Chapter Text
There was something so typical, so menial, and so uninteresting about High School for Sakura. Education was something she valued very highly; yet it never seemed to find the same merit in her. She remembered a time - one which felt so long ago - when she was a freshman. Sitting on the gym bleachers in a lumpy, magenta sweater which clashed with her soft pink mane, being told that she’d only get out as much as she put into her studies. That effort paid off, and that she’d regret spending her adolescent years out drinking, smoking cannabis, or, god forbid, fornicating. This was a fact she accepted as true. Partially because none of those things appealed to her, but also because she dreamed of a grandiose life: one completely unrelated to any such preposterous concepts.
And so, Sakura pushed away those who suggested she lived a little. She never stole her parents’ alcohol, she never took a hit of anything, she avoided sex like the plague. She lived like bacteria. Unimportant, meagre, and asexual. The one thing she did engage in was endless studying with the only grounded person she knew: Tenten. The two were a mostly disregarded pair, ones who slipped under the radar unless the target of mockery. They preferred it that way.
Though, somewhere, deep in that pragmatic soul, that polished heart, there lied a burning desire. A desire to break conformed academia. One of the reasons why she - often needlessly - forged signatures or handwritings. To be the girl who acts on impulse, who enthrals those which surround her, who isn’t bothered for the crime of life. A status reminiscent to that of Hinata Hyuuga and Temari. Perhaps, even deeper in that desire, there lied a smaller whim to be the girl who dictated. Who trampled anyone beneath her heel. Who held an almost autocratic position. A girl like Ino Yamanaka.
Hinata Hyuuga was reclusive and shy in a way that made most wonder how she was even associated with her two brash companions.
Then they might be reminded of her parents’ decent wealth obtained under abnormal and presumably exploitative circumstances, and in succession say to themself: “Well, I suppose it adds up.”
With an indigo hue to her locks and gentle eyes, she sidled along corridors despite her popularity. To those below her in the hierarchy, it came across as ungrateful. How could a girl so very free of judgement still fear it deeply in her heart? It was such a privileged position that she didn’t seem to treat with as much dignity as so many others would, and while it didn’t necessarily affect her reputation, it did stay on the minds of those who she was surrounded by. Her yellow blazer was adorned with a heart shaped pin and was quite often unbuttoned. Aside from that, her blouse was buttoned up all the way to the top and tucked into her plain, dark skirt contrasted jarringly with the off white tights, the same colour as her white kitten heels.
Temari joined halfway through Sophomore year, having arrived from an entirely different state which bordered Konohagakure known as Sunagakure. Unlike Hinata, she behaved as if she knew who she was, where she was, and exactly what she wanted. Temari was sharp-tongued and straightforward yet deeply insecure in a way that only popped out at you when analysing the bitterness her tone held. Dirty blonde with her hair tied into two poofy ponytails via green scrunchies, there was no doubt of the pride she took in her appearance. She tied her complexion and hair together with the similarly matched uniform. Typically, she wore a deep green padded blazer atop her fitted blouse, and below both a grey, plaid skirt. Her flats had a slight sheen to them: black and complimented by a diagonal gingham patterned pair of olive socks. Head of the Yearbook Committee, she held the role with pride, strength and with the control she sought.
And then there was Ino Yamanaka. What words could possibly describe Ino Yamanaka?
I can think of two that when pieced together sum her up quite succinctly:
Mythic Bitch.
Sauntering through the world like she has any ownership over it; completely superficial in a way that cannot be exaggerated. Her tresses were a pale blonde but her eyelashes were dark and thick, dynamic, though she got the look through a lot of layered mascara. Beloved in a twisted way; the way you might lick a deranged man’s boot in hopes he doesn’t bash your skull with it. She’d been treated with that sort of attitude since she was a young, spoiled kid. Only child to incompetent and affluent parents, as were most of her fellow classmates, they didn’t know what to do but give in to her every whim, hoping they too would escape her wrath in doing it. She dressed in a signature red skirt and a madras patterned grey jacket with high shoulder pads; though her outfits did alternate just as the others did. Jewellery around her neck or fingers or wrists were often present, so too were higher heels than the other two, giving her a substantial lift over them. Although, as if that was bizarrely not enough, a crimson scrunchie held her hair at the top of her head, solidifying her statures. She was the almighty. A deity among school districts. Incredibly difficult to please. Practically impossible to get along with too, unless you were serviceable enough and willing to be subordinate.
Yet - knowing most of this - Sakura still chose to listen to those urges. She still chose to count her dimes and see if they could buy her a new life.
Even if she knew its potential was catastrophic.
Because, in the bathroom she happened to enter on the fateful first day of school, the three most reputable people in the entire school were gathered. Skipping class, to the surprise of no one.
Ino leaned over the counter to fix her makeup.
Hinata lumbered in place by a bathroom stall.
In that stall, Temari could be heard throwing up.
“Hinata,” as soon as Ino called her name, the timid girl perked up. “Y’know that YSL lipstick you keep in your pocket?”
“Oh…this?” She replied, sotto voce, as she fumbled in her jacket pocket before presenting the golden-cased lip rouge.
“Yes. That.” Ino watched her palm through the stained mirror, pupils locked upon it and mesmerised.
The silence that followed was fleeting, as the now tightly strung Hyuuga gained the courage to continue the conversation. “…What about it?”
“Do you mind if I borrow it?” Ino spoke the rejoinder with jarring speed, and it became aquatinted with the faint sound of Temari’s vomiting.
“I-…” hesitated Hinata. She knew the likelihood of getting something back which Ino Yamanaka had used was null; that lipstick was valuable, which made it desirable for someone with avarice. Yet often, when asked to hand over things, Hinata would do it. As though her mind itself was infiltrated by her commander’s will. Ino was beginning to very lightly tread nearer and seeing this, Hinata gave in. “I suppose…if you want.”
“Good!” She snapped back, concurrently snatching the product from Hinata without as much as a thank you, gliding back to her place in front of the reflective surface, until the bathroom door flung open fast enough that it almost sent Sakura - who’d be stood a few inches to the left of it - flying.
“Ah, Ino and Hinata.” Came the bitterly calm voice of Ms Senju, now stood in the doorway to the bathroom with an eerily straight posture. As she spoke, the wretched noise of puke could be heard, signifying the presence of the group’s third. “…And Temari.”
Ms Senju glanced at both girls, when her honey brown eyes met Hinata, the hermit simply shot her eyes down in shame, and when they soared to Ino, she was greeted with a defiant glare. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting? You’re late to class.” Ms Senju continued, crossing her arms in irritation.
Ino gave a blatantly deceptive simper. “Temari wasn’t feeling very well.” Her eyebrows turned down in false sympathy. “We’re helping her.” The emphasis on helping aimed to guilt the teacher.
Contrary to that, Ms Senju’s laughter came with slight hysterics, her eyebrows furrowing. “Not without a hall pass you’re not. Week’s detention!”
Sakura, previously a quiet observer, wearily spoke up to present her makeshift pitch for popularity. “Um, actually, Ms Senju, all four of us are out on a hall pass…Yearbook Committee.” Haruno, with shaking hands turned the card around. On it was a perfect imitation of Mr Umino’s script, the staff leader of the Yearbook Committee. Identical down to the last stroke, of course, allowing the girls time out of the club. Unbeknownst to Tsunade Senju, only one of four pupils in the room at that moment even belonged to the delegation. And she was still throwing up.
Ms Senju believed Sakura. The girl was her favourite and most decorated student, ergo she pushed down her skepticism. “…I see you’re all listed.” The older woman scanned Haruno with almost betrayal at her newfound association with such notoriously scheming students. ”Hurry up and get where you’re going.” With that, she turned around and click clacked her slingback heels down the corridor.
Ino perched over the faulty hall pass, fascinated. Seizing it, she checking it over. “This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?”
Startled, the girl replied without thinking. “Uh, Sakura. Haruno. I crave a boon.”
Ino scoffed. “What boon?” Her tone shoved Sakura out of her dazed state, engaging her mind once more.
Jumping from her gnawing guilt, she began a faltering monologue. “Um…let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once, no talking necessary. If people think that you tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone.” Temari, having overheard all of this, now left the stall to join her two friends of utility, beginning to giggle with Ino at Sakura’s naivety, Hinata following suit. “Before you answer I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes.” Ino perks at that and the others have their own reserved thoughts of self-betterment.
“How about prescriptions?” Temari inquired with authentic curiosity.
“Shut up Temari.” Barked back Ino.
“Sorry, Ino.” Temari’s timbre made the apology sound almost like a retort.
Ino’s attention returned to Sakura, immediately noting all the flaws and vantage points of her face, particularly the bangs which were pathetically trying to hide her large forehead. “For a billboard-browed nobody…you do have good bone structure.”
Hyuuga felt an overwhelming urge to add to this. “And a symmetrical face…if I took a meat cleaver down the centre of your skull, I’d have matching halves.” Hinata retreated back into her small voice upon realising she’d been too outward. “…That’s very important...”
“Of course you could stand to lose a few pounds.” Temari remarked with acrimony, though it went unnoticed.
Ino’s eyes were now fully squared in on Sakura, prodding at her complexion and twisting her chin around. “I think we could make this work. A little makeup to accentuate your eyes here and there…A push-up bra for that flat chest of yours…Then we can get rid of the disgusting fringe, and you’ll be a suitable addition. How’s that?”
There was no going back from this.
Firstly, because her appearance would never be the same. No more of her fringe? She felt it did an adequate job hiding her insecurity. Perhaps it did only bring attention to it.
And secondly, because life with worshipped people like those three? Hell, life as one of them? It was a radically different plane of existence. She wasn’t even sure they’d want her to sit with them once, let alone…permanently. The Goddess Kaguya was finally granting Sakura’s dearest wish. Perhaps miracles were real. Perhaps she wasn’t as cruel as scripture made her out to be if she was giving Sakura something so life-changing. Finally, after gleeful contemplation of what lay ahead, she answered.
“Okay!”