Chapter Text
Sakura didn't consider herself either brave or independent. Yes, she was smart. But how could she compare to Shikamaru? He was a born genius, and he didn't need to spend hours in the library, like she did, to learn all the rules and regulations.
Or take Ino; she had no trouble making friends. She made friends easily and had a knack for putting both herself and others at ease, and she used that with remarkable skill. Sakura herself seemed very serious. What do they say? She's still awkward, how did she even manage to make friends, even with Ino?
She doesn't possess the exceptional physical strength of Kiba, nor could she become a formidable taijutsu fighter like Sasuke or even Naruto. No matter how hard she tried, her body always remained fragile, and her performance was only slightly above average.
Sakura doesn't belong to any known clan. Unlike her peers, she didn't have a unique source of wealth or a powerful presence. She was born into an ordinary family. Her father was a tea merchant, her mother a housewife who once worked as a model with a modest income.
Sakura, no warrior, would never become a shinobi. Her dreams were simple and safe: to grow up, to continue her father's work, to build a nice, cozy home, to read books, perhaps to marry someday, have children, and to grow old somewhere.
But she had no choice.
In this world, anyone with even a modicum of chakra expected to enroll in the academy and learn to kill. There was no other way. That was the way it was done everywhere.
She remembered well how, at two years old, her parents first told her she would be a ninja. She'd been so happy back then that she cried: whoever it was, ninjas were powerful, beautiful warriors, admired throughout the world… Until one day, she had a dream in which she saw herself die, feeling every pain, every despair… And only then did she understand that ninjas weren't heroes, but weapons of death, and that the same fate awaited her.
And with that, the future she had dreamed of vanished.
The parents rejoiced. For them, it was a source of immense pride—proud that their daughter would become a kunoichi, serve the village, and protect it. Perhaps they even hoped that if she died, it would be a heroic death, fighting for the Will of Fire.
But Sakura saw things differently. She didn't want to become a hero, nor a famous shinobi, lest she put her life in constant danger. On the contrary, in the face of this cruel world, she felt weak, cowardly, unprepared for battles in which even children perished.
But there was no choice. Either grow stronger, or die. And deep down, Sakura desperately wanted to just... live. Survive, that was all she could do. She didn't possess any secret techniques or unique abilities, like those bestowed upon the clan's children. Her only virtue was her ability to read and memorize. It was too little, too little, to feel original. Even with the best grades in class, even when the teacher praised her, she always felt inferior tothose born into clans, inferior to that idiot Naruto.
In this world, if you don't belong to a clan, you're just cannon fodder.
And yet, she was lucky, chosen for Team 7. With her were Sasuke Uchiha, the last of his clan, and Naruto Uzumaki, a foolish boy, but still the last of his kind. Sakura knew the village would protect them… So she was glad she wouldn't die on her first missions.
But everything changed on their first major mission. While it was supposed to be a C-rank mission on paper, it actually turned into an A-rank nightmare. They found themselves on the brink of death, completely unprepared for such danger. Their mentor, Kakashi-sensei, engaged Zabuza Momochi himself, one of the legendary Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. While Sasuke and Naruto fought with their last strength against his student, Sakura was given the simplest of tasks—to guard the old master bridge builder.
- Sakura, down!!!
A loud scream suddenly snapped her out of her confusion. Without thinking, she fell to the ground, and at that very moment, a huge shuriken exploded with a deafening roar where she had just been standing. Everything inside her clenched.
Someone grabbed Sakura roughly by the collar and jerked her upright, barely managing to keep her balance. Her ears were ringing, her heart was pounding dully in her throat, her fingers were shaking, and a cold trickle of sweat was running down her back.
Fear gripped her chest like a steel grip, making it difficult to breathe.
"Help, Sasuke!" Kakashi-sensei's voice rang out through the noise of fear.
He continues to press hard against the Mist ninja's onslaught, furiously twisting the seal and summoning the allegiance of the water dragon behind him.
Sakura was picked up and thrown straight into the front line alongside Sasuke. For a split second, everything around her froze; she distinctly felt her heart pounding wildly.
She had barely touched the ground when she saw Haku hurtling across it at breakneck speed. A kunai gleamed in his hand. Fragments of memories flashed through her: familiar faces, book dust, dreams of a quiet life... that was all. Everything inside her stopped and froze.
Sakura realized she couldn't dodge or parry the blow. Time slowed for her. And every cell in her body screamed with desperate fear.
No! She doesn't want to die! She has to fight… She wants to live… She has to live, please.
And then, deafening pain. Her body instantly felt strange, everything narrowed into a black, constricting fog.
No... please... too early...
***
The beginning of memories...
Several years ago
The atmosphere enveloped me in a thick darkness, plunging me into an abyss where there was no light, only stillness, a deathly silence. But despite this, I wasn't afraid. On the contrary, I felt a strange warmth, a pleasant softness.
I don't know how it happened, but I wasn't alone. There were always other selves within us, fragments of my personality scattered across the landscape. I didn't know exactly how it happened, but the fragments of my personality were separated. They were indistinguishable, they existed.
I knew I existed. Sometimes I could see pictures, bags, pieces of life that made up one of the parts of me that I called "the outside." She was special, the one who could control herself, the one we were stuck in. From time to time, I heard her voice, felt her touch, because I could provide her sensations.
I wasn't the only one who heard her. But I was the only one who understood her whispers, her thoughts. The other fragments were blind to this interaction, their world limited by its own darkness.
Ah, I knew I existed because I heard a voice. And that voice was my only link to reality.
But now something strange is happening. A noise appeared, like someone moving in the depths of the abyss, and I began to sense them—those fragments I had once overlooked and ignored. Now I could hear their voices, sense their emotions.
They shout that they don’t want to die. That they want to live.
I hear their screams, moans, pleas for salvation. And I begin to feel myself solving this problem. I'm scared. The environment, which was warm, has become cold and unpleasant, it has begun to erase me.
But I don't want to disappear. I want to live ...
Suddenly, a memorable light lit up the darkness. It cut through the gloom like thousands of candles lit in the night. This light was warm, powerful, and it beckoned me to it.
And at that moment, I realized I had to turn off the agreement on this light. Don't stay in the shadows.
And I came into contact with the light, and an incredible sensation of pain overwhelmed me, as if thousands of electrical discharges and pierced every cell of my consciousness. But at the same time, I felt myself exploring waves of energy, a flow that penetrated me with such speed that it seemed the entire universe was moving around me.
End of memories…