’t know.” She settled the floorboard back into place.  “Maybe it’s a love letter or something.” 

“A love letter? Then why would it be there?” 

“I don’t know, but we can find out.”

She glanced at him, tossing the slip his way. “You do it, Naruto.”

“Do what?”

“Open it,” she mumbled, flushing. 

Naruto nodded, and had Sakura known he tore, not opened the rare package, she would’ve swallowed her words. “What are you doing, Naruto?” she demanded. “Why are you opening it like that? They’re going to know something’s up!”

“Eh?”

Furious, Sakura clenched her hands, the scraps of paper 

floating down around them. “Nevermind. Just let me read it.” She forced herself beside his shoulder, unnoticing the way his cheeks heated.

“Your eyes look directly through me,” she spoke. “They’re so beautiful. I love how blue and pretty they are. They’re almost as pretty as you.

“I’ll give up my life for your sake. I already have. Mark your calendar, because I’m making you mine. Won’t you look for me again tomorrow, dear?”

She affirmed, “So it is a love letter.”

“I bet her eyes aren’t as pretty as yours, Sakura-chan.”

“Don’t talk to me.” 

She then thought of Sasuke-kun writing a letter like this to her, flourishing a million virtues, and a million tributes. “I bet her eyes aren’t half as pretty as Sasuke-kun,” she murmured, her heart ablaze in the exclusive manner of a pre-teen girl.

“He said something about looking at it again tomorrow. Are we going to do that?”

“Sasuke-kun, I love you so much…”

“Sakura-chan.”

She blinked. “That does sound fun,” she said hesitantly. “Even if it's with you, Naruto. But I don’t know how to find them.” 

Naruto smiled, a positively devious thing. “I know.”

***

He did, in fact, know. 

They had scoured what he claimed to be ‘super cool hiding spots I’d put them in’, before arriving at a stairwell.

“Look at this,” he said, as he placed his hand on it, twisting it just so. “If you do it in a super specific way, something really cool happens.”

Sakura waited. 

And waited. 

And waited.

“Are you lying to me?” she accused. 

“No, I swear I’m not! It’s definitely in here, dattebayo. It’s just not working for some stupid reason.” He growled, launching his leg forward. “Stupid thing!” 

“Naruto! Don't kick it!”

But sure enough, a whirring began, panels of wood linking and sliding apart—a hidden chamber revealed itself. 

They entered quietly, finding seats stacked high, their glossy sheen weathered by time and disuse. The floor held a grit of dust, save from faint footsteps, scrawled about. 

“It’s cool, right? Right?” 

“If it’s in here, then whoever’s sending the letters has to be really well-connected. How do you even know about it, Naruto?”

Naruto scratched his cheek, his whiskers twitching. “I’ve been here a long time, I guess.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be graduating this year?” 

“Yeah…”

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“Why did you fail twice, Naruto?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about this.”

Sakura glared at him. “You can tell me. I won’t snitch, I swear. I know you’re not as dumb as everyone thinks.”

He gazed at her, and perhaps he found what he was looking for, for he whispered, “Iruka-sensei’s nice, and he’s only a little mean sometimes. But my teachers before him were only mean. They didn’t like me, not one bit, and I don’t know why. I tried so hard.

“And it made me so mad that they liked everyone else just fine, but when they looked at me, they hated me, and called me names, and wouldn’t help me, even when I really needed it, and wasn’t joking!”

He sniffled, rubbing a bronzed hand across his eyes. “So, yeah. It just builds up inside of me. I’m not as smart as you, Sakura, but that doesn’t matter to me, dattebayo. I’m going to be Hokage, no matter what, so my teachers and everyone else can stuff it in their faces.” 

For her sake, Sakura didn’t disagree. “Hai, hai.” 

A few moments later, she found the letters rose blush in a drawer. “I found it,” she called. Delicately, as a human does, she folded it open, taking the slip of paper out. 

“I want you so badly much. I love you like a bonfire in the ocean. You’re my seashell, baby. The sand is rough, but your hands are soft like a baby, baby.”

“This is just terrible,” she remarked. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She snickered. “Nothing.” 

“You can tell me, dattebayo. I don’t snitch either.”

“Maybe.”

She observed him, and he grew flush beneath her scrutiny. She prodded the warm curve of his cheek. “Why is it red? Are you sick, Naruto?” She leaned away. “Don’t get close to me.”

“I’m not sick. I’m just feeling weird, okay?”

“Alright?”

And that was that, and she had the pleasure of having oyakodon for dinner.

———————————————————————————-

Omake: Haruno Sakura, and the Magician

———-————————————————————————

Sakura stood up, finding the strangest sight before her. Obito, kneeled upon his bedroll—dragged out to the center of the room—ruffling a stack of cards in a magicians sweep.  

“I was waiting for you!” he exclaimed. “I’m almost done setting the game up and everything! Do you play karuta? If not, then I can teach you. It’s really simple, you see.”

“Obito-san,” she said, her cheek dimpling. “I do, actually. I always beat whoever I go against, though. I don’t think you’re the exception. I’m sorry.” 

Obito lifted his brows. “Aren’t you being a tad cocky?”

Sakura’s parents would’ve reprimanded her sardony, but they had no place here. “Nope.” She sat down—directly across from him. Spread before them were the litany of torifuda cards. 

“Rin used to always play this with me,” said Obito, “so I’ll win for her sake.”

“Are these poems the same as in the Land of Fire?”

“Mhm. The pack’s from there, so I hope so.” He made a hand seal, exclaiming, “Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!” A burst of smoke, and a clone appeared.

Sakura settled her hand on its chest, the planes warm and hard. “Shadow clone?” she asked. “It feels different. More solid.”

“It’s a special sort of clone,” he replied. “It takes half of your chakra, and not a miniscule amount.”  

The clone sat down, grabbing a yomifuda card from the deck. “You guys ready?”

“Yup.”

“Yes.”

Karuta was a game of memorization, so to speak. They were two sets of cards, torifuda and yomifuda. The yomifuda cards were poems, which the reader read aloud. 

The torifuda cards were snippets of the poems, holding the last two lines. Whoever grabbed it first, gained a point. 

Readbito began: “As soon as it blows, the—“

Sakura snatched the card, just as Obito’s fingers brushed it. 

“Damn.”

She giggled, setting it down. “Fun’ya no Yasuhide: Poem twenty-two.”

“Coarse the rush-mat roof. Sheltering the harvest-hut. Of the—“

“Tenji Tennō, the first poem. Are you ready for the most heated game of karuta you’ve ever played, Sakura?”

“Are you ready, Obito-san?”

“Oh, the foot drawn tail. Of the mountain-pheasants tail—drooped like down-curved branch! Through this long, long dragging—“

“Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, the third poem.”

“A boatman crossing Yura Strait has lost his rudder…so, too, the passage of my love knows no—“

“Sone no Yoshitada: Poem fourty-six.” Sakura, very intentionally, held Obito’s eyes as she set down the card. 

“The waterfall's sound has ceased now for many ages, yet its fame flows on and still—” 

“Dainagon Kintō, the fifty-fifth poem.”

“Near Mount Arima—“

“Dani no Sanmi: Poem fifty-eight.” 

“The swift current blocked by a boulder splits but meets—“

“Sutokuoin: Poem seventy-seven.”

“Suffering from her indifference—“

“Dōin Hōshi: Poem eighty-two.”

“Oak leaves—“

“Jūni letaka: Poem ninety-eight.”

“For you alone—“

“Kōko Tennō: Poem fifteen.”

“From the peak of—“

“Yōzei’in: Poem thirteen.”

Just as Readbito motioned to speak, Obito erupted, “How are you so good?” 

“I’m just good at memorizing.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm. I have a lot of strategies if you want some tips. Like—“

“I’m fine,” he said, his brows knitting together. 

“Spring is over—“

“Jitō Tennō: Poem two,” Sakura murmured. 

“My hut, if you ask, is to the capitals southeast, where I live—“

“Kisen Hōshi, the eighth poem.” Obito swiped the card, flashing an ivory grin. “Finally.”

“The short summer night begins to dawn, although it feels like it is still evening. In the clouds, does the moon shelter.”

Sakura drew a blank. Obito parted and closed his mouth. They studied the cards—since the last two lines were engraved on the torifuda, and they had been spoken, all they had to do was look for it. 

‘In the clouds, does the moon shelter,’ she chanted.

“Kiyohara no Fukayabu, poem thirty-six.” Sakura met Obito’s eyes, a glimmer of fading red…

“You’re using your sharingan,” she stormed. 

He paled. “I’m not?”

“Don’t lie to me! I saw you!” Sakura surged to her feet. “If you’re going to cheat, then I’m not going to play.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, okay? Wait, Sakura.” Obito grabbed her arm, every finger a burning mark. “Just let me explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, slapping his hand away.

“Listen, Sakura. I—“

“I’m not listening to a thing you say.”

Had Sakura not been afraid of Madara, she would’ve parted through the cave, and into the daylight. Instead, she found an appropriate corner to wallow in.

If he was going to be mad at her for winning, then she would very well do the same with his cheating.

She grabbed her book from the ground, irefully flipping through the pages until she found her position. He was so dumb! There was a perfect word she learned the other day: hypocrite.

As she lost herself to a world of mayhem and mischief, Obito wringed his hands, sighing.

He left the room.

In the distance, Zetsu observed her. “So she comes back. Again, and again, and again, I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

“Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu.” Demonic Illusion: Death Mirage Technique—a genjutsu which forces the target to confront their greatest fear. ‘Weave your chakra into the target,’ stated the book. ‘Snake will herald fear; Rat will flame it into a conflagration.’

The technique was a staple of genjutsu, D-ranked, and rather rudimentary. Sakura, who had done enviably well with leaf concentration, had no doubts of her success.

What she wanted was a challenge—what she wanted was to add more hand seals. But she was getting ahead of herself. She still had to test the jutsu on Naruto, after all.

She struck at high-noon, when the yearnings of his stomach spoke through his mind. The bait was her bento; the lure was her sweetest smile; the prize was victory. By the copse of trees at the playground, she asked,

“Ready?”

“So, I just let you do this genjutsu on me, and I get to eat?”

“Yup. You remember how to dispel a genjutsu, right?”

“Mhm. I either break a finger, or say, ‘Kai!’ really loudly, while focusing on my chakra.”

“Maybe not break a finger. Okay, here I go.”

She envisioned a link between them, feeling the chakra move in her body—coming to move in his instead. She did the hand seals, whispering, “Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu.”

Naruto didn’t react at first. She couldn’t see what he was seeing—wasn’t even sure if she had succeeded. Before he flinched.

It was a slight thing, but he continued to do so, until his hands were over his ears, and his knees were on the ground. He huddled into a tight ball, trembling.

She felt victory at first, for she had succeeded, and he was caught in her throes—then, she frowned, for he was in an awful amount of pain.

She concentrated on the tether between them, as all genjutsu left invisible links between the caster and proponent. It was simple—all she had to do was dispel her chakra within him.

She had even practiced.

Her brows knitting together, she splayed her hands forward, willing it to be. “Come on, come on.” In response, Naruto held himself harder.

She tried for a second, and then a third time, this feeling of anxiety overcoming her. Nothing happened. She ran over to him, forcing his arms away from his body.

“Naruto, wake up! Naruto!” She slapped his face, her hand leaving a bright imprint, and for a moment his eyes were as clear as a cloudless sky, before glazing over.

She didn’t know what to do, or who to bring. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like the most stupid person in the world.

Steadily, she grabbed his finger: “Sorry, Naruto.”

And broke it.

Naruto gasped to life, panting.

There was pain in his shining eyes, more than Sakura ever knew. It was hard for her to grasp, and she didn’t quite know what to do. She acted on instinct, flinging her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry. I swear, I won’t ever use genjutsu on you again!”

Naruto blinked, and perhaps his cheeks would’ve grown red, had Sakura not stood up so swiftly, grabbing his sleeve. “Come on, we have to go to the nurse’s office.” She hurried him along, past their peers, and into the academy.

Her pace such that he couldn’t breathe a word in response, still reeling from the effects of the genjutsu. Ino stared at them, her eyes wide. “What are you moving so fast for, Billboard-brow?”

“None of your business!”

When they reached the nurses office, it was with relief on both ends. It was a spacious space, the walls painted a cerulean blue. Fractals studded the ceiling, weaving the sunlight.

“We need help,” said Sakura. “Naruto broke his finger.”

The nurse, appearing from an echelon, furrowed her brow. “There’s only one Naruto in this school, I believe.”

“Mhm, so you have to help him.”

“He just broke his finger?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then he’d be fine.” She smiled, rather prettily, and motioned them to leave.

“He broke his finger,” Sakura repeated, uneased. “That really hurts! Naruto, it hurts a lot, right?”

He nodded his agreement. “It does, dattebayo.”

“If you knew what I knew, you’d be with me. Just leave. I don’t have to explain myself.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have to explain yourself?”

“What I meant, hmm.”

Sakura didn’t understand this woman—found she didn’t quite like her—and with those sentiments, came ire. “We’re not leaving,” she said, her voice an octave higher. “Naruto is hurt, and he needs help.”

“Well, he’s hurt a lot of different people, including myself. So if you think he deserves our pity now, I fear to say you’re egregiously wrong.”

“I fear to say you’re not making any sense. Did Naruto prank you, or something?”

She thought about it for a moment, and the puzzle pieces snapped together—that must’ve been it! “If he did, then he’s really sorry, but you’re acting really childishly right now, Akito-sama, and you’re a big girl.”

“Yes, I am a big girl,” she scoffed, “and you two are very, very small.” Her arched eyebrows drew together, her trim figure imposing upon them until she was very grand indeed.

“You really did it now, Sakura-chan,” Naruto muttered, right as Akito hauled them by the legs, and threw them out of her office. It all happened so fast, Sakura couldn’t tense her limbs, much less prevent Akito from tossing them out like riffraff.

They tumbled into each other, their lithe limbs askew.

“If I see you two again, I’d be informing Hokage-sama,” she spat, closing the door with a palpable bang.

Sakura had half a mind to cast a genjutsu on her, the way her anger frothed. She glanced at Naruto, who was frowning in turn. “People like her are why I’m going to be Hokage.” He clenched his fists. “Just you wait! I’m going to show you why Uzumaki Naruto can’t be ignored!”

She agreed, and yet felt the slightest part of an impostor watching him. She knew she ignored him, even if it was because he annoyed her, and she knew she wasn’t the nicest at times, even if he deserved it.

Still, she asked herself. Would there be a day where he looked at her like he did with Akito?

She realized that she couldn’t bear to see it come.

“Do I ignore you, Naruto?” she asked.

He deflated upon hearing her voice, shrugging, and smiling, and blushing all at once.

“I get mad at you really quickly,” she continued. ”I’m not as nice to you as I am with other people. I don’t treat you with… respect.” She bent at the waist, bowing very low. “I’m sorry, Naruto-san. I’ll do better from now on.”

He bothered her, that was true, but she couldn’t treat him less than human.

“Stand up, dattebayo, and don’t call me Naruto-san.” He helped her up with his good hand, the palm warm and chafed against her skin.

Her resolve settled upon her shoulders, but she felt all the lighter for it.

“It’s too serious now, dattebayo.”

“We can look for the poem now,” she offered, “and get mochi after school. And get ice for your finger, too.”

Naruto’s smile, she found, was as refulgent as the sun.

***

Dinner: 10:00 PM, Azuki.

Wear your best outfit, dear.

The poem was short, awfully straightforward, and not at all melodic. She’d still have to say it was her favorite yet. “My Otou-san knows Azuki,” she whispered. “It’s the name of his best friend’s restaurant. I know where it is.”

“So, what? Are we going to go?”

“I don’t know. I want to.” She’d have to sneak out of home, a notion which set her aflutter.

“I think we should. We can finally see who this guy is, and why he writes so bad.” He looked at her as he spoke, and she didn’t fail, by the way laughter spilt from her lips.

They returned the letter, and hurried to class, only minutes left until they’d be considered tardy. The rest of the day passed by comfortably—the sweets in their smiles.

Her mother made a comment on her tarry, but Sakura didn't dither. She reviewed her notes, rereading entire passages. She didn’t know what she did wrong with Naruto, and she couldn’t use genjutsu again until she did.

She thought of what happened to him occurring a second time, friendly practice into nightmare fuel, and her jaw locked.

To cast an illusion, it is simple to penetrate your chakra. So to shatter the image, shall it not be so facile as well? You cannot so easily dismiss what has been wound—you must shatter the thread.

It was unfortunate, then, that the book offered no easy answer. Wasn’t that what she tried to do? Shatter the thread? Genjutsu was a result of chakra in the brain, and the nervous system—by eliminating that chakra, genjutsu should resolve itself.

But maybe, it wasn’t that simple… If pain released genjutsu, and in Naruto’s case, not simple pain, but something as startling as breaking a finger, then that sensation overpowered her chakra.

Saying ‘Kai’ worked, since you were flaring your chakra, overpowering someone else’s. There was something here, she was sure. On the precipice of discovery…

In theory, to break genjutsu, she had to stimulate an artificial release, either with chakra, or an overwhelming sensation, such as intense pain.

She leaned back. That was it, wasn’t it?

For dinner that day, Okaa-san made yakisoba, the noodles a steaming gold. She set aside a plate for Otou-san, garnishing with parsley, and a squeeze of lime.

It was good food, and she ate ‘till her stomach was tender. When they were finished, Sakura helped her mother clean, and washed her hair, the water running down her skin in rivulets.

She clad herself not in soft fabrics, but a sleek-footing ensemble, the shade a midnight blue. On the back, as a respectable admirer of Sasuke-kun, she had stitched the Haruno and Uchiha clan symbols together.

She covered her hair with a hat, and had half a mind to wear a mask, had she just found one. She slipped out of her window, into the caliginous night.

She would’ve kept to the alleyways, had their scent not been so nauseating—the disposal a scant day away.

It was with dismay that she walked on the sidewalks.

She didn’t feel much like ANBU.

Naruto saw her first, cast in his orange. He walked beside her, and had he not been in her company, she likely would’ve been put aside for her circumspect attire.

They arrived at the head of the establishment, and slithered around, through a hidden passage only Sakura, and the children’s owners knew. Dank, and cloistered, she couldn’t leave soon enough.

She pushed through the sacks of flour concealing it, angling her body through the crevice. Naruto fared with slightly more difficulty. “Try to be quieter, Naruto,” she said.

“I’m doing the best I can, Sakura-chan.”

The storage closet they were in was dark, the only light seeping in from the sides, and bottom of the door.

Naruto popped in, just as Sakura tilted it open. ‘Follow me,’ her eyes seemed to say. Azuki was a buffet, and it wasn’t uncommon to see long lines of people, shiny plates in hand.

The storage closet was at the intersection between the restrooms, and kitchen. With a smirk, and twirl, they were in.

“I see Mizuski-sensei,” said Naruto, pointing to a silver-haired man.

“I think I see my Otou-san, too,” Sakura exclaimed. “He’s with someone.”

She couldn’t see them well, but they had a familiar head of hair, and a pair of slender arms. Sakua had only a single question: Why did she look like Akito, the nurse?

“How do we know who the poet guy is?” propositioned Naruto.

Sakura wrenched her eyes away from them. “All we know is his handwriting. With a prank, Naruto, I think we can figure that out.”

“You want me to do a prank, Sakura-chan?”

She murmured her plan to him. Like the day which had spawned these turn of events, she saw him to her means.

It was simple, really. Thrown in the bin were the waitlist papers, where every person eating had to inscribe their name. If she got ahold of them, she caught the poet. She knew his handwriting from the letters, of course.

The time as well—10:00 PM.

The challenge was the location—at the front of the restaurant, in total purview. Once Naruto diverted the patrons attention, she’d strike.

She only had to wait, and did that with much cheer, lingering in the shadows, wreathed in their corona… She envisioned Naruto hauling the sacks of flour, streaking through the chef’s legs.

A commotion would be heard, yelling.

It’d be dazzling. An inedible surfeit. Building, and building to a climax until—flour poured down from the ceiling, drenching the diners. Naruto pointed at them, cackling.

“Look at yourself!”

Sakura covered her giggles with her hand. She knew knowing how to get up there would come in handy one day!

Expectantly, the patrons thronged around him, leaving her an easy path to the bin. She grabbed the crumpled papers in a fistful, scanning them over. ‘Ten o’clock, ten o’clock, ten o’clock. There!’ One… Sakura couldn’t believe her eyes.

Both the handwriting, and listed time was a perfect match, but that couldn’t be right. Right? Haruno Kizashi: Otou-san. His date? Hayashi Akito.

Sakura didn’t want to understand. Why would Otou-san write poems to someone who wasn’t Okaa-san? Why was it to Akito? A year ago, she wouldn’t have known.

Now, tears stung her eyes. She verbalized it, softly: “Otou-san loves Akito behind mine and Okaa-san’s back.”

It was the strangest thing. She knew, but didn’t understand. Not at all. She couldn’t stay.

“Where are you going, Sakura-chan?” called Naruto. Behind him, the patrons roared.

She tried to answer him, but the words failed her. She shook her head, running, and to Naruto, it was as if she had become one with the moonlight, undulating in the fog.

On him, the mob descended.

Sakura wasn’t aware of entering her room. She undressed stonily, crawling into bed. Did she and Okaa-san not love Otou-san enough? she thought, sniffling, a tear dripping down her chin.

She wanted him to come to her room, and kiss her forehead, and say it was all a misunderstanding. That he’ll love her, and Okaa-san forever.

That he didn’t love Akito, and he didn’t write the poems. She wanted him by her side, and to stroke her hair. Sakura heard about these stories. If he was with Akito, he wouldn’t be with her.

She waited, but he never came. Sakura fell into a deeply troubled sleep.

Since their argument, her and Obito had kept their distance from each other. She passed the hours studying, or delving into a book. It was all very productive.

The day after, he had seemed close to speaking, but held his tongue on further notice.

Still, he didn’t seem to like when she spent too long inside the cave, and stood by her side when he felt it was time to go. He offered his hand, once, and she had taken it, and it had become the routine for them.

That was until her father.

Sakura woke up in that cave with tears. The stone was as cold as ever, startling in its intensity. She hauled herself to Obito’s sheets, his scent of ash filling her lungs. She wrapped herself in them.

Obito came inside soon after, likely away training with Zetsu. She saw him stop to look at her, his eyes wide.

“Obito,” she murmured.

He knelt beside her. “What happened?” he whispered.

She didn’t want to continue speaking, and didn’t bother to try, shaking her head. Obito grasped her hand, his lips pressing together. “I’ve got something to show you,” he said.

They passed by Madara’s now familiar presence, through the twists and turns of the passage, and into the forest. They delved into the trees, branches cracking underfoot.

“We’re going to a lake,” he said. “I made something for you. It was meant to be an apology for being dumb when we were playing Karuta. I’m not done with it yet, but you can try it out now.

“I had this whole entire tirade I was going to say to you about how I always screw things, and how I get really competitive, and how you’re just like Kakashi, but I’m gonna bite my tongue.” He glanced at her. “Who made you so sad, Sakura-chan?”

On the lake was a boat—a frankly hideous boat, more likened to a misshapen lunk of wood. Still, it was of smooth design, fastened with an ebony undercoating, and rose accents.

A few birds perched inside, scattering upon their arrival. She hopped on, Obito a step behind. He settled down, manning the oars. There came a mighty swish, and they began treading the water.

Sakura nearly lost her footing, but kept herself steady, holding tight to the railing—the sunlight hot and heady on her arms. She breathed in the fresh spring air.

“If I can ask, what happened, Sakura?”

She didn’t answer, not at first. Then, “It’s my Otou-san,” and said nothing further.

The lean muscles in Obito’s arms flexed, his inky hair tousled and long. Half his face was still wrapped in bandages, and obscured the minute expressions he may have been making.

“My mom and dad died in the Second Great Shinobi War,” he began.

“I don’t remember them aside from brief flashes. My Oba-san took care of me, and she’s the one I’m going back to. Her and my team. I don’t know what your Otou-san did, but you’ll only have one.”

Sakura gazed at the horizon, her clear green eyes as reflective as the waters. “Hai, Obito-san.”

He stopped rowing suddenly, grasping his face with his hands. “When did I get so wise?” he bemoaned. “I feel like an old man.”

She giggled, to her surprise, and behind his fingers, Obito grinned.

“I need to tell my Okaa-san,” Sakura said, “but I think she’s going to be super mad.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. I’d trust your decisions, if that helps.”

“I’m scared.”

Shinobi in training she was, but in the evening light, she was a child, aching for solace. She spent a long time on that boat.

***
The next day, the Academy was a strange affair. Naruto had arrived before her, most shocking of all. “Are you okay?” he exclaimed. “You were crying yesterday, dattebayo!”

It was on the tip of her tongue to reprimand him, for it was early in the morning, and his exuberance was better fit for the afternoon. “Better,” she admitted. Certain words he said, or gestures he did set off a visceral reaction within her—but she’d find that mid-line.

“What happened? Was it your stupid Otou-san? I’ll prank him if you want.”

“No, don’t prank him. Let’s sit down, Naruto-kun.” There were lots to consider, before heading home today.

“Kun,” murmured Naruto, the widest smile yet lighting up his face.

As Iruka-sensei lectured, Sakura synthesized her responses: ‘Okaa-san, Otou-san has been writing secret letters to Akito, the mean nurse at the Academy,” or, “Okaa-san, Otou-san has been sharing love poems with Akito, the mean nurse at the Academy.”

‘Neither sounded good,’ she thought.

She wrote them down anyways, titling them number one and number two. She thought of some other things to say, and wrote them down as well.

“What are you writing?”

Sakura’s hand froze. It wasn’t Naruto who had spoken, but Sasuke-kun. Refined, regal, fine-featured Sasuke-kun. “I’m just writing down my thoughts,” she said, her inner fan-girl basking in his attention.

“You looked really serious,” he observed.

“Tell me all of your thoughts, Sasuke-kun.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, before sighing, turning back around. So handsome. He even talked with her today. She just wished she could enjoy it more.

Sakura returned to her notes, biting her lip. How about: ‘Okaa-san, Otou-san spends his late days with pretty women.” Pleased, she nodded to herself, scribbling a star beside it.

Naruto, Sasuke-kun, and Obito, all of them were with her. With their strength, she was more powerful than ever. What she had to do was use it. When she went home, she informed Okaa-san that she had something very important to tell her, and that they had to wait for Otou-san.

Bemused, she nodded her agreement.

That day, Otou-san came home early, a rare thing in the last months. Was he always late because of Akito? The thought unnerved her.

“Our daughter has something important she wants to tell us,” Okaa-san said.

“The room’s your stage, my dear.”

Sakura walked in front of them, her hands bundled in her dress. On performance, she found anxiety a bedmate. She inhaled. Exhaled. She wouldn’t let it control her. “Okaa-san,” she said, swallowing, “I saw Otou-san yesterday.”

“At work?”

She glanced at him, and while his smile remained, it tightened around his eyes. “Where did you see me, Sakura-chan?”

“He was with our nurse!” she blurted. “She was really rude to Naruto, and he writes these awful poems to her!”

Okaa-san leaned back, stunned. Otou-san turned as white as a ghost, as if he were drenched in flour…

“Kizashi,” Okaa-san said, “Sakura has to be reading this wrong, right?” But as she saw his face, Sakura knew she knew.

“Mebuki, of course Sakura’s got it wrong. How could I ever cheat on you? I love you. Isn’t that right, Sakura?”
His eyes pulled her in, pleading, and begging, but she had already set it in motion.

Inexorably, it moved.

“All of those days you were late at work, you really were seeing someone, weren’t you?”

“Sakura, you saw wrong. Say you saw wrong. Sakura! Sakura!”

***

Hand seals, and their correlation with genjutsu:

Chapter Text

-———————————————————————————-

Omake: Haruno Sakura, the Boy, and a Pecking Raven

———————————————————————————— Sakura gazed up at the tree. 

The tree gazed down at her, emerald leaves ruffled in the wind.

She placed a cautious foot, smooth and bare—pressed down. ‘Every action has an opposite and equal reaction.’ 

She placed her hand on the tree next.

‘Comprehend. Do not simply do.’

She alternated between them, her eyes shuttering close. 

‘Till fifty rings clear.’

In the tedium, she fell, the fine skin on her palm and feet rubbed raw. 

‘Till a hundred dominates.’

For she was dogged in her persistence. 

‘Once the quiet of your mind surpasses all else, trickle down your chakra.’ 

She envisioned chakra flowing to her feet, from her core, and down her legs in a steady stream. She felt it respond. Not in the subtle sense of genjutsu, but turgid, and imminent—like liquid flame coursing through her.

She walked up the tree, smiling. Tree-walking: Complete! 

The purpose of the exercise was to not just practice her chakra control, but to have a better understanding of chakra in general. That was why she switched between her hands and feet—to visualize how it would feel with or without it. 

At least according to the books. 

The question now was more piercing than ever: Where did Naruto get them? They guided everything she did about genjutsu. Everything she knew. Instinctly, she knew they were veracious, but she still had to know. 

She discarded plans and ideas left and right, eventually deciding on the simplest one. She was going to ask him, and this time, wouldn’t take no for an answer.  

It would be when he first came in.

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“Sakura-chan! I can’t say, dattebayo.”

When Iruka-sensei lectured.

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“I can’t say anything, dattebayo.”

After their test. 

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“Again, Sakura-chan? I swear I can’t tell you.”

During lunch.

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“You’ve been asking me this all day, dattebayo.”

After lunch.

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“You’re gonna get mad at me.”

During taijutsu practice. 

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“What books?” Ino asked, overhearing their conversation.

After taijutsu practice. 

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

When school ended. 

“Where did you find the books, Naruto?”

“From the teme,” he said, and it was as if the clouds had parted, revealing golden sunlight.  

The teme? “Sasuke.”

“Yeah.”

“You took them from the Uchiha Compound?” Sakura said, scandalized. 

Naruto’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw locked tight. “See, I knew you were going to get mad at me.”

“They’re Uchiha Clan property! Of course, I’m going to get mad. Oh, my god.” She had to return them. They were Sasuke’s. If he knew that she had them, he’d never talk to her again. 

“How did you even find them? Knew that I’d be interested? I asked you about dreams.”

For some reason, Naruto’s cheeks turned red, the color heated in spite of his bronzed tan. Sakura made a guess. “You’re not really mad at me for asking,” she said. “You’re embarrassed about something.”

“What would I be embarrassed about, Sakura-chan?” 

“I don’t know, but I want to.” 

He seemed to come to a decision, for the tension in his shoulders dissolved. "I was born when the Kyuubi attacked, October tenth. During that week, everyone’s always extra mean to me. I overheard someone talking about the Uchiha.

“They said that they controlled the Kyuubi through genjutsu, with their scary eyes.

“I thought that if I could prove that they did it, then they’d find someone else to hate, so I went to the biggest house in the Uchiha Compound, and looked around. I took the books you have from Sasuke’s room. I think he lives in an apartment now, I dunno.”

“If your plan worked,” Sakura said, “then they’d stop hating you, and start hating Sasuke-kun.”

“I know! I know! That’s why I stopped. Please believe me. I’m so scared that you aren’t.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” she muttered, before raising her voice. “I don’t hate you, Naruto. I need to think. I’ll talk to you tomorrow." 

“Before you go,” he said, “there’s something you should know. When I got the books, there was a note by them. I don’t know who wrote it, but they called themselves the teme’s brother. It mentioned something about finishing all of them.”

‘If Sasuke-kun had a brother, I would know. What did it fully say? Do you still have it?” 

He shook his head, grinning in that sheepish way. “I lost it.”

“Of course, you did.” She sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Naruto.”

A brother… Sasuke couldn’t have one, right? Why didn’t he ever talk about him? Furthermore, why did he want him to finish all of the books? 

Sakura had an idea, and when she had ideas, she acted upon them.

When she arrived home, she shouted a greeting to her mother, and ran up to her room, as hasty as ever. She slipped her backpack off of her back, picking up the sixth (and final) volume. She flipped through it, all the way to the end.

And there it was.

A collection of blank pages, with a myriad of names and scripture. Most had faded, but one was still bright, evidently penned in recently.

‘Similar to summoning contracts, there is an inherited expectation of the Uchiha Clan to inscribe the name of any who complete these tomes, alongside a spoken thought. I chose to delay this until my second reading.

‘Throughout the initial endeavor, I had brought these books with me on every mission I went. A compendium of a dozen genjutsu scholars, fastened to easy understanding, these books laid the groundwork of my understanding of the art.

‘It’s a shame that so few go beyond the first page. My recommendation after finishing is to reread them after six months of practice, as I have done. This allows you to compare your own application, perhaps alter more or less, and correct as you go.

Sincerely,

Uchiha Itachi, heir of the Uchiha Clan.’

“Uchiha Itachi-san,” she whispered, the name feeling dark and powerful from her lips. If he was the heir, then how had Sasuke taken his place? Did he give up the role? More likely, she realized he died. 

Her heart squeezed in sympathy. 

He seemed so smart, too. She would’ve learned a lot from him. She closed the book, and set it by the other four. She remembered something then. There were six volumes, but she only had five of them.

She was missing the fifth. 

If Itachi was the last person who had read the series, then he must have taken it. But, why? Would it be in his grave of all things? If he wasn’t dead, missing rather, then she had to find him, and bring him back. 

In the distance, Uchiha Itachi tilted his head, his ebony locks flowing in the wind. 

“What is it?” asked Hoshigaki Kisame.

“Nothing. I thought I heard someone say my name.”

“Hmm.”

***

Sakura’s last day of detention was a quaint affair. Stacking the chairs, cleaning the tables, sweeping the floor, it was all standard practice. Naruto did his share of the work, working in tandem with her. 

He must have caught onto her mood, for he was quiet, where he began loud.

The day couldn’t have come soon enough, she had thought, scorning the very idea. Now, she wished for this last hour to stretch into infinity, swallowed by mist, and fog. 

“Are we still going to hang out after this, dattebayo?” asked Naruto. His voice was even, but there was a delicacy in his eyes. 

“If you want to,” replied Sakura. “I like spending time with you.” 

She, too, wanted an escape. 

They headed for the park afterward, and if Naruto was confused about why she swung ‘till dusk, he didn’t ask questions. 

She slipped inside her house, setting her shoes neatly by the door. An inviting scent came from the kitchen, a cautious eye revealing steaming plates of tamagoyaki, fluffy white rice, tender-hued salmon, and miso soup. 

Given any other chance, Sakura would’ve been eager to eat. She shouldn’t, she knew. Yet something propelled her forward, for she sat at that dinner table. 

Her mother commented, “You’ve been coming home later and later, Sakura-chan. Is it because Otou-san spends his evenings with pretty nurses?” She glanced at him, her face opaque. 

Otou-san had his reservations for table decorum, and he proved no different today. His chopsticks struck the plate, scraping the porcelain—without even waiting for Sakura and Okaa-san to fully settle down, he brought a piece of salmon to his mouth, the oil a sheen on his lips. 

“Otou-san’s tired today, and has an even longer shift tomorrow."

“Oh?”

“That’s right.”

“Your wife misses you. Maybe she should find someone to spend her time with.”

“If you do that, I’ll kill you.”

“Not funny, Kizashi.” 

“I haven’t seen Akito since that day.”

“And how long were you hiding poems in the Academy like a schoolboy?”

“Drop it, Mebuki. You and I aren’t going anywhere. I made that mistake marrying you. Why don’t we just go back to how things were? That was nice.”

“How did I not notice how entitled you were? It’s so disgusting.”

“I paid for this house, the plates we’re eating on, and the clothes on your back. I should say the same to you.”

“Who cooks for you, cleans for you, raises your daughter for you? It sure as hell isn’t Akito.” 

“Mebuki—“

“Kizashi—“

And Sakura was reminded all over again. She should never have come. She rose from her seat, and neither one told her to sit back down, far too engrossed in their argument.

It was one of the many battles they had, caught in war as they were.

Unwilling to capitulate, intent on mutual destruction. A word came to mind, passed around in silent corners at the Academy: divorce. Sakura found it to be the most loathsome thing of all.

She spent all of her time reading genjutsu now. She was nearly done with the second volume, with plans for the third well on the way. Like Itachi, she resolved herself to reread them.

By the way genjutsu was explained in the Academy, she had never thought that there were so many layers to it. She was studying the brain at the moment, and checked books about anatomy from the library. 

She had plans to delve into the autonomic nervous system with Obito. He helped with the application, even if he wasn’t an admitted talent. 

He mentioned there being good resources at the Uchiha Compound, but the thought of asking Sasuke-kun set her heart ablaze. She already had enough resources from there, illicit or not.

As she walked up the stairs to her room, Sakura’s stomach rumbled. 

She’d have to sneak something to eat before sleeping again. She just wanted Otou-san and Okaa-san to like each other again. Was that too much to ask?

When she woke up in the cave, she found Obito eating dango, a pile of empty sticks beside him. “How many did you eat?” she asked, snickering. 

He pointed to the few that were left, glistening, tantalizing globes. “I left some behind for you. Eat.” 

Sakura was only too happy to listen. She tore into them, the syrup sticking to her fingers, and lips. 

The bandaids on Obito’s face had finally unraveled, revealing scarred, textured skin. It didn’t detract from him, she affirmed, and neither did his missing right eye. It had come as a shock to her at first, but as the days passed, it was simply a part of him. 

He took to wearing an eye patch, but tended to leave it as is. 

“What time is it?” she enquired.

“Evening,” he replied. 

The earlier she slept, the later she came.

“Obito,” came a voice. Sakura turned around, laying eyes on Tobi, the zetsu with the spiraling face. He, and his numerous kin disconcerted her.

“What is it?”

“It’s Rin and Kakashi. They’re in danger.” 

He could’ve dropped a bomb with less effect—the color drained from Obito’s face. “What happened?” he demanded, and without knowing any more, began furiously tugging on his pouches of shurikens and kunais. 

“Kiri shinobi have them surrounded.”

“How many? Jōnin? Chunin?”

“A plethora. Jōnin.”

“I’m not strong enough yet,” he breathed. 

“Allow me.” Tobi wrapped around Obito, slanting panels of white enveloping him. His face was covered in a whorling mask, save all but a scarlet eye. His Sharingan had activated.

He ran to his bedsheets, donning the ebony robe he wore for their outings. 

“Sakura,” he intoned, “stay here.” 

He motioned to leave, but she jumped in front of him. Did he think that would get her to stay?

Rin and Kakashi were his teammates, and from what she learned at the Academy, Kiri shinobi were known for their ruthlessness. Obito needed all the help he could get—certainly if he was to face a plethora of Jōnin. 

She straightened her shoulders, embodied Ino’s arrogance: “Take me with you.” 

“That’s not happening, Sakura. You're not ready yet.”

“Yes, I am.” She took a step forward, flame in her tongue, and whisper. “I’ve been studying genjutsu day and night. I have the highest scores in my class. 

“When I used genjutsu on Naruto, it worked too well, and I thought he was going to be stuck in it forever! I’m ready for this, Obito-san.” She exhaled. “Let me help you, please.”

He gazed at her, then shook his head. “Fine, but you’re staying behind. And you’re going to stick to genjutsu.” 

“Fine,” she agreed. Honestly, she was going to do that anyway.  He nodded, lifting his chin. “Let’s go.” 

They went through the passage, Madara a now familiar presence. With all the chaos in her life, she hadn’t researched him as much as she might’ve liked, and feared she’d grow to regret that decision. 

Soon, she told herself, soon. 

They entered the forest, Obito taking a sharp left. “How do you know where to go?” she asked.

“Zetsu’s leading me.”

As they were running, Sakura visualized the genjutsu she knew—a pitiful three. Magen: Narakumi, Magen: Jigoku Kōka, and the Neru Tama technique. Of them, the strongest was likely the second, a C-rank: Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, and Ram. 

It summoned a mighty, whorling ball of flame, filling the sky, ever approaching—branding the target to stand, and watch, and burn. With enough talent, it could even crash.

Sakura was sure she could change the contents to say, a bolt of lightning crashing down, but as with most genjutsu, it was recommended to keep the illusion as taught. 

Something to do with the way the chakra was dispersed throughout the body.  She hoped everything would turn out fine, but wouldn’t hesitate to fight. 

Her legs were already burning, and she wondered how much longer they had to run. The sun was dipping beneath the horizon, simmering orange clashing against the encroaching dark. 

Here we come, she thought. Please be safe, Kakashi, Rin. 

As night fell, they passed over a battleground. Bodies were strewn about, of tarnished headbands, and gaping wounds. Many were riddled with shurikens and kunais.

Most startling was the blood. It drenched the grass, splattered across the leaves, and took to a crimson haze in the air. Sakura nearly vomited, barely keeping herself in check. 

Obito seemed about to speak, before turning away. “This is the reality of war,” he said. “It’s terrible, ne?”

“What do you mean by war, Obito-san?” 

But he was already moving forward. Sakura followed after him, holding her breath as her qipao swayed inches away from a body. If this was what war meant, then yes, it was terrible. 

Silently, she made the hand seals for the Jigoku Kōka technique. Her chakra surged in her body, a ready arrow to shoot. She formed the Rat seal. 

Once released, the genjutsu would soar. 

“They’re close. I can feel it. They’re just ahead, Sakura.”

In a burst of energy, he raced forward. “Obito! You’re going too fast, Obito!”

“It’s Rin!”

There was a girl in front of them, moonlight illuminating her figure. Her hair was cut to a curved jaw, framing her high cheeks, and padded eyes. 

The sound of a thousand chirping birds filled the air, blue light emitting in the distance. Silver hair whipped forward, a hand cupping lightning. “Chidori!” 

“Kakashi,” Obito shouted. Sakura released her genjutsu: “Magen: Jigoku Kōka no Jutsu.” She didn’t know what happened to him, or why he was trying to kill Rin, but if he was a threat, she swore to neutralize him. 

They entered her mindscape.

Kakashi was rooted to the ground, staring at the fireball. He should’ve been frozen, unable to do anything but stare as it came closer and closer. 

It was in the flutter of his eyelashes, the twitch of his fingers, the way his pupils were blown open—he was already moving. With this genjutsu, it’d only be a matter of moments before he broke free.

She made the Rat seal, reaffirming the boundaries. Chains came looping around him, tying around his neck, his ankles and wrists, fettering him. His breath, she felt, hitched, and as did hers.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do, and tested the limits of her focus. 

Kakashi tried to struggle, his chakra a thrashing thing, desperate for release. It longed for freedom, as a thunderbolt longed from release from the clouds.

Sakura approaching him, noting his Sharingan eye—its startling intensity—a perfect match for Obito’s. Was he half-Uchiha?

He didn’t resemble them.

She traced the contours of his mask, and curious, looped a finger under it, pulling it down. Unlike Sasuke-kun, who she’d liken to a sleek feline, or perhaps a crow, Kakashi-san was more reminiscent of a wolf… or puppy.

Either way, his nose was enviably straight. 

He stiffened, straining doubly so against the chains. To her surprise, one snapped, a flinching buckle, the second not far away. “You’re strong,” she said, her voice modulated—her form appearing but as a wisp of smoke. “Too strong.” 

“You won’t leave me in here,” he rasped, every word a breath of air. “I’m going to get out of here, and murder all of you Mist scum.”

“You shouldn’t be able to lift a finger, much less speak.” The pain must have been excruciating—sweat beading down his temple, his pale skin blistered, and raw. It was incredible, really. 

She gazed up at the fireball, the fire spiraling off it, the grandeur, for it filled up half the sky. “I have a question for you,” she said. “Have you ever seen a meteor crash?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he gritted out.

He was going to break free from the genjutsu. It was undeniable. But she could make it hard for him. For her. She closed her eyes, her chakra blossoming. She wouldn’t let him hurt himself, or others.

Above, the meteor erupted in a typhoon of flame. Kakashi cried out, screaming, and although genjutsu wasn’t tearing through her mind, Sakura joined him. 

She was sure having her chakra coils ripped apart came a close second. She left their mindscape, clutching her chest. Too far, too soon. God, it hurt. She tried to breathe, but the smell of blood assaulted her. 

She hadn’t known it, but in that moment, her world tilted on its axis. It was seared into her, a brand to follow her for the rest of her days.

Perforated bodies, ripped, and skewered, and cleaved filled her vision; their chests gaping open, their limbs pulled and crushed, their eyes gone blind—God, how Sakura wished hers would be, too. 

The strangest above all were the trees. Thick trunks erupted from the ground, piercing the men with their branches, the most macabre of flowers. 

Something was running down her face, and for a horrified moment, Sakura feared the sky was raining blood, before realizing it was her tears. Obito. She just needed to find Obito, and run away. 

She saw a figure standing in the center of the carnage. Trees loomed over him, standing pillars to his presence. 

They stood over a corpse, a bone-white mask covering all but a scarlet eye. “Obito,” she murmured. She didn’t run to him. Something about him seemed unearthly. Unseemly… unsightly.

Did he cause all of this? she thought, and immediately retracted it. He wouldn’t have been able to. Couldn’t have. He was too kind. 

She approached him, her footsteps soft. “I get it now,” he said, his mask splitting apart in a corona of spikes, revealing his fraught face. There was something in him, a quality which had gone dark.

“I’m in hell.” 

“Obito? You’re scaring me.” He looked at her, and Sakura flinched, for this wasn’t her Obito, but a blackened, grim man. He was crying, she noted. Tears in one eye, blood in another, both dripping down his chin. 

“Sakura.” 

There was a corpse beneath his feet. Rin, she saw. 

“Rin’s dead. Kakashi killed her.”

“Kakashi? But I put him under a genjutsu. He couldn’t have. He struggled, really struggled, but I made sure to put an end to it. Unless it went wrong, of course.”

She swallowed, tears welling in her eyes. She harmed her body, potentially caused permanent damage, for absolutely nothing at all. “I’m sorry, Obito. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied. “It’s just the way things are.”

“What happened to Kakashi? Is he okay? He’s not going to try to kill us, right?” Goosebumps rose on her skin. 

“No, he isn’t. I don’t even think this is his fault. I don’t know, Sakura. I don’t know anything anymore.” 

“Should we bring him with us?” 

“No, he’ll be fine. He’s Kakashi.”

He reached down, lifting Rin in his arms. Lovingly, he stroked her hair. “Let’s go, Sakura.” 

She followed after him, her steps making ripples in puddles of blood, and suddenly, she had to know. 

“Obito,” she said, and perhaps it was the forcefulness behind it, because he stopped, gazing into her. “Did you kill all of these people?” She pointed around her, to the veritable massacre. 

“Did you cause this ocean of blood we’re standing in?”

His features were wooden, before shifting to the most virulent, mephitic expression Sakura had ever seen. 

“They deserved it,” he hissed. “They killed Rin, and tried to kill all of us. They did this to themselves! I just exacted God’s revenge, and if you disagree with that, then you’re not who I thought you were.”

Sakura’s hackles rose, even as her every instinct told her to keep quiet, and bow her head. “You’re not God, Obito. These people didn’t deserve this. I’m sure they were terrible, and awful, and so horrible, but they didn’t deserve this.”

She turned her head, unable to look at him. “I’m the one who isn’t sure who you are anymore.”

For once, Obito kept his silence. He listened to what she had to say, before unceremoniously marching forward.

It was a long run to come, and it’d be a longer walk back. She saw silver locks of hair, dyed red, and mussed scarlet. It was Kakashi. “Does Kakashi know you’re alive?” she muttered. 

“No.” 

Was there a message she could write to him? Something that’d affirm Obito will be back soon? If in pain, and hurting. She had no paper on her, nothing to write with. 

She saw a kunai on the ground, and grabbed it, wiping it on her qipao. She had never gotten dirty enough to see if stains would be brought back with her. She grimaced.

She’d have to burn her sheets. 

She approached Obito. “Hold still.” She cut a lock of his coarse hair, and for posterity, cut a lock of her own as well. 

She put them in Kakashi’s hand, seeing it involuntarily curl. “So he knows.” Obito didn’t reply, keeping his silence as they made their grim pillage. It was dawn by the time they came back to the cave. Sakura had never felt so exhausted before.

She was sure she overslept for school. Usually, sleep struck her naturally, and she’d fall asleep. She always knew when it happened, and said her goodbyes to Obito, or wrote a quick note so he wouldn’t worry.

She realized a bit belatedly that they’d have to make a grave for Rin. Obito lowered her down, commanding Sakura in a very deep voice, “Watch over her.”

She shuffled to her side, swallowing, but Rin was beautiful in repose, her full lips soft, her cheeks pale, and smooth. She couldn’t help but wonder. Did she know how much Obito loved her? Did she ever reciprocate? 

Obito’s left arm— porcelain white—formed a wooden shovel, pillars of wood erupting from the palm. There seemed to be something cathartic about it. The powerful flex of his arms, the intentness about his brows, the way his teeth ground together. 

When he was finished, he crouched beside Rin, laying her inside. He cupped her cheek, holding her for a long minute, before letting go. He didn’t bury her—knelt beside her grave instead. 

“When I train with Zetsu, they tell me how I’m going to inherit Madara’s plan,” he started quietly. ‘The Eye of the Moon,’ or something stupid like that. I always listen to what they have to say, but in my heart, I’m going back to Minato-sensei, and Bakashi, and Rin. 

“Now, I think he was right all along, Sakura. This world is a horrible place, filled with so much suffering, and pain. How much more peaceful would it be if we spent our lives dreaming? Why do people like Rin have to die?

“I’ll inherit your will, Madara-sama. Even if I’m bleached to the bone, I’ll see it through. I swear.” His voice broke on that last word. He huddled into himself, crying. Sakura was reminded of the day she used a genjutsu on Naruto.

The way his small body shook, and trembled. She, who heard every word Obito said, and saw every emotion flicker across his face, watched him, crying herself. 

There, in the Mountain Graveyards, Haruno Sakura and Uchiha Obito stood witness to Nohara Rin’s funeral. 

In the distance, Black Zetsu observed her. “It was a good thing I took control of Kakashi, wasn’t it? She would’ve ruined everything. He had to kill Rin. Sakura must stay as Obito’s pet.”

“They all would’ve died anyways,” replied White Zetsu. “Obito couldn’t stop the shinobi forever without his Mangekeyo Sharingan. I suppose you could say we did them a favor,” he said, laughing to himself.

“Yes, I suppose you could.” 

Chapter Text

When Sakura woke up, it was with a deep sense of relief. The nightmare was over: Dawn had arrived. She was sprawled in her blankets, closeted by four pink walls, the air conditioner whirring above.

Something like tears prickled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She had cried enough. She lay in her bed, encompassed in warmth. When she did rise, it was with dismay.

Her qipao, she found, wasn’t cleaned by the magical, time-traveling fairies, and she did indeed have to wash her sheets.

Upon heading downstairs, freshly showered, her mother commented, “I tried to wake you up for school, Sakura-chan, but it was like a demon had gotten into you.
No matter what I did, you stayed asleep, thrashing and flailing.”

Sakura swallowed. “There was a demon, Okaa-san,” and said no more.

It was with resignation she stayed home for the day. She needed to relax. Finals were only a week or two away. She’d have a few months off for the summer, and then she’d be in her sixth, and final year.

Four months after that, she'd be a genin with her Jōnin-sensei. Would she still have these visions then? They flashed across her mind whenever she closed her eyes. Gore, and blood, and pain.

“It’s good that you stayed home,” Okaa-san said, her lips pursing. “We have a visitor who’s coming over.”

“Who?”

“Akito.”

Sakura stared at her. “Why would you ever invite her?”

“Because I’m trying to understand, damn it,” she hissed, sounding none too happy in the kitchen, chopping cucumbers, and stirring them in a vat of sour lemonade.

“That’s Otou-san’s favorite,” Sakura observed.

“Yes, I’ll be very sure to remind her of that.”

Sakura pinched her blouse. She couldn’t very well greet Akito in her pajamas. She headed to her room, substituting into her more formal qipao. Her experiences with Akito were far from good, and she feared the status quo wouldn’t change.

She feared for her mother, too. She didn’t think Okaa-san had smiled once since learning of the affair. She parsed through a few pages of a novel, before the doorbell rang.

Akito was here.

She slid her bookmark in, glancing at her mother, who kept her face tight and neutral. She opened the door, bright evening light spilling in. “Welcome, Akito-chan.”

“Haruno-san.” Akito walked in, her crimson-red tresses flowing along her shoulders and back.

“Sit down. We have a lot to discuss.” Okaa-san directed her to the couches, where Sakura sat in her straightest posture. If Akito recognized her, she didn’t speak in the affirmative.

“I made some cucumber lemonade. It’s Kizashi’s favorite. Did you know that?”

“No. Just how he breathes in bed.”

Okaa-san froze. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm.”

She grabbed a caramel from the center of the table, passing one to Sakura. “Would you like one, Sakura-chan?”

Sakura looked at her with wide eyes. “No, thank you.” She fiddled with the pleats of her qipao, and asked, “Why did Otou-san write poems to you? You don’t seem like a person who’d like that type of stuff.”

Akito popped the caramel in her mouth, her tongue gliding over smooth teeth. “You’d be wrong. Kizashi’s friends with Misuki-sensei. He wrote them for me, and Mizuki-sensei hid them. It was always the highlight of my day to look around.”

“You can’t take Otou-san,” exclaimed Sakura. “He’s for me and Okaa-san!”

She shook her head. “I’m not stealing anyone.”

“Then why was he writing poems to you, and eating dinner in your company?”

“Because he loves me,” she said simply, and those four words took Sakura’s breath away. A moment later, Okaa-san came in with the lemonade. She handed one to Akito, but stumbled, sloshing some on her kimono.

“An accident,” she said.

Akito brushed it with a pale hand, her slender jaw locked, and tight. “I don’t think that was an accident.”

“Are you accusing me?”

She seemed about to speak, but murmured instead, “For Kizashi.”

Okaa-san ensconced herself beside Sakura, taking a sip of the lemonade.

“How did you two meet, Akito-chan?”

“Kizashi’s a—“

“Refer to him as Haruno-san.”

“Kizashi-san’s a merchant, and helped me and my Okaa-san with a transaction. Ever since my Otou-san, and older brothers died on October 10th, it’s just been me and her. We talked for a little while, and my Okaa-san invited him to dinner. Since then, it’s been history.”

“When did it become… something more?” From the look on her face, she seemed to hate asking.

“Three months ago.”

“And how long have you two known each other?”

“Six months.”

“Three months ago, I went to the Land of Tea to visit my distant family members.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Why did you do it?” voiced Sakura. “Don’t you know that it’s wrong?”

“Of course, I know it’s wrong. I’m not dumb. Everyone always says that.” She frowned, turning her head slightly. “To me, he feels like breathing after a long night of smoke.”

“With a married man, and his family!” Okaa-san interjected.

“I’m not ashamed.”

“Well, you should be. Unbelievable!”

“Don’t get too angry, Mebuki-san. Please calm down. As a nurse, I’m trained to help.”

“I don’t need your belittling help,” she snapped. “Just tell me. When would you two rats scurry around?”

“Firstly, we’re not rats, Mebuki-san, and we met after Kizashi’s work.”

“I knew it,” Sakura exclaimed, even as the thought flipped her stomach upside down. “Otou-san’s only been coming home late recently. It was really obvious that it had something to do with you.”

Akito shrugged.

“Do you really not care about what you’ve done? You tore a loving family apart. You and that damned husband of mine.”

“Was it really so loving,” she asked, “if Kizashi fled to my arms?”

Okaa-san opened her mouth to speak, but something seemed caught in her throat, for she closed it after a moment. “No, it wasn’t,” she decided.

“I love him,” Akito voiced suddenly. “Probably more than you.”

“Of course, you’re making it into a competition.” She shook her head, running thin fingers through her blonde hair. “I’ve learned enough today. I pray to every God that I never see your face again, Akito. Please take yourself out of my house.”

Akito didn’t argue. She stood up, her slender legs unfolding beneath her. “I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

“I’ll never forget.”

“Good.” And the door was shut behind her. In the end,
Sakura didn’t know what to think of her.

She was a monster to Okaa-san, awfully rude to Naruto.. but still intricate and new, too. Did Sakura want her to be a monster, too? She didn’t know. Monsters were what Obito had done.

She thought about him, and her parents, and falling asleep. She didn’t want to see him so soon. What had happened was terrifying. But she never had a choice in it.

***
When she woke up, it wasn’t inside of the cave. Cool stone was replaced with thick grass. Slate-gray corridors for verdant trees, and floral wind. She still knew where she was, fortunately—the forest.

It was a first for her to wake up away from the cave, and doubly dubious, the day after Rin died. She was about to leave, when she heard a voice: “Are you finally ready to take the next step? Madara-sama will be proud of you.”

Black Zetsu, a shade she likened to Madara’s middleman.

“Yes, I’ll do everything I can. With luck, the world will never know anguish again. No one like Rin will ever die. Shinobi, military, the Kages, all of its bullshit.”

Obito… She should’ve come out and greeted him, but kept her silence. Were they training? Discussing plans for the future? How much more rehabilitation did Obito even need? He said Zetsu told him about the Eye of the Moon plan.

“Of course, Obito. There’s so much to be done. Ah, where should we even start? Peace will soon be brokered throughout the Elemental Nations. The Leaf will be in a prosperous position, and will only expand in power.

“I’d recommend our first goal to destabilize certain institutions of theirs. Say, noteworthy individuals?”

The way they were speaking, Sakura thought, implied themselves in opposition to Konoha. Destabilize wasn’t a good word. Her heart quickened. Just what did the Eye of the Moon Plan entail? Who were these ‘individuals’?

Obito was in so much pain—this wasn’t the right way to go about it.

“If we do, it should be something small-scale. Konoha has so many people… We don’t need to kill all of them to achieve our goals. If I understand who you’re talking about, then it hurts more than you know. It really does.” Obito paused for a moment.

“But I’d still do it for the greater good. I know he’ll never agree with our plan.”

‘We don’t need to kill all of them to achieve our goals.’ They did. They really did mean to hurt Konoha.

Sakura always had a feeling that Zetsu was evil. Madara, too. But never Obito. It struck her then. At his most vulnerable—and likely far before, she realized—they were twisting him into their schemes—polluting his mind.

She had to inform someone. A jōnin, or Hokage-sama himself.

“Obito, your kindness does you a disservice. What’s one death to the salvation of all else? Neither should you feel anguish for former comrades. They’ll all oppose you now. This plan is too far above them.”

“I know that. Of course, I know that. All I can think about is Rin’s death. Rin dying. Rin having to die. It makes me so angry, I can breathe fire.” His hand clenched into a fist, pressing against his heart. “Damn it!”

He turned around, great bouts of flame leaving his lips, engulfing a wide swathe of trees.

“I know, Obito. Quash those feelings of yours, and you’ll find your plan succeeded in a heartbeat.”

Sakura eyed a burning tree, a seed of anger nestling inside of her. Zetsu wasn’t going to win. Between him and her, she wouldn’t lose.

“Obito-san,” she called, emerging behind the trees.

“Sakura, why did you come find us?”

“She didn’t,” Zetsu interjected. “I would’ve felt her. She appeared here, which is something I don’t think she’s ever done. How long were you there?”

“I just arrived, Zetsu-sama. I don’t eavesdrop.”

Obito frowned. “That’s strange.”

She nodded. “Hai.”

Zetsu bowed to Obito. “I’ll take my leave. We’ll finish our conversation at a later date.” He glanced at Sakura, before melting in the ground.

“Do you want to do something, Obito?” she asked.

“No, I need to train.”

“I’ll go with you then.”

“By myself.”

Before she could say a word more, he left. Their relationship had changed, but she wasn’t going to give up on him. If Zetsu, Black or White, thought he could go unopposed, he didn’t know what she was capable of.

***
Sakura had never written a letter to a Kage before, especially concerning sensitive information.

She didn’t know if she’d be as lucky to spy on Zetsu and Obito again, and now that they knew she didn’t appear just inside the cave anymore, they were bound to be more careful.

She kept the letter simple, intending to hand it to Hokage-sama herself—her excuse being that a mysterious shinobi gifted it to her, before riding off into the sunset.

Her primary dilemma was the handwriting—it caused her pain to see her meticulous kanji curve and slant, as she did her best to remove herself from the contents.

She wrote:

Mysterious entities called Zetsu’s pursue Konoha’s instability: White, formless creatures, capable of Mokuton.
With them is Uchiha Madara. They see to the means of the Eye of the Moon Plan, something surely ignominious.

“Where are you going, Sakura-chan?” asked Naruto, helping himself to her bento (she wasn’t in the mood to eat).

“The Hokage Tower.”

His eyes widened. “Really? Why?”

“I have something to give to him,” she said, and before he could say anymore, she raised her hand in adieu. “Ja ne, Naruto!” She made her way through the hallways, and up the stairs, all the way to the tapered top of the building.

She saw genin with their sensei, smiling, and apple-cheeked, a few of their truant eyes resting on her.

As Sandaime-sama wasn’t handing out any missions, she was allowed in. “Sakura-chan,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I have something to give to you, Hokage-sama,” she replied.

“Oh?”

She gave the letter to him. “Some shinobi gave this to me.”

“That’s strange.” He unfolded it, unraveling the sheet of paper inside. As he read, his brows knitted together. “You don’t recall anything about them? Even the way they smell?”

“No, Hokage-sama. They were all in black, and threw it to me, before disappearing. It was really scary actually.” Here, she tactfully shivered.

“It was the village's shortcoming to not being able to apprehend him. Forgive us on my behalf.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama.”

“I’ll have to discuss the letter with my advisors. You may leave, Sakura-chan. I’ll call you back at a later date.”

As long as she kept to her story, everything would be fine…

Half an hour later, the Third Hokage stroked his beard. “Send out a missive for Kakashi-kun. I have a mission for him,” he told his ANBU. One knelt before him, but an inky wisp, before departing through the window.

“We should interrogate her. It’s a waste of village resources to go through this process,” said Shimura Danzo, his bandages tight on his body and face.

“Young girls such as Sakura-chan don’t react well to direct questioning. Kakashi-kun also needs to step outside of his comfort zone.”

“If the contents are found true, Hiruzen, we can’t afford to consider those trivial matters.”

“As the Hokage, this is what I’ve ordered.” He held his gaze, before turning away. Kakashi had come.

“Sandaime-sama,” he said, bowing, his silver hair glimmering in the light.

“Kakashi, I have a mission for you. Since you seem resolved to fail every genin team I send you, I hope this B-ranked mission will provide you with some new initiative.”

“Hai.”

“One of the students in the Academy, Haruno Sakura, recently provided me with a letter. It held some very worrying contents, if found true.” He slid it over to him.

“Dont open it. Tell me, do you notice anything peculiar?”

“May I hold it?”

“Yes.”

He picked it up, stroked it, brought it to his mask, and turned it over. “It looks, and feels similar to the ones sold in Konoha. The scent is right, too.” He pointed to a faint watermark in a corner. “And only letters made in the village have this seal.”

“Very good. Haruno Sakura claimed a frightening stranger had given this to her, before running off. But if they were already in the village, comfortable enough to walk in a store and purchase items, then it’s a bit strange, don’t you think.

“It would also make more sense for the letter to be given to someone higher-ranked, such as a chunin or jonin, not a fifth-year Academy student. All of that leads to the conclusion that Sakura-chan was expressly selected.”

Danzo clicked his cane against the floor. “She’s suspicious, in short.”

The Third Hokage nodded. “I need you to ingratiate yourself with her, Kakashi, and delve deeply into her life. Try to see if there was more she didn’t say about the person who gave her the letter.

“Since she is young, she won’t react kindly to open interrogation, so treat her with prudence.”

Danzo added, “It’s imperative that you treat this mission fastidiously. Why was Haruno Sakura chosen? What is her background? The Haruno’s are from a clan in the Land of Tea. Are the letters contents meant to be a smokescreen from more nefarious dealings?

“These seemingly trivial questions could hold answers of great import.”

“We’ll have you on your way then, Kakashi,” the Third Hokage finished. “Your mission will formally begin tomorrow. Take her profile with her.” He nodded to the chunin assisting him, who handed the folder.

“If that’s all, Hokage-sama.” Kakashi kept himself cool, but as he ran across the rooftops, his mind blurred with the information. The girl with the pink hair. He knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.

Haruno Sakura, fifth-year Academy student.

Born on March 28th.

Blood Type: O

4’9, weighing 74 pounds.

Noted as a talent with chakra control. Possible genjutsu skill. Top academic scorer.

Parents are Kizashi and Mebuki Haruno, both retired genin.

Her folder didn’t offer any particularly intriguing insight into her, aside from the note about her chakra control, and intelligence. She seemed a standard girl, of fair means, and common sense.

Had it not been for the way her hair shone in the morning light, the matching shade of that day… and now Sandaime-sama’s address.

Early the next morning, he reconnoitered. He perched in the boroughs of a tree, gazing at her through her window. He saw her rise, planting an arm for support, before hopping off of bed.

She dressed herself, where he shielded his eyes, and brushed her teeth. A bento hung from her backpack as she departed down the gray-paved road. A light fog settled, twining and slithering beneath her feet.

She made for an easy target, and he kept careful watch,
following her along the rooftops. He recalled the day he found her in the forest, scritched, and scratched, tangles in her hair.

It was a strange image to relate to her. Her head bent low, steps shuffled, sounds of apology at the barest touch. Beneath her breath, she whispered—hand seals. Rat, and Tiger.

It was very strange. It sounded like she was memorizing a jutsu—and she probably was. He noted it down. She came from civilians. What could she possibly be learning?

It was hard to find her as a plant, but more severe measures had been taken. Since she was heading to the Academy, he had a decision before him. Either he joined her or waited until she left.

If he chose the former, it’d help him see how she conducted herself in social settings, and who she socialized with, allowing him better means to understand, and thus manipulate her.

Was anyone in her class out today?

It would be someone unassuming… quiet. A solitary figure, garbed in a long coat, with a shock of brown hair.
As a hawk did a rabbit, he eyed the Aburame. The clan’s men were distinctive for their attire, and solemn mien.

He was a little ways behind Sakura, his eyes on a book in his hands.

He could pretend to be him for the day. All he had to do was remove him from the scene. There couldn’t be two of them naturally. Kids his age didn’t like going to school, right? It was a good thing Sakura headed to the Academy so early.

There was no one around to say otherwise.

He jumped in front of him, his hands in his pockets. “School’s cancelled, kid,” he said.

“Shinobi-san,” he replied. “I wasn’t aware. Why? No one told me. I’m surprised my Okaa-san didn’t know.”

“Listen, instead of stressing her out, why don’t you play around in the park until the usual time to go. No harm no foul.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like the park. Why? No one wants to play with me.”

“Why don’t you just read your book?”

He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, looking downwards. “If I go to the park, I’d like to play, not read.”

When Kakashi was his age, his favorite pastime was watching the older shinobi spar. The clash of kunai—the roar of flames and spark of lightning thrilled him. He’d join them, too, but that was in a different time.

“This isn’t something I usually do,” he began, “but you seem relatively well-behaved. Have you ever heard of the Jonin training grounds?”

“The Jonin training grounds? Of course. Why? They’re known for their elaborate spars, and stunning ninjutsu. Are you going to take me there, Shinobi-san?”

“Seems like it. Hop on my back.”

Genma was there, fortunately, and Kakashi asked him to look after the Aburame. Shino, he learned. He didn’t linger, and by the time Iruka-sensei started his lecture, he was seated a little ways off from Sakura, in prime position to glean information.

The first thing he learned was rather startling: She was friends with Naruto. They communed with each other, whispering, a smile lighting up Naruto’s face. Sakura helped him take notes, and she was very good at that.

Rose her hand in the correct intervals, asked clarifying questions, wrote steadfastly. It was to be expected from a top academic scorer..

The second thing he learned was that she got bored fairly quickly. While she maintained attention, it was a formality of sorts. She murmured those seals again, and again. Rat, Tiger, Rat, Tiger, Rat, Tiger, Rat, Tiger.

She was likely too far ahead of the class. It would’ve done her well to advance a year or so.

The third thing he learned was a contested relationship with Yamanaka Ino. Ino had stood up for a tissue, and brushed Sakura’s arm. “Sorry about that, Billboard-brow.”

“Don’t talk to me, Ino-pig.”

“Even when I’m trying to be nice to you, you have to put me down.”

“Then don’t insult me. I wouldn’t act so smug if I was you. Especially when Sasuke-kun started a conversation with me.”

“A fluke,” Ino said. “He was just clearing the cobwebs.”

“Then you’re a haunted house.”

He kept an eye on any other interactions she might’ve had, but aside from that moment, she kept her quiet.

If she had any friends, they would’ve sat down by her. It was unlikely that she had them outside of class either, since Academy students progressed with each other.

Her relationship with Naruto was also a recent development. Sandaime-sama would’ve told him if he knew. He was left with this—she was a loner. A loner cast in pretty pink shades, yes, with a maroon qipao.

Iruka-sensei seemed to have a sense for her and Naruto’s newfound bond, too, for he paired them up for an activity.

Kakashi was with Hinata.

They were sorting the causes and effects of each Great Ninja War, identifying the notable individuals, and events. He knew all the answers, and as did she. They took turns putting them in the proper order.

“What can you say about Haruno-san?” he asked her.

“Haruno-san?” Hinata repeated, her eyes wide. “I don’t know her well, Aburame-san, so I really can’t say, but I think she’s very, very cool.”

“Cool?”

“Hai. She always answers Iruka-sensei’s questions correctly. She’s very pretty, and..” She blushed. “And she’s friends with Naruto.” It seemed like she had more to say, but ended there.

“Go on, Hyuuga-san.”

“Maybe, maybe… maybe she’s my rival,” she whispered. “Please don’t tell anyone this, Aburame-san, but seeing Naruto with Sakura lights a fire within me.”

“Do you like him?” he asked, and she erupted in a violent flush. Very quietly indeed did she lift, and drop her head.

“I feel like Haruno-san has been acting differently lately,” he continued. “Hyuuga-san, do you agree?”

“You’re really interested in Haruno-san today, Aburame-san.”

“I’m curious.”

She hesitated for a moment, before saying, “I don’t mean to say anything about her, but I think she’s been more distracted lately. It started during her two weeks of detention with Naruto.

“She’s quieter now. I was staying after hours for an assignment, yes, an assignment, and left very late. Before, I never saw her after school. I think she did all of her studying at home. Now, she leaves later, or goes to the park, or stalls.”

“I’m sure you know this, Hyuuga-san, because Uzumaki-san is right there with her.”

Hinata blushed, but didn’t refute his words.

Still, based on what she said, it was obvious something was amiss. She said Sakura was in detention for two weeks? That seemed irregular for a straight-laced student. It could also explain her despondency.

“How did she get in detention again?” he asked.

“You were there, Aburame-san. It was very hard to forget.” She lowered her voice. “When Naruto’s prank on Iruka-sensei went wrong, she got caught for helping him.”

He thought over it, clarifying, “She and Naruto only became friends after detention, right?”

“Hai.”

It made sense then. Before they resolved their differences, Naruto was likely bothering Sakura. Annoyed, she’d send him off. Kakashi nodded to himself.

His mental image of her was becoming rather firm, but her connection to the letter, and the mysterious writer was as tenuous as ever. He just had to ask her himself, he figured. Tomorrow, he decided, he’d walk with her to the Academy.

Chapter Text

To Sakura’s dismay, there was no new genjutsu for her to memorize. Yesterday, she reviewed the seals for the Kurayami Tsuki no Jutsu—the Dark Moon Technique, a C-ranked illusion that blurred vision.

As her apprehension had only grown with time, she felt a new need for protection. The books had offered four genjutsu to her, but there seemed to be no more in sight. She even skimmed through all of the fourth and sixth volumes, being on the third, in an exhaustive six-hour process.

She feared what she knew wouldn’t be enough.

She held the straps of her backpack just a little tighter. What was the worst that could even happen? Even as she had the thought, she rejected it. Portentous depths awaited her.

She left through the door, the wind cold against her sheer skin, her steps shuffled as she traced the familiar path to the Academy. “May I walk with you?” came a man’s redolent voice.

Turning around, Sakura's eyes widened. A tall figure stood, hands in their pockets, loose locks gleaming silver in the sun. Broad-shouldered, and clad in a jōnin’s dress, they made for a handsome sight.

A mask concealed half their face, and their headband was slanted to cover an eye, the other clear and dark. Yes, she thought Kakashi was good-looking too, because that could be none other than him!

Was he under henge? Had the perilous effects of puberty taken him overnight? Shouldn’t he be at a hospital recuperating? He looked ten years older!

If it wasn’t the Kakashi she knew (did their fight count?), then did he have an older brother?

“You’re staring,” he observed.

Sakura flushed, shaking her head. “What’s your name, Shinobi-san?”

“Hatake Kakashi.”

“Hatake Kakashi?” she repeated.

“Hai.”

“Are you joking with me?”

“Now, why would I ever do something so ludicrous? Do you recognize the name from somewhere?”

It confirmed it for her. She was being pranked. Terribly so. She dreamed of Obito, yes, but time travel? Evidently, she’d been going back more than a decade in the past. No, she had to ignore him—and she already found the perfect excuse.

“Can you lift your headband?” she asked.

“Terrible eye infection.”

“Then you know you have poor depth perception, right?”

“Naturally.”

“For your own safety, please walk six feet behind me. You might get hurt.”

“It’s kind of you to worry, but I’ve mastered it.”

“No, you are very weak and feeble, Hatake-san. You might fall down and break all of your bones. For your sake, I won’t budge.” She started forward, her hair swishing behind her, but in one long stride, he kept up with her.

“I won’t because I’m taking antibiotics. You really don’t have to worry. Let’s just take a walk together.” Belatedly, he added, “And be best friends.”

“Respectfully, I don’t want to be your best friend, Hatake-san,” she said, and feeling slightly bothered by his blasé attitude, continued, “I know antibiotics won’t work for you, since you have a virus. I’ve read about people with your condition.”

“My mysterious viral condition.”

“Yes. It causes death in three to four weeks, if you don’t remove the anterior part of the superlative humerus.”

“The humerus is the upper arm bone. I never knew it was so related to eye infections.”

Caught, and cheeks asimmer, she turned on her heel. She only made a few feet, before Kakashi grabbed her arm. “Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I lied. I’m sorry. There was no eye infection. I was embarrassed because… I, actually, don’t have an eye..”

A brain either!

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I forgot your name. What was it again?”

Sakura didn’t particularly want to answer him, but there was a certain malleability in a girl raised to obey her elders. When they said jump, she flew. “Sakura,” she said. “Haruno Sakura.”

“Cherry blossom. It suits you.”

“You cover your eye because you don’t have one. Is it for the same reason you wear a mask?”

“No, I do have a mouth.”

“What if you were eating something right now?”

“I’d have a happy stomach then.”

“And me some peace and quiet,” she mumbled, because Sakura only took the best of those lessons.

“You know, you’re not what I expected.”

“You’re not what I expected either.”

“Why? What were you expecting?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all, really.”

He took a step. “Let’s talk on your way.”

With some hesitance on her part, they went.

“I see you walking to and from the Academy,” he said. “Your parents don’t wait for you, right?”

“Hai.”

“Are you close to anyone else, Sakura-chan? Maybe an aunt or uncle?”

She glanced at him, but answered easily enough. “No. It’s just me and them.”

“Do you not have any friends you hang out with then?”

“Just two, I guess… I won’t say who the first one is, but the second is Uzumaki Naruto-kun.”

She couldn’t tell, but Kakashi straightened. “Girls your age shouldn’t be keeping secrets.”

“I do, Hatake-san, and I’m not a boy.”

“If I ask nicely?”

“I’d say I’m closed for the day.”

Him wanting to know more about Obito? It was blasphemous. His words for her alone. The smell of his scent but hers. She didn’t know how to share those details. More darkly, came Rin’s funeral. She didn’t know if she could.

With a suspicious stranger no less.

They continued, the Academy coming into view. Quite tall, the Hokage Tower stood stark, rising above the buildings. People were waking, a few milling outside to water flowers, or retrieve mail.

Fakekashi left her by the Academy entrance, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he spoke. “Until then.”

Sakura looked at him, not offering a response. He turned around, waving a cavalier goodbye. A strange man, she decided, heading inside.

Like most days, the Academy proved prosaic. They were studying for their finals, having to memorize an assortment of mathematical equations, grammatical rules, and historical legislation. Shinobi rules as well.

She made plans with Naruto to head to the park after class, and it was with him that she completed the day. Had a glimmer of silver not caught her eye, perhaps she would’ve missed Kakashi, a long, lean figure, his skin lit the slightest gold.

She approached him, asking, “You’re really going to be here in the mornings and evenings, Hatake-san?”

“I don’t go back on my word, Sakura-chan.”

Naruto, following her, glared up at him, his whiskers twitching. “He looks like a weirdo, Sakura-chan.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to strangers,” Kakashi noted.

“I don’t care, dattebayo.”

A beat.

“Who are you ignoring, baka?”

“Naruto,” Sakura warned, but his name was quiet. She either defended Kakashi, implicitly allowing him into her life, or continued her obstinance. She should’ve chosen the latter. He wasn’t even the real Hatake Kakashi.

Still, she said,“We have to show respect, Naruto. Hatake-san’s a tireless shinobi who protects the village.”

A silver brow rose, but there came no dissent.

Naruto scowled. “Is he going to be there when we hang out?”

Sakura turned to him, expecting refusal, for he was tall, and older, and surely had many obligations.

To her surprise, he inclined his head. “Why would you want to be there, Hatake-san?” she enquired. “Isn’t that a little… odd?”

“It’s like I said. I want to be your friend.”

“Why?”

He looked about to speak, before swallowing his words. He said, “I have a hard time making friends with people my own age. With yours, it’s a little easier.”

Sakura thought it over, a crinkle between her brows. “If you’re lonely, then maybe I can spend time with you.”

He cleared his throat. “Really?”

“Mhm. But only when I’m free, and my Otou-san, and Okaa-san aren’t allowed to see you.” She didn’t think they’d react well.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he replied. “Thank you.”

Naruto looked between the two of them, his hands clenching into fists. “You can’t be her friend,” he erupted. “You’re too old, and gray, grandpa.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“More like ninety one a hundred and two!”

“Naruto, please.”

Naruto stared at him for a moment longer, before breaking off. “Fine, but if you hurt Sakura-chan, you’re gonna wish you’re dead.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was as a group that they walked to the park. Why was Hatake-san really doing all of this? she pondered. She didn’t believe his excuse. Obviously, he had a fascination with little boys and girls. That much was undisputed, but there had to be more to it.

Maybe, a quiet part inside her said, he was very, very sensitive, like a delicate flower. Someone hurt him, like how Ami hurt her. Maybe, he was just like her.

***
Throughout the coming days, Sakura learned many things about Kakashi. His favorite food was eggplant miso; he disliked sweets, tempura, or people when they were mean to Naruto, she reckoned.

He also read these books. She’d glimpse the title, before he’d notice her looking, and cover it with a white sheet. Icha Icha… If he was so invested, she ought to give it a go, too.

When he wasn’t reading, he asked her questions, and never took no for an answer. He’d hound her incessantly. He smelled blood with his query about Obito, and was insatiable since. But regarding him, she kept her lips sealed.

Naruto was with them nine times out of ten, and Kakashi didn’t seem to mind, if the former grumbled. An unlikely trio, they made. Only one time were they by themselves, and it was because Naruto was in detention.

They were taking a walk together—about three quarters of their interactions took place on their legs, it seemed—and Kakashi asked her, “Do you ever feel like the world is too much?”

“What do you mean, Hatake-san?”

He pointed to a Hashirama tree. Massively thick, replete with the verdant leaves of summer air. It towered over them, shadows pooling in its wake. “Imagine you’re this tree. Healthy, strong, full.”

“Hai.”

“You have deep roots, but sometimes the world tests you. It gives you storms to weather, lightning striking down.” He jumped up, grabbing a branch. With one powerful wrench, he broke it off, tossing it to the ground.

The branch, like the tree, wasn’t small. In fact, it was about five Sakura’s high, and two Haruno’s wide.

Her eyes widened.

“So you’re left hurt and alone, needing help.” He settled his hands on Sakura’s shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “Do you ever feel like that, Sakura? Have you ever felt like it’s just you? Carrying a heavy weight?”

His words strung a chord, leaving her feeling strangely bare. “Sometimes,” she whispered. “I don’t know. I feel like there’s so much for me to do. I can never rest. Not ever. And I can never relax either. Wherever I go, there’s this overwhelming pressure.”

“What pressure, Sakura?”

It helped to say the words—lightened an invisible burden. But she couldn’t say the truth. Her heart shuttered close, even as her eyes lifted. “Nothing, Hatake-san. I swear, it’s nothing that you have to worry about.”

He assessed her face, and his eye curved into a smile. He let her go.

Since then, not much had changed, save for his book being more open than not. As much as Sakura was curious about Kakashi, Obito worried her perpetually.

He was drawing further and further into his schemes with Zetsu. She wanted to shout at him, yell at his foolishness, but as quickly as she came, she was whisked away to the cave.

As her appearances were still erratic, Zetsu had gained a cautious eye. She knew the Hokage had received her message, and perhaps it was a posthaste endeavor. Yet in her bones, she felt a deep sense of unease.

Nothing good would come from their planning.

***
Neru Tama no Jutsu: Jeweled Sleep Technique. C-ranked. Coerces the target to a tranquil sleep—noted as a derivative of the Nehan Shōja no Jutsu. The hand seals are Bird, Dog, and Rat.

Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu: Demonic Illusion: Death Mirage Technique. D-ranked. Forces the target to confront their greatest fear. Considered very standard. The hand seals are Snake, and Rat.

Magen: Jigoku Kōka no Jutsu: Demon Illusion: Hell-Fire technique. C-ranked. Summons a ball of flame, forcing the target to watch and burn. The hand seals are Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, and Ram.

Kurayami Tsuki no Jutsu: Dark Moon Technique. C-ranked. Casts murky vision in a large radius. The hand seals are Rat, and Tiger.

Chapter Text

———————————————————————————-

Omake - Crush

———————————————————————————-
“Why do you like Rin?” asked Sakura. Ahead, the village rose in spruce squares, vendors calling wares, and swarthy children streaking through stalls.

“Rin,” Obito said, tilting his head skyward. “There’s so many reasons. She’s a med-nin, to start with, and it fits her perfectly. She’s kind, and always helps others. Strong, too. I wouldn’t say I got bullied, but I was the dead-last. She’s the only one who believes in me.”

He tugged her closer, his arm around her shoulders. “I bet you’re the second. Wanna be my assistant when I’m Hokage?”

“Naruto would be mad,” she muttered. Louder, she said, “I want to be no one’s assistant.”

“You sure? Who am I supposed to loan all the work to?”

“Bakashi.”

Obito laughed, his teeth flashing white. “Exactly! Him, and sensei.”

They headed into the store, he for a whetstone, and Sakura as company. It was nice to look around. Her hand trailed along the ornaments, quite the litany displayed. Worn tomes, jewelry, carved statuettes—weaponry.

A calendar hung on the wall, marked September, the strangest thing yet: It was the end of spring after all. Beside it was a painting, man and woman, bound by a severed red thread.

Otou-san, and Okaa-san, she thought dolefully.

“You look sad,” said Obito from behind her.

“The painting.”

“Who—oh.”

She bit her lip. “I thought they loved each other, but they fight all the time. Okaa-san feels betrayed, I think, but how can shouting and being mean at Otou-san help? I just want them to love each other again.”

“I don’t know how to help,” Obito admitted softly, “but I’m here.”

Sakura tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the pastel strands lit rose-gold. “I know you are, Obito-san.”

Tentatively, they shared a smile.

***
Obito-san… I’m not sure how to begin this letter. Finals are tomorrow, and I’m a little worried, but my thoughts keep circling back to you.

You’ve been ignoring me ever since Rin died, spending so much more time with Zetsu, talking, and planning. I was waiting for something to happen. I’m not sure. I’ve decided to be more productive, and write down what I’m thinking.

You seem healed. Why haven’t you come back home to Konoha? I could finally see you without dreaming.

Well, I know why, I guess. The Eye of the Moon Plan.

I admit, I’m a little angry with you. We can’t trust Zetsu. This may be hard to hear, but please listen. He’s been manipulating you the entire time. Him and Uchiha Madara.

Madara didn’t hide in a nice cave after fighting Shodaime-sama. He has to have ulterior motives. It scares me sometimes… Please, let me talk with you. We haven’t had a single conversation since that day. I miss you. If I see you, I’ll tell you to take this letter.

I don’t trust Zetsu to give it to you.

With love,

Haruno Sakura.

***
Zetsu stole my last letter. I appeared in the woods, and I heard you training. I didn’t think. I just ran. He was hot on my trail, and your shirt was off, and I got distracted, I think. You must have heard me shouting at you, but you just watched. Watched as Zetsu dragged me back to the cave.

Were you the one who told him to keep me there? Every now and then, I see some new books, and I always have food and water. You’re treating your prisoner well, I guess. Obito, I’m really worried about you. If you get this letter, let’s just talk. Please.

***
It’s been a couple of days since I last wrote a letter. Zetsu took my second one of course, and I’ve been scheming since.

Please listen. Zetsu is no good. You know that feeling you get when you meet someone, and in your head, you think, ‘This one’s no good.’ My Otou-san tells me to trust that voice, and it’s been cautioning me.

Cautioned you, too. You’re just ignoring it now.

Why don’t we have a conversation, Obito? Talk? I know… I was there with you.

***
On my sixth letter, Obito, and a part of me hopes that this will be the last. I miss being your friend. So much. The Eye of the Moon Plan…

***
My seventh letter…becoming routine…

***
Fifteenth…

***
Sakura panted, clutching her chest, every breath an ache. “Neru Tama no Jutsu,” she gritted out, chakra welling inside her, and pulsing with a near audible thud.

As the two Zetsu lunged, tendrils of wood shooting from their hands, they froze, folding in on themselves. Healed from her attack on Kakashi, Sakura’s pathways flowed fluid, if warmed.

She continued her sprint, marking their numbers to her tally—a total of five now. “Obito,” she shouted. “Uchiha Obito! You will stop ignoring me.” White Zetsu’s goal seemed to only incapacitate, and had it been otherwise, Sakura wasn’t sure she’d have made it this far.

He was likely training, in line with the little she saw of him. His muscles had grown, from sinewy tendon to corded steel. She recalled an image of him, throwing kunai, but a rippling blur, his black hair agleam—the sun shining upon his glistening skin.

Her heart thudded, and it was the entirely wrong moment for such a feeling. Besides, she was loyal to Sasuke-kun, dattebayo! She poured on speed, chakra strengthening her legs.

When she woke, it was always by Obito’s side. More often than not, he was at the lake, that glittering expanse of cerulean. He had been stretching, before seeing her and running off. With hope, he’d be there.

She made a sharp turn, sending a spray of dirt in the air, pebbles cascading down. The land grew familiar, and she knew she was close. It was as she took the final step, an azure glint just ahead, that the ground rumbled, roots wrapping around her ankles and legs.

She turned her head, the sixth Zetsu’s ivory stark in the vale. She tried to pull free, but added to her troubles, and fell, vines wrapping about her, binding her hands. Sans genjutsu, she had no means of escape, she thought in desperation.

They constricted her, stealing her breath, a snake’s embrace. Then, “Let her go, Zetsu. She found me.” Clad feet came into view, a pair of lean legs. “You’ve been writing letters, I’ve heard.”

They graciously receded, leaving Sakura to glance above.

“Come,” Obito said. “We should talk.”

She warily followed after him, the lake shining refulgent, emanating an inner light. He kneeled by the edge, leaning back on his arms.

“Obito—“

“Let’s just relax. Okay?”

Sakura didn’t want to, but sensitive of their relationship, listened. He continued genially, “I’m planning on cutting my hair soon.”

Sakura’s verdant eyes traced the long lines. “How short?”

“Very, I think.”

“Don’t. Style it.” She was sure the Eye of the Moon Plan didn’t entail him handsome, but a part of her couldn’t bear it. “You should push it back, and leave a few locks to frame your face.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

A breeze picked up, sliding against her skin. Sakura shivered. “It’s getting colder,” she said. “I didn’t notice inside the cave. It’s supposed to get hot in the summer.”

“It’s fall, Sakura. Today’s October eight.”

She started, recalling the calendar. They were in the Mountain Graveyards, she learned, a distance from Konoha, but to the extent of seasonal differences? How hadn’t she noticed before? Everything was so lush here.

Hatake-san was older, too… He was an impostor, she reminded herself. “Why haven’t you let me see you?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So busy that you couldn’t read my letters?”

His eye pierced her, fathomlessly dark. “Yes. You have no idea what I have to do, Sakura.”

“The Eye of the Moon Plan. I do.” Her hands tightened. “I overheard you and Zetsu, Obito-san. You’re planning to attack Konoha.”

“You don’t have the full details. You don’t understand how necessary this step in our plan is.”

“But Zetsu does, right?”’

He sighed, slightly. “You’re naive. When you're older, you’ll see that the world is full of shit. People like Rin die everyday. It’s never going to stop, unless I fight for it. And I need no plant to tell me that.”

“So killing people like my Otou-san, and Iruka-sensei is what you’re going to do?”

He shook his head. “Keep asking your questions. You don’t know enough.”

Sakura frowned, a quiescent scowl forming. Few things fueled her ire, but devaluing her intelligence sent fire to her veins. The way he spoke aggravated her doubly. “You became both ungrateful, and ugly to talk to,” she decided.

“Ungrateful? What’s there to be grateful for, Sakura? You’re not going to mention Rin, are you?”

“It's been a month since Rin died, Obito-san. How can someone as incredible as you be so immature? Listening to Zetsu won’t get you what you want.

“That stuff you say about how terrible the world is, and how only you can fix it? You’re only thinking of yourself.” She hesitated before adding, “If Rin loved you, she’d say the same.”

Obito’s eye bled red, whorling into a crimson Sharingan. “Are you finished?”

She held his gaze. “Yes.”

And choked, for his hand was on her throat, squeezing.

“If you were anyone else, anyone else, I’d throttle you dead,” he roared. “That’s my fucking gratitude. In two days, Konoha will burn, Sakura, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. You’re nothing. Do you fucking hear me?” He shook her, powerful tremors tossing her back and forth

“Nothing! So don’t ever fucking talk about Rin, and how she feels about me every again. Say her name one more time, and I’ll pull your damn tongue from your mouth!”

He threw her, spitting by her feet, vanishing in a whoosh of air. On the ground, Sakura blinked, tears brimming in her eyes. She didn’t think she said anything wrong. How… why…

Her heart raced in her chest, so quickly that she couldn’t catch her breath, and she tried to breathe in and out, but it only worsened, and the tears in her eyes intensified, and her neck throbbed.

She pressed her face against her hands, shaking. Obito wasn’t okay. Not at all. He hurt her. He was going to hurt Konoha. October the tenth would be Naruto’s birthday, the day of… “The Kyuubi Attack,” she breathed.

But that didn't make much sense, and she rather wanted to weep, not ponder. Perhaps, she would’ve—had her mind not whirled, dragging her to infernal depths.

Rumors of the Uchiha’s complicity, Hatake-san’s age, Zetsu’s and Obito’s intention to ‘destabilize institutions’. Clans. Shinobi. Noteworthy individuals.. The Fourth Hokage’s death on October the tenth, Konoha’s rising star.

Seeking vengeance, pain, Obito condemning the Hidden Villages for Rin’s death. Her village—and the pieces fell into place. More than a decade in the past, he’d release the Nine Tails, ravaging Konohagakure. Hundreds would die, a thousand be maimed.

Sakura travelled through time since the very first day, thrust through the looking glass. A mantle had set upon her: A S-ranked mission, she saw. To prevent the Kyuubi Attack, and change the course of destiny.

She sniveled, her thoughts flowing back to Obito. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about his hand on her?

***
Sakura paced back and forth, ruminating, a cold unease coiling within her. The letter she wrote to Sandaime-sama? About eleven years late. Her interactions with Hatake-san… awfully embarrassing.

She had her time asleep, and a morning more, before October the tenth. The Kyuubi Attack was a cataclysmic night, they were told, where their valiant, young Kage sacrificed his life to defend the village.

After the Third Great Shinobi War, Konoha was left to prosper, and although a golden era of peace reigned thereafter, it was as marred as the clawed scars on the village.

Considering she always woke by Obito, if he was in the village at the time, she could rush to warn Yondaime-sama. If they were on the way, she’d do much the same, and if the Kyuubi was attacking, then it was to the Uchiha.

The Fourth Hokage would be preoccupied, and it stood to reason that if the Sharingan was behind the Kyuubi’s ensorcellement, then a second eye could undue the spell.

Of course, once she provided her information to Yondaime-sama, she was sure he’d come to the same conclusion, but there was an order to these things.
Maybe, they could bring Kakashi.. but the notion set her to a tizzy.

The earlier the better, naturally. It wouldn’t do much good if she came to the village half destroyed.

She was composing her explanation when lethargy swept through her, her legs buckling beneath her. “Sakura, Sakura. Wake up, Sakura.” Okaa-san’s visage loomed over her, willowy blonde hair draped over her shoulder.

She blinked, her mother’s image solidifying to a crisp still. “Your scores for the final arrived,” she said, smiling. “Come downstairs.” She twisted a lock of Sakura’s hair in her finger, before heading out the room.

Sakura shook off her blankets, frowning. She’d have the same amount of time whether she rose early or not, but fear still struck her. One morning left. She looked at the mirror before heading down the stairs, a tapestry of blue and violet upon her neck.

She raised the collar of her qipao, feeling an emotion towards Obito she never had before: anger.

“Ninety-four,” she greeted her mother.

By the table, Okaa-san held an open letter, effusing, “You got a hundred, Sakura-chan! Honestly, I probably should’ve waited for you, but I really wanted good news. Those two weeks of studying did some good. Well, to be fair, you always get the highest percentage.”

Sakura didn’t reply at first, a ludicrous urge to cry consuming her. “That makes me really happy,” she whispered.

“My daughter’s a genius. What else can I expect?” They embraced, warmth filling her to the bone.

“Where’s Otou-san?” asked Sakura. He wasn’t usually home at this time, and certainly not recently, but she wanted him there.

“Out. He’s in the process of moving.” Vitriol slipped into her tone. “While I have to sort out the mess he made.”

“Otou-san’s moving out?” repeated Sakura laconically.

“Yup.”

It was as good as a divorce then, where civilians murmured tarnations, and her peers claimed promiscuity.
She herself didn’t want Otou-san to leave. She wanted them together, blast shuffling house to house.

Everything was falling apart—everywhere. Suddenly, she was nearly as glad for the perfect score.

“I want to go on a walk. I’ll be back, Okaa-san.”

“Not even breakfast? Well, I used to exercise first thing in the morning. Come back soon.”

“Soon,” she lied.

As she stepped outside, Sakura cast thoughts of her family aside. She had to consider the Kyuubi Attack. Her heart hurt, but she’d rather it grind to dust.

She turned a corner—and perhaps distress had her negligent—for she bumped into someone, nearly losing her balance.

“Sorry,” she muttered, extending a hand to help him up. He wore a headband, the steel a polished glimmer; his dark eyes seeming to consume every minute expression she made. “I’m Shin,” he greeted, taking her hand.

“Hi, Shin.”

“It’s funny that we meet like this. I was just on my way to escort you to the Hokage Tower.”

Sakura started. “The Hokage Tower? Who would want me there, Shin-san?” The letter!

“I have my orders,” he replied amiably. “You’ll be in and out, I’m sure.”

Sakura bit her lip, glancing to the side. “Can I tell my Okaa-san first? I told her I was taking a walk.”

“I’ll tell her.”

When no retort came to mind, Sakura nodded, falling into place beside him. “This is all very sudden,” she said. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be kept long. She’d stick to her story, and be done with it—a mysterious figure had given it to her, before running off.

“I know this may concern you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to treat you as a flight risk. The contents inside the letter have greatly worried Hokage-sama. Until we clear you of suspicion, I’ll be shackling your wrists, and placing a blindfold on you.”

Sakura froze, gaping. “I’m not a terrorist," she exclaimed. “I told Hokage-sama already. All I did was give him the letter. I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“That’s lovely. Stay still now.”

Sakura never wanted to act against the law, but as his arms came around her, she flinched, pushing him back. “This really isn’t necessary. I’ll happily go with you without all of—“

He tackled her, viciously binding her hands, chafed cloth twisting them bare. She tried to scream, but he shoved his hand into her mouth, smoothly exchanging it with a gag, tying a second cloth around her eyes.

He lifted her, and she felt him jumping forward, dashing across the roofs. Was he really taking her to Hokage-sama? Did they really not trust her? In spite of herself, her eyes burned, and she was so tired of it.

She had the best scores in the Academy, followed every rule, heeded each instruction. She refused to believe it. He couldn’t be taking her to Hokage-sama. She was being kidnapped. That’s what this was.

She squirmed, but her efforts were about as effective as a flailing fish in a desert. If this wasn’t a Konoha shinobi, she thought, her breath hitching, then just who was he? More importantly, who was he taking her to?

He dropped down, landing with a silent furl. He seemed to be running, slowing only to a pace when a draft blew against her skin. Sakura had been inside enough of a cave to recognize when she was in one. She shivered.

It was both all too soon, and much too quickly, when Shin set her down, tearing her blindfold off. His hand rested heavy on her back, forcing her to kneel.

“Haruno Sakura,” came a man’s voice, and he stepped from the shadows, their ebony tendrils clinging to him, dripping from his arms, and legs, and midnight hair. A thump sounded from the floor, a wooden cane pressing against the ground.

“I know you,” Sakura whispered.

“Yes, they do teach me in your history books. What do they say? Nidaime-sama’s lesser apprentice, who failed the race to Hokage?” Shimura Danzo lifted his chin, haute and high, the bandages on his face glistening.

“You’ll find that I’m the breathing spine of this village. A stalwart shield. You’re a mystery, Sakura. One I’ll have much fun unraveling. Tell me, what do you know of the letter you gave Hiruzen?”

“Nothing,” she said, swallowing. Why did Danzo-sama have shinobi working for him? Did Sandaime-sama know? More quieter: Should she tell the truth? “All I know is that someone gave it to me, before running off.”

“You’re blatantly lying,” he spat, his brow tightening.

She took a moment to reply, and his cane came whipping across her face. The blow landed on her jaw, the impact hard enough to purple. “When I speak, reply.”

Sakura gasped, her fingers digging into the stone, eyes blown wide. “Hai, Danzo-sama.”

He assessed her. “Good. Shoto, bring me the letter.”

“Hai, Danzo-sama.” A figure approached him, bearing Sakura’s note.

He folded it open, reading aloud, “Mysterious entities called Zetsu’s pursue Konoha’s instability: White, formless creatures, capable of Mokuton. With them is Uchiha Madara. They see to the means of the Eye of the Moon Plan, something surely ignominious.

“Does that not remind you of anything?”

It did. She had written it, and Sakura didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn’t, she didn't, but she had her secrets, hadn’t even realized they became them, and feared to let them go.

Feared it more than Danzo’s cane. “I’ve never heard it before, Danzo-sama.”

His cane landed on the other side of her face, and her head thrust to the side. She cried out, her voice echoing. “Lie to me again, and I’ll see your nails torn off.”

“Why are you so curious?” she rasped, for the curiosity burned her. What did he know about Zetsu, or Madara?

She prepared for another blow, but he answered her question. “When you’ve been in my position, for as long as I have, you see the truth in scripture. I couldn’t tell you firsthand, but I had my doubts about Uchiha Madara’s death. This Eye of the Moon Plan… it reminds me of someone as well.”

He grabbed her chin, pulling her up. “So you can see how eager I am to have you share. But I’m a patient man. I think some time in solitary confinement will do you good. Todo, take her away, and heal her bruises.”

She was lifted up in ginger arms, and Sakura didn’t dare to protest. Her heart pounded. She had to sleep in solitary confinement in order to arrive before the Kyuubi Attack, but she still didn’t know what happened to her body when she dreamed.

She’d likely never escape if they found what she could do, especially when she was already under such suspicion.

But if she stayed awake, then the Kyuubi would attack Konoha. She knew it was a simple decision to make, but at that moment, each seemed a deathly trapeze to cross.

The med-nin unlocked the rattling bars of a cellar. Frigid, and damp, it made an inhospitable stay. “Sit,” he commanded. She obeyed.

Cool hands slid along her face, radiating a virescent glow. Medical ninjutsu—and how she would’ve marveled. “A kindness,” he whispered. “You’ll be here for a very long time.” She didn’t quite know what he was doing, until sleep overtook her.

When Sakura next opened her eyes, it was by the streets of Konoha, and Todo was left alone.