So tell me if its now or never (cause with you I see forever)

by the_oh_so_wonderful_me

Summary:

"what will you do when they find out what you are to them ?"

"I will drop to my knees and beg for the opportunity to make up for every night they had to sleep without me, when all they wanted was for me to be there. I will beg for the chance to kiss them just once. To hold them how they wanted to be held, to put them back together again. I will beg for the privilege of their love. I don't deserve it. But I want it anyway. I'm so, so selfish. I don't deserve them, I've done too much. I've hurt too many people, my hands will stain them. But I want them anyway. "

*****************

‌"I was made for them, perhaps as some cruel joke from whatever power exists in this godforsaken universe. But I was made for them. They were woven into my bones, painted across my soul in a myriad of water colours, they were carved into my very existence. They do not want me, but I am made of them, made for them. I exist for them, I have nothing and no one. They are all I have left in this world. Please, please don't take them from me”

Chapter 1: chapter 1 - the curtain closes of the final act

 

It was not the initial collision that hurt the most. Nor was it the shattering of the passenger window, the glass cutting into the delicate skin of her neck. It was the impact of the forced expansion of the air bag.

It exploded into her face, it was like being slapped by the biggest, driest fish you can think of.

The impact of the car ramming into the passenger side sent the car rolling across the road. Forcing the body in the front passenger seat sideways, her head snapping to the side, no head rest there to catch her. 

Nothing there to stop her skull from cracking upon colliding with the steering wheel.  Nothing to stop the life blood from dripping from her head, from her neck, from her veins . 

 

The air bag wasn’t enough to save her. (too stop the blood .. so much blood)

 

 It never would have been. (it never could have been)

 

She bore the brunt of the impact, glass flying across the interior of the taxi. The driver was flung around like a puppet with its strings cut - but managed to survive. His air bag inflating and pushing him backwards, holding him in place when the car began to roll, Saving his life. 

 

It did not save hers.  (it never would have)

 

 A drunk driver was not the way she was meant to go. (yes, it was )

 

 She was meant to marry a pharmacist. A nice man, average in appearance, but kind. She was meant to wear a modest yet beautiful dress, and stun her husband to tears. He would love her dearly. She would love him well. But he was not her person. He was still hers, but he wasn't it .  (He never would have been, she was theirs )

 

She was meant to finish her medical degree, topping her class.(much to the perplexity of those around her - they were aware of her copious alcohol consumption)  She was meant to go on to become one of the top neurosurgeons in the country - something she would boast about exuberantly whenever alcohol entered the equation - which it often did. She had many virtues but modesty was not one of them. Neither was sobriety.  (Neither was mercy)

 

She was meant to have two children, a boy and a girl. Dylan and Delilah. No it wasn't on purpose.  She would have moved mountains for them, they were her everything. But god forbid they touched her chocolate, that was unacceptable. They could have anything they wanted, but not her chocolate. She imported that shit - brazilian 90% coco dark chocolate. It was heavenly. 

 

All in all, she was meant to live . She was meant to do good . She was meant to make change for millions of people. (but not these people)

 

She was meant to advance the field of neurology by leaps and bounds. She was meant to invent a device that could aid in the transmission of nerve signals in the spinal cord of paralysis patients, helping them to move again . She was meant to help restore the sight of a little girl who would one day go on to cure cancer - inspired by the dedication of her medical team.  She was meant to be the cause of a medical revolution. 

But she wasn't. And she will never get too.  All because some idiot thought driving a ford fiesta at two in the morning — down country roads — when pissed out of his mind, was clever. (He was the catalyst, his fate set)

 

Men, honestly. 

 

Her taxi was rolling, end over end. The screeching of metal against tarmac left her ears ringing. Smoke burned her lungs. The heat radiating from the smoldering engine made her eyes water leaving her vision blurred. Battered, bruised and bleeding, the soul taken too soon had one final thought. ‘ Oh no I didn't get to finish the final arc of Naruto’  

In case you haven't gathered, she hadn't quite grasped the reality of her situation. Who thinks of unfinished anime when they're bleeding out ? It must be the shock setting in…or the blood loss. Maybe both…it must be both.

 

 (or may it was something else )

  

The car came to rest at the edge of the road - a country lane out in the middle of Gloucester, on the outskirts of a town no one would remember the name of when the news article came out. There was a billow of grey smoke pluming from the engine . Rising higher and higher into the air.

 

Forming a myriad of shapes - both beautiful and morbid, a wispy eagle soaring into the night sky, and a distorted face, growing more grotesque as it rose higher and higher still. The last shape she took notice of was a spiralling smoky leaf,  tendrils of smoke curling into each other. But strangely, it never blurred. The wind did not affect it - it was mesmerising.  The one thing in her view that remained unchanged.  (everything was about to change)

 

Finally it was quiet. The ringing slowly faded from her ears. Black began to creep into the corners of her vision, her eyes continued to water.  

 

The pool of blood below her head continued to grow - if she tried hard enough she could probably see her face in it. It is a very unnerving experience, seeing your own broken face in a pool of your blood. Would not recommend. (she will see it again).

 

A ghostly figure was slowly approaching the upturned car, a scythe in hand. He wasn't quite transparent, but also wasn't quite solid. Blurring between the real world of the living, and the intangible world of the dead. His ragged cloak dragged in the dirt and the spilled burning petro- yet wasn't stained, no blood spattered the hem, no dirt marred his shoes. 

 

A very intimidating picture quite honestly. But as previously mentioned, the dying dumbass in the car hadn't quite grasped the reality of her situation yet. That she was, well, dying .  (that she was finally going to live)

 

‘A dark robed man ? really ? death really can't be that cliche.’  oh, she is an idiot.  

 

“That's not very nice-” oh my god ... .was he pouting. …He was. “How do you think the idea of a dark robed man started ? it was not from your books ! I mean, one or two of you got it right. But ,most of them were just wrong !” Death shook his head sadly, piercing eyes gazing down at the prone figure before him  

“you humans had the silliest ideas of what I looked like, honestly. Fate kept laughing at me. She’s nowhere near as nice as you lot think she is”

  (yes she is…she was taking her too them )

 

what … the fuck. His voice was nice, smooth. Like fresh leather and cigar smoke. Not that cigar smoke gave you a nice voice, but you get the picture. His voice was wealthy. If she’d met him previously she’d have assumed he was a mafia boss. He was imposing, not physically large. But he had the air of grace that came with knowing that you have power, and knowing how to use it.  

 

(one day she will too)

 

 “Some idiot thought I used a combine harvester! as if i'd be that lazy! No respect these days. Reaping is a dying art you know-.”  Death was a dork ….. “Some reapers don’t even attend deaths anymore you know ! no respect for the profession” 

“What?” Her tone was blank, not out of grief or fear. But sheer, utter bafflement.

 What was going on? .  

She tried to raise her hand to brush a piece of damp hair from her eyes…only she couldn't.

 Her hands weren't working. 

She couldn't move. She couldn't move. 

That's not good. Her breaths became shorter, more rapid.  She couldn't breathe .  (It has begun)

 

What was going on? 

 

“I know! The audacity of some deities. Anyway, we’ve gone off track. You're dead. In case you hadn't realised, and now it's time to make a decision-” what…? She blinked, slowly. Like a confused cat. It was very endearing. 

 

(She couldn't move.)

 

“My sister likes you, she says you died too soon. I disagree, but I digress. She would like to offer you the opportunity to try again”

“Try again ?-” her voice was uncertain, reality was beginning to set in. “ I’m dead ... holy shit… that ..THAT ASSHOLE”  She would be devastated later.  

 

Later she would cry, later she would scream, later she would mourn the family she would leave behind. But for now, she was angry. For now, she wouldn't think of the little brother she was leaving behind. The single mother she left to raise him with her lone source of income. For now, she wouldn't think of her best friends who would mourn her. For now, she was angry. 

 

(She couldn't move.)

 

“Yes, yes. We’ve covered that already. Now, you're choice-” Death was also … a bit of an asshole. “My sister would like to give you another chance, a new life as it were. She wants to let you go and start again in this universe, but I think that'll be rather boring. So I'm sending you somewhere else. The reaper over there owes me a favour anyway, so she'll let it slide” 

What the actual fuck ?????

“I'm sorry, What?” 

(She couldn't move.)

“I'm sending you to a new universe. Well when I say you, I mean your memories, your consciousness. It will fuse with the mind of whoever we send you to, I don't really know how it will impact you, but well see won't we ? anyway, back on track. where were we ? new universe?, right... They do things slightly differently over there. Death isn't as … linear. They have ninja! If it makes you feel any better, I think you may know them already. They have more Demon’s than this universe, more God's as well I believe. You should do well over there. They have interesting healing methods I think you'll like” 

This sounds suspiciously like Naruto ….oh god. She’d die straight away. 

(She couldn't move.)

“Do not worry, we’ll give you someone important. Maybe I’ll send you that one .. hmmmm-” his gaze was contemplative, “my sister sees something special in you. She says you have the potential to be great. So I shall send you somewhere you can be” 

His gaze softened into something close to pity “Unfortunately I don't have the power to take your memories, so in the beginning you’ll remember everything. But the timeline won't let you remember. It will interfere with that universe's Fate. so your memories of this world will fade over time” he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and began to guide her forwards, away from her body. A pinprick of light appeared, and steadily began to expand. 

(She couldn't move.)

“I can, however, grant you a limited view of the timeline. My sister wishes you to be great, and I shall ensure that you have the resources that you need in order to be” 

“Do I not get a choice in this? What if I don't want to b-”

“You will be. It is your fate. It has been decided”  His tone was gentle, but there was steel in his voice. There was no choice. 

“Okay. let's do this then” her voice was high, bordering on hysterical.  

(She couldn't breathe.)

“You will be fine, child. You will do great things, the girl you are replacing has lived well in other universes. And you shall do what she did in those universes. And what you would have done in this one. “

 

The light was getting bigger, spreading across the road. 

It was beautiful, a kaleidoscope of colours twisting together in an ephemeral waltz. Simultaneously possessing the ageless beauty of the ocean, and the doomed beauty of a spring blossom.  ‘sakuras ‘ the woman thought. ‘It reminds me of sakuras. ‘

 How ironic. 

(She couldn't breathe.)

 Death guided her towards the multitude of swirling colours. Pausing before it, hands resting on her shoulders he leaned down to be at eye level with her. “You shall be given the name Sakura. You shall live as she did. Do as she has done. But you will always be you. Live as you wish to. Let your instinct guide you, and don't be trapped by the narrative you remember. Many tragedies can be prevented, and many lives saved.” 

As he continued on, his voice grew quieter, but he never wavered. He was gentle, always gentle. With a gentle push Death propelled her into the light. 

(She couldn't breathe.)

“Live well. Farewell, Sakura”

And with that, she was gone

And with that, she died. 

And with that, this life came to an end. 

And with that, the curtains close, and a new tale begins. 

The one that was always meant to be told.  (at last)

 

Chapter 2: chapter two - we're all waiting on someone

Summary:

nah, read it to find out.

 

“Live well. Farewell, Sakura”

And with that, she was gone. 

 

     ~     ~     ~     ~

It was like being hit by a truck. The force of her memories appearing in a new brain. It was a weird sensation - like being dropped into a vat of half frozen jelly. 

Or eyeball goop. It was very similar to being forced to shove her brain inside a bowl of cold eyeball goop- like the left overs of her dissections when they were studying the structure of the eye. 

New memories merging with old ones. Memories of her knowledge of the plot line meshing with her new lived experiences. Her old knowledge of this new world's politics and history, flooded with genuine, true facts (not just fanfiction speculation). 

And sadly, it was not true that Tobirama and Madara were lovers. Despite how badly she wished it were. 

 

Time to get back to reality. Where was she ? 

 

Jade eyes fluttered open. The light was blinding - why were the lights so bright? 

Who left the curtains open ? 

 A rather undignified groan left her lips. She tried again, this time the light wasn't so unbearable. 

Sakura slowly raised her head, peering around the room. Gaze hazy, eyes still clouded over by sleep, she took everything in. A pale hand rubbed sleep from her eyes,  before pushing pink locks out of her face, away from her eyes. Allowing a better view of the room around her. 

 

Wait. she could move her hands. (she could breathe )

 

Her mind was racing, thoughts speeding through her head a mile a minute. But steadily growing slower as exhaustion weighed her down, reincarnation was tiring. 

 ‘Who knew being pulled through space and time was so much effort? never would have guessed’ her sarcasm was palpable. ‘He couldn't have warned me?’

 

‘Hello, who are you?’  a voice eerily similar to her own echoed through her mind. The voice was young, curious. A background thought in a mash-up of new and old voices. 

‘That's not me’  her brain was disorganised, words ricocheting around her head like ping pong balls in a cement mixer. Nothing would stay still long enough to allow her to examine it properly.

 

 Her old mothers face, broken with grief at the loss of her daughter. ‘no , no please. Oh god’ 

 

Then the next minute her new mothers face. Imperious and judgemental, telling her that ‘no man will want you if you keep eating like that’.  

 

Faces old and new smooshed together. Until only new faces remained. Old ones fading quickly from her consciousness. 

 

Finally it was quiet.

 

‘I’m inner. Who are you ?’  The voice was curious, but there was an underlying hostility to the words. 

‘I… guess, I’m Sakura’   

‘No, you’re not. Where's Sakura?’  The voice was calm, collected, unlike her own. The hostility was still there, but tamed into something controlled. A predator waiting to pounce. 

 ‘ I have to be-’ she thought bitterly ‘ I was given no choice’ 

‘How interesting-’ the voice drawled , knowing, somewhat cruel. ‘ You do not know where you are. You do not know who you are. I can feel your memories. But I can not see them the same way. How curious. Where are you from?’

 

There was an innocent malevolence to the voice. It was attempting to be threatening, but still had a childish tilt to its speech, an innocent curiosity. 

 

‘ I've been led to believe I'm from another universe? But i honestly couldn't tell you what in the flying fuck knuckles is going on’  it came out more aggressive than intended, her voice too strong, even to her own ears. 

 

She spoke again, this time her voice gentle ‘ can you help me? I don't know anything about this world beyond what I’ve read’

 

‘Of course I'll help you. I am you, silly.’ The hostility had completely vanished from the voice, only curiosity remained. The steady assurance the voice gave her was startling. Sakura never thought she would find such comfort from a child - herself, but a child none the less. 

 

“Thank you-”her voice was hoarse. She’d spoken aloud. “ Do you have a name?” 

‘ I am inner.’ 

“ That's not a name, do you not have a name?” 

 

‘ You may call me inner, it is what Sakura called me, and is what you shall call me. I am not separate from you, I am your inner self. So you will call me inner ’  inner left no room to argue, her voice had grown louder. Sakura softened her tone, almost as if handling a scared animal. 

 

“ Of course, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. Where are we Inner ?” Sakura asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the old Sakura. 

‘ We are home. This is our room. You may want to get up soon, we have the academy today’

Shit. Sakura knew fuck all about the ‘ninja arts’.

 

 Fuck. 

 

‘I’m screwed’ 

 

***

She wasn't screwed !

 

 Thank whatever deities inhabit this world for the wonders of muscle memory. ‘I knew this girl was clever but holy shit’ the world felt clearer, her mind felt faster. She’d been intelligent, before. You don’t get into medical school without having a brain.  But the speed of processing in this world was something else. It was probably the chakra. 

 

Most definitely the chakra.

 

No wonder there were so many child prodigies - if this was what the world was like for kids like Itachi, no  wonder they were so …. Fucked up.  No child's brain should be like this. It was ….scary. 

 

It wasn't the chakra that bothered her. It wasn't even the child soldiers, well, it was the child soldiers, but not entirely the child soldiers. It was how the adults interacted with the children. Especially the ninja children. 

 

Treating them like baby adults, expecting them to be able to process information at a speed that many adults from her previous life would have struggled with. It was disconcerting. 

 

Six year olds articulating better than half of her course mates, twelve year olds with higher body counts than some war veterans. 15 year old medics with more blood on their hands than most surgeons.

 

It was as horrifying as it was fascinating.  

 

Hey, at least they were well paid. 

 

These soldiers and their fucked up teachers and their fucked up government …. Not a government. There was no diplomacy here. It was a military dictatorship. It was permanent martial law. 

At least there was less faff…. Most of the time. 

 

Sure, the ninja's attitudes were messed up.  But the civilians? 

 

The civilians were worse. Both in how they were treated, and how they treated others. 

 

The village treated them like thoughtless children. They were merely there for the income, and the craft. Civilians did not have a place in a ninja village, despite the fact that they were necessary.

 

 They got in the way. They attempted to apply morals to a career that existed in shades of grey. They tried to apply naivety to children who had seen war. They tried to apply their innocence to the corruption of a military state. It did not work. There was a disconnect between the ninja and the civilians of Konoha. 

 

Sakura had seen the sneers and jibes thrown at their defenders as they walked by, being judged for their chosen profession (some did not get a choice). They were judged for taking life. For the violence. Despite the fact that it was the violence that allowed the civilians to live in peace. The dichotomy of the role of a shinobi, forgotten. That for every life they took - lives were protected. 

 

Ninja were either feared or revered within Konoha. There was no inbetween. Their power left people in awe. But it also left them afraid. It left her mother afraid. 

Mebuki did not want her daughter in the academy. She did not want her daughter near kunai. She did not want her daughter near ninja or chakra. 

 

But it was there. The chakra. It was always there. 

It was sitting on the edges of her mind. Always on the edges, never quite close enough to grasp. Kind of like a scared cat. . . it knew. It knew she wasn't the original Sakura and was sniffing her out… it was almost alive. Fluttered around her, always just out of reach, but drawing closer and closer every day as her control grew.  

 

The days flew by as Sakura slowly began to familiarise herself with her new world, her new life, her new friends and her new family. She learned about 

her new world's history, its politics, the people, the food. She learned and she grew. She learned about the hokages, she learned about the shinobi wars, she learned about the sanin. Most of which she already knew, but there were minute differences, who started what war, who landed what blow. Then there were the more glaring differences- but those were a problem for future Sakura. 

 

 The memories of her past loved ones began to fade - still there but not so present. Their faces were blurry, merging together into some contorted distortion of her loved ones. Something was obscuring her memories of her previous world - it started slowly: a name or a date. 

 

But soon enough it was faces, memories, voices. It was the voices that bothered her the most. It was  not being able to remember her little brother's laugh, her mothers sarcastic exhalations, her friends' drunken shenanigans. But if she didn't remember them how could she mourn them ?  She had no one to mourn. In this life she had lost no one. It was a mercy as much as it was a cruelty. 

 

Sakura had a mother. Sakura had a father.  So there was no need for the memories of ones that had never existed.  As she lost the memories - she lost the grief. Over the days and weeks that followed, as the memories faded so did her mourning. Sakura had accepted her new reality. It was either that, or dying. 

 

Some may think her cruel for her pragmatism, but there is only so much grief that the human mind can manage.

 ‘Sakura’ had been torn away from not only everyone she loved, but her entier world. Everything she had ever known was gone. She was alone. 

 

Some things shatter, and some things bloom. 

 

And Sakura refused to shatter. 

 

***

As weeks passed, Sakura realised that this was not the Naruto-verse that she had thought it was. Well it was, but it also wasn't. Minute differences. Fluctuations in behavior and relationships that hadn't existed in the original time line. 

 

Then there was the glaringly obvious difference - the tattoos. Everyone had one; each one different. Intricate trails of ink and colours that traced over peoples skin. Each mark is symbolic of someone's fated. Fated what ? Well, that was the major difference. 

 

This universe had soulmates, and wasn't that the most lovely thing ever, because yes ! Sakura had always wanted a soulmate (it was her absolute favorite fan fiction trope, it is always *chefs kiss), someone who would love her unconditionally.

 Someone who would put her fist no matter what, who would love her despite her flaws. Who would look at her and love her, someone whose arms she was already home sick for. A soul she had yet to meet. 

 

Some people had one, some had two, though it was rare, there was only one recorded soulmate triad within Konoha. That being the sannin. And weren't they a tale of tragedy, the alcohol addicted haemophobic medic who vowed to never set foot in the village again, the perverted spy master who could rarely bring himself home, and the traitor obsessed with immortality. So obsessed with evading death that he began experimenting on children.

 

 Soulmates may be your fated, but there was no guarantee of love in a world such as this. In a world of child soldiers, there is no room for optimism. 

 

Imagine that. In a world of hired killers and child soldiers, something as delicate as soulmates existed.

 It was the perfect fan fiction in the making. Meeting on a crowded street ... .no, on a battlefield. Meeting on a field of blood, staring across at each other from opposite sides of a war. Marks burning as your eyes meet. Dropping your weapons and slowly approaching each other…… ending in a kiss. How lovely.  That was how the films went anyway. The public did like to romanticise ninjas. 

 

It rarely ended well.

 

The marks showed up on your thirteenth birthday, no one knew how or why. But the story was that it was a gift from the sage of six paths to his sons. But they didn't live long enough to find their fated, so, in his grief soulmarks were   granted to any who had been granted the gift of chakra. 

 

Many civilians had them - ink swirling across unmarred skin. Destined for chakra manipulators and child soldiers . Many refused to pursue them however. So many chakra users never came home. So many child soldiers dying too young, never knowing their soulmate. Their mark turning grey - fading into an echo of what was once something beautiful. Just as life faded from the eyes of their soulmate - life faded from the mark. 

 

It was why fated pairs were discouraged from working together. The loss could drive you insane. And it had. There were plenty of stories of how one half of a pair saw the other fall during a fight. Then went bat shit crazy. It got messy. It wasn't guaranteed to happen- the ‘break’. But it did happen. Some clans were more disposed to it than others….. *cough uchiha *cough. 

 

Sakura wouldn't be turning thirteen for a few months, so had yet to manifest her mark. She’d be a genin before she knew what her fated’s soul looked like engraved upon her skin. 

 

(And what a beautiful thing it would be. )

 

What colours they would be (hopefully not orange), what shapes would best represent them, what hers would look like decorating them.

 

(how stunning her soul is. What beautiful art work it creates)

 

 What would her claim to them be ? knowing her luck, and the universes love of fucking with her, it would be pink sakura petals. So literal … she hoped not. She hoped it was  something more than that. 

 

She wanted to prove to herself that she was more than that. More than something delicate and beautiful. More than something fleeting. Because that's what petals were - fleeting beauty. Because they were beautiful, there's no denying that. But they died too soon. They could not exist without their beauty. And the  love of them  was based on their beauty — she didn't want a love that was conditional.

 

 She didn't want to just be beautiful. To be a  house wife to a man who didn't value her mind, or her strength. That's what her mother wanted for her, but it wasn't enough. 

 

 She wanted to be more than that. Being beautiful wasn't enough - she knew she was going to grow up to be beautiful. What she didn't know was if she would be brave, if she would be kind, if she would be ruthless, if she would be great. 

 

She wanted to be remembered for more than being beautiful. So she hoped that her mark was more than merely petals— to prove to herself that she can be more. That she can be more . 

 

Sakura didn't know if it was the difference in values between her old world and her new world, or if her mothers views were merely outdated. But it was like she had been sent not only into another world . But back in time. She didn't want to be her soulmate's pretty little wife. 

 

She was going to be a shinobi. She was going to be a medic nin. She was going to shake the stars — and she was going to take her soulmate with her. Whoever they were. 

 

And with every day that passed, Sakura drew closer to her goal. Closer to her dream. Closer to who she knew she could be. Compassionate yet ruthless. Intelligent yet considerate. Beautiful and deadly. 

 

As the exam drew nearer  - she knew what was coming. Sakura was going to be placed on a team with two future monsters (and a sensei who could not give two fucks about teaching her anything beyond the bare minimum). And she was one hundred percent okay with that (for the most part) - she planned to meet them every step of the way.  

 

Notes:

kudos are love <3

Chapter 3: and the world will keep on turning

Summary:

the academy graduation exams comes around and Sakura contemplates pretty dead boys and ugly living ones.

 

Sakura was going to be placed with two future monsters. And she was one hundred percent okay with that - she planned to meet them every step of the way.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One thing Sakura would always love about Konoha was its library. The depth of knowledge stored there outweighed anything from her old life—it didn't quite rival the internet, but you can't have everything. The way the walls closed around her was strangely comforting. Being surrounded by so much knowledge—and the freedom it gives you—is a heady feeling for a twelve-year-old (no matter if they are a reincarnated nineteen-year-old or not).

Every afternoon, after the academy let out, Sakura would bundle up her work and haul ass to the library, where she would delve into the shelves, spying out books and scrolls on whatever topic she was covering that day.
She may have the memories from her previous life, but certain knowledge from her old world doesn't really translate into a sparkly magical ninja world where animals can talk and boys who look like ducks can breathe fire.

Some knowledge would benefit her, such as her anatomical understanding. Then again, how much does the presence of chakra enhance the body? She’d seen ninja casually take hits that would have hospitalized people from her old world.

“How does chakra augmentation actually work anyway? It can’t only be to the muscles, or the hits they receive would do some real damage to your internal organs.” Sakura spent hours researching and learning about how chakra changed the body—how it impacted muscle growth, influenced hormonal patterns, and interacted with the brain.

The amount of information being crammed into her already overwhelmed brain would have fried anyone else in her age group. But Sakura was different—she had the mind of a nineteen-year-old a year into their medical degree, on top of her already impressive eidetic memory.

Inner helped, creating a mental library during their evening meditation sessions. Weaving chakra into her mindscape, building shelves upon shelves to store not only the influx of new information, but also the knowledge from her old life that would eventually become relevant—such as her medical studies or her recollection of canon events. Inner acted as a sort of librarian, digging through information and memories and sorting them based on their contents—ninjutsu had a section, taijutsu another, chakra control was stored on its own set of shelves, having the most information available for pre-genin.

Her old-world knowledge was stored separately. In the centre of her mental library grew an old English oak tree. Its branches reached out across the tops of bookshelves, lights dripping from its branches illuminating alcoves of yet more books. When closely examined, within each glowing droplet could be found an image. A memory. Never friends or family, never something to mourn. But things that may be needed—that didn't fit within her shelves.

Her memory of the plot was locked away in a safe that only Inner could access. All in all, the library was a thing of nerdy beauty. Towering shelves of information available at a single thought. Sakura's mind truly was a terrifying place—no wonder she was angry all the time in canon.

Sakura’s main priority was getting her chakra under control. If she remembered correctly, canon Sakura had chakra control in the 99th percentile, so she should be able to manage it relatively easily. But she kept running into an issue—her chakra store had grown upon the introduction of a mature mind into a child's body.

Her control wasn't quite shot, but it wasn't what it used to be either, according to Inner.

It was growing, however. The library offered a variety of information on chakra control exercises—ranging from leaves to water. Tree walking fell solidly in the middle, and Sakura was confident she could manage it well enough on her own. It wasn't too complicated, after all. Merely regulate the chakra output to match the density of the surface, its texture, and its strength. Surfaces such as water required more attention—more chakra—as a result of the surface tension of the water, but also due to its fluid state. Water moves, after all, while trees tend to stay still. Tend to, as you never know what will happen when Mokuton comes into play.

It was quite interesting, really—especially the information about manipulating not only chakra output, but chakra density. Water requires a greater density of chakra as it's a fluid surface—it needs to float! So a surface dense enough to hold up your body weight must be created. But trees provide a solid surface and can support weight on their own. So a surface doesn't need to be created; chakra just has to be used to stick.

Sakura spends a lot of time in the library… Her grades appreciate it. Her sleep schedule does not.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

‘Today's the day,’ she thought, staring at the academy building. It felt intimidating today, as opposed to its usual welcoming. She knew she wasn't going to fail.

‘You'll be fine,’ Inner grouched. ‘It's only the Academy Three anyway. They're easy as shit.’

 

Inner had begun picking up on her bad language… Sakura didn't know how she felt about teaching a child to swear. But seeing as it was basically herself, she decided it didn't count. It was funny though—the voice of a twelve-year-old swearing like a sailor caught in a rain of bed knobs.

Although, it made some very amusing commentary. Especially when her mother said something Inner didn't quite agree with… The first time Inner had called her mother a cunt, Sakura had choked on the tea she was drinking and scalded the roof of her mouth… it hurt. The way it peeled off in the days following the incident had not been a pleasant experience. 

“Sakura!” a voice called for her. “This way, please.” It was Iruka-sensei.

She turned, rose hair billowing behind her as the wind picked up… then proceeded to change direction and blow said hair into her mouth. She needed to cut it… well, it was going to get cut anyway… she’d keep it long—for the plot!

“Blegh.” She reached up to pull the pink tresses away from her mouth, pulling a hair band off her wrist as she started walking toward her teacher.

“The written exam is just this way,” Iruka-sensei said, gesturing down the hall. He guided her toward her exam room. Rows of desks lined the room, five per row. Each chair was occupied by an anxious twelve-year-old, their future laid out before them on a stack of paper. 

Child soldiers… she still wasn't quite used to the idea that she would have to kill people. She’d seen people die, of course—seen cadavers in med school. At least she thought she did. The memories were blurry.

‘This isn't the time for your moral dilemmas,’ Inner’s voice echoed through her mind, drawing her attention back to the sheet of paper before her. Eyes trailed over the blank side of the paper—just waiting to be turned over.

‘Okay. This is fine! This is totally fine. It's easy and we know all of it.’ Pages and pages of notes, diagrams, and annotated passages flashed through her mind—chakra theory and taijutsu scrolls, history and mathematics, biology and politics. So much to remember… all the information squishing together and contorting into a mutant mush of words and numbers.

“You may begin.” Iruka's voice echoed through the room, the silence broken by the rustle of twenty children turning over the paper in front of them.

‘How does the treaty established with Sunagakure benefit the economy of Konohagakure?’

Okay, this is easy. She could do this. Sakura reached for the pencil resting beside her and began to write. The further she got down the page, the more confident she became. It really wasn't too complicated. The only questions she had any problem with were the history ones—but even those she tackled with a reasonable amount of confidence.

Half an hour passed in a rush, words and numbers filling the page before her. Sakura placed her pencil down to check through all of her answers. Once they were checked and corrected, if necessary, she flipped her paper over and leaned back in her chair. Eyes flicked over the rest of the students seated around her, and her gaze was drawn to a shock of bright blonde hair.

‘Naruto!’ The poor boy appeared to be struggling, his hands periodically running through his already messy hair, blue eyes trained on the paper before him, his brow pinched in a frown, lips pressed together in a pout. It was quite cute, really—it made him look his thirteen years of age. She couldn't wait to squish his cheeks… No, Sakura!

A cough echoed from the front of the classroom. Her eyes shifted to meet Iruka's pointed stare. ‘Eyes to yourself, Sakura,’ his gaze seemed to say. Suddenly, her desk seemed very interesting—pale wood, scratched up from years of use, different names carved into it. But one in particular caught her eye: ‘Shisui.’ Oh dang, she forgot about him. He was such a cutie… pity he was dead.

‘I wonder…’

NO, SAKURA! There will be no forbidden jutsu so you can stare at pretty Uchiha boys.

‘But they are nice to look at…’ See? Inner agreed with her… that means she definitely shouldn't do it. Crap… no pretty boys for her.

‘You're really funny,’ Inner was laughing at her… again…

‘You’re so mean to me,’ she whined, her lips shifting into a pout.

‘Someone has to be.’ She huffed out a sweet laugh at Inner’s flat tone. Another pointed cough from Iruka.

Right, she was supposed to be quiet. Think about something else…

“Okay, that's your time up! Please turn your papers over.” Quiet swearing from behind her brought a smile to her lips. A few disgruntled huffs and a few relieved sighs bounced off the walls.

“Please stay seated while we collect your papers, then you may leave a row at a time.” He started down the first row, while the other proctors handled the second and third. Her eyes landed on Mizuki.

‘Bastard,’ she thought bitterly. ‘What a snivelling, slimy little bitch-ass—’

“You may leave, Sakura.” His voice was as slimy as his face. His smile was too sharp, too cruel—like he was dressing up as the compassionate, hardworking sensei that Iruka actually was.

It was pitiful.

She rose from her chair and followed her classmates into the adjoining room, where they were waiting for the practical portion of their exam.

As the minutes passed, the line grew shorter and shorter, until eventually her name was called. Sakura stepped forward and passed through the set of double doors before her. She was greeted by Iruka, Mizuki, and one other she didn't recognize, seated at a table.

“Hello, Sakura. Could you please perform a henge, a clone, and a substitution jutsu in that order for us?”

“Sure, sensei.” She moved through the sequence for a henge first, shifting into her favourite teacher.

“Very good, Sakura,” Iruka chuckled. “Now a clone, if you would.”

Again, she moved through the hand signs, and an identical copy of her poofed into existence. Faint wisps of smoke floated up and away from the clone.

‘Shit—too much chakra.’

“Wonderful, Sakura! Now the substitution jutsu, please?”

Her eyes flicked across the room, identifying the object she wished to swap with—an ugly blue plant pot in the corner. Her fingers flashed through signs, then she was gone. The ugly blue plant pot rested where she had been seconds before.

‘I keep forgetting how cool this is,’ she preened.

‘Focus!’

“Thank you, Sakura. I do believe—” he glanced at the two seated beside him, “—that you have passed with flying colours. Your paper was marked while you were waiting, and you scored 98%. That makes you the kunoichi of the year. Congratulations!”

He grinned at her, pride evident on his face. He reached forward, a slip of cloth in his hand, light glinting off metal, then let it slip between his fingers to dangle below his hand.

“Here's your headband. Congratulations, Genin Sakura. Please meet here tomorrow at 10 to meet your team.”

“Thank you, sensei!” A grin stretched across her face, jade eyes lighting up with delight. She did it.

‘We knew you could do it. Why are you so happy?’ Inner grouched.

‘Because now I know for sure that I will be on their team. I can save people!’

Her joy was infectious. As she walked out of the room, the families waiting anxiously for their prospective ninja children couldn't help but smile at her.

She did it.

She was going to be a ninja. She was going to save everyone. And more importantly, she was going to kick some serious ass. And meet her soulmates, of course. She couldn't forget that.

Most importantly, she was going to find her soulmates—and keep them safe, come what may.

Notes:

kudos are love !

Chapter 4: a tale of subtle shifts and silver heart throbs

Summary:

here comes kakashi ... our girl needs to take a break

She was going to be a ninja. She was going to save everyone. And more importantly, she was going to kick some serious ass. And meet her soulmates, of course. She couldn't forget that.

Most importantly, she was going to find her soulmates—and keep them safe, come what may.

~~ ~ ~ ~

Sakura didn’t sleep well that night—images of tragedy after tragedy plagued her.

It began with Ino.

She lay sprawled across the academy floor, her beautiful platinum hair matted with blood, strands clinging to her cheeks like wet silk. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Her pupilless eyes stared at nothing, wide and glassy. Half her skull was gone—just gone—and brain matter oozed in slow, sticky rivulets from the back of her head.

Sakura tried to move, to scream, to help—but her body wouldn’t respond. Her limbs felt like stone. Her voice was buried somewhere beneath the weight of horror.

Then the scene shifted.

Naruto stood tall above her, cloaked in blazing red chakra, tails whipping through the air like serpents. The heat was suffocating. The roar of power drowned out everything else. For a moment, she felt safe—wrapped in his protective cocoon.

But then he broke free.

He turned away, charging toward a shadow she couldn’t see. His body flew backwards, impaled mid-air. A spike of black metal jutted from his stomach. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he smiled at her—soft, apologetic.

“I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered.

Then he vanished.

The world twisted again.

Kakashi lay limp on jagged rocks, his body broken, his mask torn. One eye was missing—plucked out—and blood oozed from the gaping hole in his skull. His chest rose and fell with staggered, rattling breaths. She reached for him, chakra flaring in her hands, but her fingers passed through him like mist.

“Too late,” he rasped. “You knew this would happen.”

She screamed. No sound came out.

Then it was Chōji. Then Shikamaru. Hinata. Tenten. Neji. Again and again and again.

Each death more grotesque than the last. Each face twisted in pain. Each voice echoing the same question:

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

The scenes looped. Repeated. Warped.

Sometimes they blamed her. Sometimes they begged her. Sometimes they just stared, silent and accusing.

The blood on her hands wouldn’t wash off. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin split. Still, it clung to her. Sticky. Hot. Eternal.

She woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding like a drumbeat in her throat.

Her hands were clean.

But it didn’t feel that way.

Sakura didn't sleep well that night. 

~ ~ ~ ~

When she finally gave up on having a restful night’s sleep, it was 04:37. Just over five hours until she met her team.

(It had felt so real.)

She already knew who it would be: Naruto, Sasuke, and herself. And Kakashi.

Gods. Kakashi.

The walking embodiment of trauma.
The man who turned being a pervert into a fashion statement.
The definition of “I can't cope with my feelings.”
Mr “I don't need therapy, I have dogs.”
Lord of “I hate myself and don’t know how to fix it.”

A kind, selfless, broken man. Who she was going to hug. A lot.

He was also, like… really hot.
(The hot blood on her hands.)

Enough thirsting over unattainable men, Sakura. You are faithful to your soulmates…
But have you seen this man’s jawline? Ugh.

How she was going to pay attention to his lessons with a face like that, she didn’t know.
But regardless of that, the poor man needed lots and lots of hugs.

(It had been so real.)

05:34.

Dang… say what you want about that man, but he was distracting.

Okay, time to do something productive.
What to do?

(It wasn’t real.)

‘Forget Mr Tall and Traumatised. When was the last time you meditated properly?’ Inner chastised. ‘You really need to get back into the habit—you’ve been slipping lately.’

“Right.”

She moved toward the edge of her bed, sliding her socked feet onto the floor. Pushing aside her assorted books and papers, she cleared space to sit comfortably. Sinking to the floor, she crossed her legs and began to focus on her breathing.

One breath in. One breath out.
(Her hands were clean.)

How was her body feeling?
She was tired. But that was to be expected.
Her mind was a bit all over the place after her nightmare—flashback? Vision? She didn’t know.

(Her hands were clean.)

Slowly, Sakura began to circulate chakra through her system—to her arms, her legs, all around her body. The buzzing was nice, if not a bit weird. Like static electricity. It was stronger today—more present. More responsive. Like a flock of swallows under her skin.
Like she said… weird.

“Okay, chakra to the arms… legs… don’t forget the toes. Why do I always forget the toes?”

‘Because you’re too busy fantasizing about emotionally unavailable men.’

She then began to bring it to her mind, weaving it into the walls of her mental library, into the shelves, into the very books themselves.

“Okay, focus. You’re a ninja now. You’re mature. You’re composed. You’re—thinking about Kakashi’s arms again. Damn it.”

‘You’re hopeless. You’ve not been a Genin for 24 hours and you’re already mentally compromised.’

She was loyal to her soulmates, damnit.

She poured extra chakra into the door holding back her memories of her past life—of canon—sealing it with chains only Inner could undo. But just for a second—for a fleeting moment—the chains pulsed as the door bulged… trying to open. Trying to set free what resided behind it.

Not yet, Sakura thought. I’m not ready yet. I’m not there yet.

An hour passed, and by the time Inner drew her attention to the clock, Sakura was calm.
The visions she had were processed and stored.
Her mind was quiet.

They were all okay.
They would survive.
She would save them. All of them. For herself. Because of what she had seen.

“Am I selfish for this?”

‘No. You’re not just doing this for you. You’re doing it for them too,’ Inner murmured. ‘You’re doing this because you remember what it felt like to lose them.’

Today she would meet her team.
Today she was more than just a Genin.
She was a reality traveler. A dimension hopper. A reincarnated soul.
She was a walking, talking spoiler.

And if she failed, people would die.

But she wouldn’t.

She would succeed.
For herself.
For her soulmates.
For what would never come to be.

(Her hands were clean)

‘And maybe,’ Inner added, ‘you might just survive Kakashi’s shoulders too.’

~~ ~ ~ ~

The sun was barely visible when Sakura left the house—it was eight, so she was a bit early, but she had plans to stop on the way. Mainly to see if she could pick up some flowers and stop off at the memorial stone. It helped sometimes, getting to talk to those she didn’t remember losing. The family she had left behind.

There was a stall ten minutes from her house that sold blue salvia—a flower symbolic of memory and remembrance. She was only doing one of those things. She couldn’t grieve for a family she didn’t remember.

When she arrived at the stone, a figure was already there—one she knew of well, and hoped to one day know. Silver hair caught the early morning light as Mr “trauma is fashionable” looked in her direction before promptly ignoring her existence.

She came to a stop next to the stone, dropping to one knee to lay the flowers down gently, before rising back to her feet and taking a few steps away from the man. He made a lonely sight, standing there in the sunlight. You’d think it would be cinemagraphic, but it was just sad.

‘I will save them,’ she thought resolutely. ‘I will make sure that none of it comes to pass. I will kill and maim and torture to keep them safe. They will survive this. I will ensure it.’

Her vows echoed in her mind like a prayer—silent and unspoken.

~~ ~ ~ ~

Sakura was five minutes early to the academy. Which, in ninja time, meant she was late. But in Kakashi time, she was hours early.

The early morning wind blew against her face, whipping her hair in every direction. She attempted to restrain it with her headband, but it appeared to have a personal vendetta against her today.

Her footsteps echoed off the wooden floors as the classroom doors loomed ahead—red and ordinary. Deceptively innocent. Inside, her future awaited her: one loud and optimistic, one duck-shaped and brooding, and one chronically late.

She breathed in through her nose, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

This was it.
She was ready.
Definitely.
Probably.
Maybe.

Inner snorted. ‘Come on, you big baby. It’s just two traumatised teenage boys and an emotionally constipated sensei—what are they going to do?’

She stepped through the doors.

And got hit in the face by a falling chalkboard rubber.

What the fuck…

Inner cackled in the back of her mind.

Naruto leapt from his seat, laughter exploding from his chest—until he realised who the rubber had hit. Then all colour leached from his face. He galloped forward, hands flailing in front of him.

“I am so sorry, Saku—”

A laugh bubbled up her throat.

“Don’t worry about it, Naruto,” she reassured, dusting chalk off the front of her top. “It was funny.”

“Ah… if you say so.” He seemed unsure, almost like he was waiting for her to hit him.

“I’m not going to hit you,” her voice was flat and unimpressed.

“Okay, Sakura!” His jubilation returned with full force. “Are you excited to be in a team together? Though we are with the teme… we’ll have a great time, Sakura! We’ll be awesome ninja and—”

“Wow, Naruto, slow down,” Sakura pleaded, his volume overwhelming her for a moment.

She heard a quiet grumble from the back of the classroom and looked up to find Sasuke staring at her with narrowed eyes.

“You missed the team assignments.”

Oh… she thought she was early?

Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward the window, jaw tight. His fingers curled slightly against the desk—like he was holding something back. Or holding something in.

(Their chakra signatures buzzed around her—Naruto’s like a wildfire, erratic and bright. Like a warm hug. It was comforting. Sasuke’s was like a storm cloud, dense and contained. It buzzed against her consciousness like fireflies. She wondered if they even knew how loud they were.)

“We received a message this morning telling us that the timing had changed. Did you not get it?” Naruto was bouncing again. How this boy had so much energy was beyond her.

“No?”

“Well, you’re late. We’re Team Seven,” Sasuke spoke shortly. Sentences clipped. “We have a guy named Kakashi.”

His ‘I’m too strong for you’ attitude was really beginning to piss her off.

‘Never mind hitting Naruto, you should throw Duckbutt up the training ground,’ Inner added.

Sakura ignored her and took a seat at the front of the room, quietly responding to Naruto at the appropriate moments with the occasional “huh” and “no, really?” Every time she engaged or responded, his enthusiasm grew.

At every indication that she wouldn’t ignore him, wouldn’t snub him for asking questions, wouldn’t laugh at him for speaking—his grin grew wider, his excitement contagious. He finally had someone who would listen when he spoke.

Two hours passed like this, with Sasuke occasionally ad-libbing their conversation with snide remarks and unnecessary condescension.

(“Hey, Sasuke! You think Kakashi’s gonna teach us cool jutsu?”
Sasuke didn’t look up. “Don’t talk to me.”
But Sakura saw it—the half-second pause before he spoke. Like he almost answered.)

Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor.

‘He’s doing that on purpose,’ Inner warned. ‘He wants to see what you do.’

Don’t stare at the door, Sakura.
Don’t stare at the door.
She was staring at the door.

The boys followed her gaze to where the door was beginning to slide open.

Here he was.

Mr Tall and Traumatised.
The man, the myth, the emotional wreckage in jōnin uniform.

He stepped through the door, glancing around the room slowly before his eyes came to rest on the three children before him.

“Yo.”

His gaze landed on her—a hint of recognition in his eyes.

He remembers.

“I’m Kakashi. And I’ll be your jōnin sensei.” He turned in the doorway. “Meet me on the roof in five minutes.”

Then he poofed away.

(and maybe he’ll try harder this time)

 

Notes:

kudos are love

Chapter 5: rooftop realisations

Summary:

roof top shenanigans and a flabbergasted Kakashi... which is most amusing.

 

It took Sakura four minutes and twenty-eight seconds to reach the roof. Not bad—but also nothing to be proud of. She’d had to run up four flights of stairs. That was a lot of steps.

Air heaved in and out of her lungs, the sweet smell of apple blossoms clinging to the back of her throat. But her attention was fixed on the man before her, casually leaning against the painted railing, utterly indifferent to the panting children in front of him. His nose was buried in that blasted orange book.

I wonder if it’s even good smut… probably not.

When her breathing finally slowed and she no longer felt like she was about to regurgitate her small intestine, Sakura sat on the steps before her new sensei. Gazing up at him with sparkling jade eyes, she couldn’t believe it.

He’s even hotter in person… look at that jawline… dang.

‘He’s fourteen years older than you’, Inner injected.

“That’s okay… I would wait,” Sakura mumbled.

“What was that, Pinkie?” Kakashi responded, tone slightly confused.

“Nothing, sensei! Don’t you worry.”

The heat radiating from the sun-warmed roof soaked into her legs. The wind tugged at her hair, sticking it to her sweat-dampened forehead. The heat sucked. She lifted a hand to push her hair away from her face and behind her ear, when her attention was caught by a bird flying high above them. Untethered. Free. Lonely.

Her focus snapped back as Sasuke dropped onto the step above her, breathing slightly harder than normal. Bastard. Of course he wasn’t even winded. Naruto collapsed next to her, panting like he’d just run from the top of the Hokage Mountain. His head lolled back as he breathed, resting on the step behind him.

“What the hell, sensei!?” he exclaimed.

Still, her sensei never looked up from his book. His stance was relaxed, his lithe form reclined like a cat in the sun. He was all lean muscle and hidden skin. It was as intimidating as it was intriguing.

You have soulmates, Sakura… enough yearning for Mr ‘can’t handle affection’.

There was a quiet rustle as Kakashi turned a page.

“Why are we here?” Sasuke’s even voice cut through the silence, and just like that, Kakashi shifted—suddenly, they were the full focus of his attention.

“For introductions, of course!” Kakashi’s falsely bright voice responded.

“We already know each other, though,” said good old Naruto, always endearingly stating the obvious.

She knew this scene. She’d watched it, read it, memorised every line. But now that she was living it, it felt… off. Like the script had been handed to her, but someone had scribbled in the margins. Drawing little distorted puppies and ducks all over the place, obscuring half of her lines.

“But we’re going to do it anyway. Starting with you, Pinkie.”

Why must he call her that…

‘Probably because you are, in fact, pink.’
Shut up.

She sat up straighter. Here we go. The first chance to change things. The first chance to make a difference. It was also the first opportunity to prove that she was more than they all thought she was. That she could be a skilled kunoichi. That she could be more. That she could be seen.

“Okay then… ummm… I’m Haruno Sakura. My favorite food is tempura. I like to read—well, anything. I haven’t found my soulmate yet. I want to be a combat medic, like Tsunade! I want to be able to kill a man with a flick of my finger, or crush their heart with my bare hands…” she trailed off dreamily.

Naruto gave her a concerned look. Maybe it was the crushing hearts that put him off…

Sasuke gave her an appraising glance, almost as if he were re-evaluating his expectations of her.

Kakashi, however—most amusingly of all—looked terrified. Eyes wide. Fingers twitching.

“Well… we’ll have to see what happens…” His voice shook with what could only be fear.

Kakashi Hatake, man of a thousand jutsu, scared of the mere idea of a mini Tsunade. That was not the difference she intended to make… oh well.

‘I can’t decide if that’s adorable or pathetic.’

“Okaaayyy,” he dragged out, inclining his head toward Naruto. “You next.”

Naruto perked up like a little puppy. Sakura internally squealed.

He’s so cute, oh my god.

He was practically vibrating with energy—it was almost visibly radiating off him. The change in his chakra was notable, shifting from a warm fire to near fireworks. His excitement was loud. So very loud.

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto! I like ramen with extra pork and no vegetables. I like instant ramen and plants and my soulmates, but I haven’t me—”

“Okay, Naruto, how about a goal?” Sakura gently injected.

“I’m going to be the best Hokage ever! Believe it!”

‘Why is he so loud… we’re right next to him.’
Hush, it’s sweet.
‘He’s like a sugar-high two-year-old when they first discover ball pits.’
‘Are ball pits even a thing here?’
‘I don’t know??? Why would I know what one is if they weren’t a thing?’

“Are you still with us, Sakura?” Kakashi’s voice interrupted her internal monologue.

“Yes… yes, sorry, sensei. I’m with you.”

‘Oh, I’d like to be with you.’

‘Inner!’, Sakura thought loudly—or at least attempted to. Like most people, she could not change the volume of her thoughts.

“Lovely. Dark and broody over there? Your turn.” Sakura suppressed a giggle. Naruto, however, cackled at Sasuke’s expense.

“Uchiha Sasuke. I don’t like anything. And I don’t have dreams—I have goals. And there is someone I am going to kill. And I don’t care about my soulmate unless they’re going to help me repopulate my clan.”

His chakra was a simmering storm, sparks of lightning flying off him. A direct contrast to Naruto’s warm, welcoming chakra. Sasuke’s was aggressive and defiant. One wrong move from exploding like a shaken can of Coke. Or a pipe bomb.

Sakura blinked.
Kakashi blinked.
Naruto gaped… then he blinked.

“That’s… interesting, Sasuke.” Kakashi pushed himself up off the bars behind him and brought his hands together. She hadn’t even noticed him putting the book away.

Dang. So he’s pretty and fast.

“Now that we all know ea—”

“What about you, sensei?” inquired Naruto. “You haven’t gone yet.”

“So I haven’t. Well, I’m Kakashi. I don’t have any dreams. I like what I like and dislike what I hate.” He paused for a second. “And I have dog summons.”

Kakashi’s chakra was strange. Not loud like Naruto’s, nor stormy like Sasuke’s. It was quiet. Controlled. But there was something underneath it—like grief folded into origami. Hidden, but still there. He crackled with grief, and something else she couldn’t quite name. But it was wrapping itself steadily around them in a protective cocoon.

It was warm. In a different way than Naruto’s, but still warm. If electricity can be warm. Kind of like an electric blanket.

‘Wait, he didn’t say that last time.’

Last time? What last time? There is not a last time. Only the manga. The manga and the anime. And her memory of them.

“Oh! When can we meet them?” she exclaimed, eyes wide, hands clasped in front of her, staring up at him pleadingly.

Puppies!
‘ You’re pathetic.’
But puppies! That can talk!

“Well, now that that’s over—” Kakashi’s eyes lingered on the three teens before him. Something akin to grief flashed in his eyes. No longer judgmental, no longer assessing their worth as shinobi, but in remembrance for what had long passed.

Seven was a special number, after all.

“Meet me at Training Ground Seven tomorrow morning at six. Be on time, or else.”

He turned to leave, one hand resting on the railing, preparing to jump over the edge.

“Oh, one more thing—don’t eat breakfast.”

He jumped over the edge and vanished from their view.

Sakura turned to look at her new team. A sunshine jinchūriki, a brooding avenger, and a tormented, half-lost sensei.

This was going to be interesting.

They were all so different…

Sakura watched the spot where Kakashi had vanished, the rooftop suddenly quiet except for the wind tugging at her hair. Naruto was still grinning, Sasuke already halfway down the stairs, and she—she was somewhere in between.

They were three puzzle pieces from different boxes.
But maybe, just maybe, they could fit together if someone was willing to sand down the edges.

She stood slowly, brushing dust from her skirt, and followed the boys down. Tomorrow would be the real deal. And she would meet her team every step of the way. 

 

Chapter 6: grass and guess work

Summary:

i didnt know grass could be so metaphorical,
poor sakura has some realisations that shake her
inner realises that maybe she does care, just a little bit
and naruto is an orange cat

They were three puzzle pieces from different boxes.
But maybe, just maybe, they could fit together if someone was willing to sand down the edges.

She stood slowly, brushing dust from her skirt, and followed the boys down. Tomorrow would be the real deal. And she would meet her team every step of the way. 

~  ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ugh, it’s too eaaarrrlllyyyyyyy,” Sakura groaned, dragging her feet down the dusty footpath that led to the training ground. The wind caught in her top, the loose red fabric billowing around the. Dust settled against the black of her trousers, the stark contrast of the dark colours against her pale skin creating a stark contrast in the early morning light. 

“Shut up,” Inner’s unimpressed voice echoed through Sakura’s head. “You are so childish.”

“He’s not going to be there for at least another three hours!” Sakura protested. “I don’t see why I have to be there so eaarrrlllyyyyy.”

Her stomach growled—loudly. Sakura flushed, red rising in her pale cheeks. Her eyes sluggishly flicked around her surroundings. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, as if to cage the quiet growls coming from it.

“Phew,” she exhaled slowly before continuing down the path.

“I wonder if the boys are there yet?” her voice was bright, sunny, like the sky before her. 

“You could check? Idiot.”

“You’re so mean! What did I ever do to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know—take over my body, corrupt my memories, make me into the jailor of your mind, trap me in a mental library, make me deal with a petty, childish toddler twenty-four hours a day? I don’t know, Sakura, what did you do to me?”

She could taste Inner’s sarcasm on the tip of her tongue. No genuine venom behind the words, but a hint of sadness fringed the corners of her mind.

“I…” Inner faltered, pausing for a long moment. Like a breath she forgot to take. Or a skipped heartbeat. Like the echo of something she couldn’t quite remember—a memory that wasn’t quite her own. An image she couldn’t recall. One she wasn’t allowed to keep.

Sakura had forgotten. For a moment, she had forgotten that this life—this life—wasn’t hers. She had forgotten that this world wasn’t hers. She had forgotten that this family wasn’t hers. This body, this mind, this consciousness—none of it was hers. For just one moment, she had forgotten.

Somewhere, in a life she barely remembered, mornings smelled like burnt toast and cheap perfume. Here, they smelled like rain and possibility.

For one moment, she was living as if it were hers. She loved her team, even though she hadn’t known them for very long. Sakura had grown up with them—but she hadn’t. Well, she had, but not in the same way.

But oh, she loved this world. She loved her chakra. She loved the smell of the Hashirama trees in the rain. She loved the way the sun lit up the rooftops in the early morning, and the way the sky glowed like fire in the evenings. The sunsets here were truly some of the most beautiful she had ever seen.

Most of all, Sakura loved her soulmates. She loved that someone out there might love her—not despite, but regardless. Someone whose flaws mirrored her own. Someone who could understand her in ways no one else ever had. Someone who might love her enough that she could forget how much she hated herself. Someone she could love so fiercely that the grief lodged in her chest might finally loosen. Just maybe.

But… would they still love her if they knew? If they knew she was living a life that wasn’t hers? If they knew she was stitched together from someone else’s threads— a borrowed soul in a borrowed story? 

 

She loved Inner too. It was like gaining a built-in best friend. A confidant. A sister. A guardian. Inner was a part of her piece. And despite her sarcasm and dry humour, Sakura had come to love her.

So the idea that she was making her suffer tore a hole in something she didn’t know could be damaged. It struck her viscerally—like a hot knife through butter. Like a deathly sharp blade through a child’s delicate skin.

The trees that had minutes ago been a comfort, shielding her from the world, now felt like witnesses to her contempt. To her murder. Self-murder. She had stolen this life. These trees were no longer her protectors—now they were her jury.

Sakura was a missing piece of someone else’s jigsaw, ended up in the wrong box, scrutinised and picked apart to make her fit into a world that was not hers. Her edges sanded down and reshaped. Thoughts and feelings disparaged or rewarded. A new world order forced down her throat.

Her lack of mercy had once been criticised. Here, it was praised. Her mind had once been something to boast. Here, it could get her killed.

She walked through borrowed mornings, stolen time  and second hand sunsets, trying to weave herself into a story that had already begun. A tragedy already written. A love that had already been decided. And a life that had been loved once before.

She hated the lie that she was becoming. But she loved the future she was building. She mourned what had once been, even as she sank her fingers deeper into what she found in this world. She was a fake. An imposter. A liar. And she was finally home.

She may not be the right puzzle piece, but with work, she would fit into the picture of this world. And maybe—just maybe—she could truly belong.

“Stop being so depressing,” Inner sighed. “You’re such an idiot. You didn’t steal anything. You lost your world too. Your soulmates—they’re yours. It’s from the soul, not the body. If they weren’t meant for you, they wouldn’t be there. Now calm down and stop being such a worrywart. All you did was survive. Nobody will fault you for that. Besides, no one’s noticed.’ inner paused for a moment, the silence that was once chilling, warmed. Her crystal lined eyes fluttered. One small tear falling from her eye, leaving a trail of silver down her pale cheek  ‘It’s okay. You’re doing good. We’re doing good.”

Sakura looked up from where she had stopped, and the trees were now only trees. The sunrise was just the sun.

Eyes slipping shut, she breathed in, letting the smell of the undisturbed morning air fill her lungs—grass and rain. Holding her breath for just a moment, she opened her eyes again before letting it out.

Her feet began down the path with a rhythm she hadn’t learned. Her fingers twitched instinctively toward a kunai she hadn’t trained with. Even her breath felt rehearsed—like her lungs remembered battles she’d never fought.

‘Okay miss self loathing, that's enough of that for today’

~  ~ ~ ~ ~

The boys were, in fact, there when she arrived. They looked like they were supposed to be there—a part of the scenery. As if they'd been planted and grown from the soil, just like the trees. They belonged, not by intention, but by inevitability.

Naruto lay sprawled across the sun-spotted grass, limbs thrown wide, one arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the light. Basking—no, luxuriating—in the shade of the tree above him, he looked like a very large, very boisterous cat. And orange. So very, very orange. At least his top was. The neon hue clashed harshly with the gentle green of the grass around him, refusing to be ignored.

The green was almost like the background of a painting, with him as the artist's muse. It wasn’t picturesque—he looked clumsy and awkward—but it belonged in a painting nonetheless. Naruto was, and would become, the kind of person people painted. He stuck in the memory, as stubborn as his orange tops. He refused to be ignored. And refused to be forgotten.

The grass became a canvas, the tree a frame, and Naruto—awkward, clumsy, limbs too long and angles too sharp—was the artist’s muse. A hero. A legend. A great big orange cat.

Sasuke was perched on the tree branch above him, legs hanging down, feet swinging subtly to a tune no one else could hear. Even Mr. Cool couldn’t help but move. His eyes gazed off into the sky—thoughtless, yet contemplative. A moving contradiction.

But it was evident to anyone paying attention—or at least to her. He was bored. Just as bored as Naruto. And undoubtedly, just as bored as she would soon become.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her trousers, clenching tightly, subconsciously searching for something to ground her against the torrent of her mind. Her body was reacting to the whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc in her head—like her hands knew she needed anchoring before her brain caught up with her thoughts.

A twig snapped under her foot, the sharp sound reverberating across the field. Naruto perked up, head twitching in her direction. She almost felt guilty for disturbing him. Almost being the key word.

‘It’s pre-emptive revenge for all the shit he’s going to put us through in the next few years,” Inner grumbled quietly in the back of her mind. “We should start making him pay us angst rent. The more broody duck he is, the more money we get.’

She had been quiet for the final stretch of the walk—almost contemplative. Considerate. Whether of herself or of Sakura was the true question. There had been a silent agreement between the two not to discuss what had happened on the walk to the training ground. It needed serious unpacking, and that was not something to be done on this little sleep, nor this early in the morning.

‘Maybe we should charge interest. Additional payments every time he says something that pisses us off. Or breathes too loudly. Or looks at us funny.’

No further conversation was needed for them both to agree that the morning’s revelations were a future Sakura problem.

‘Add it to the growing pile of problems you've got to deal with, yeah?’

Right there with unacknowledged feelings, half-told truths, and partially formed memories from lifetimes she didn’t remember living—and people she didn’t remember loving.

Future Sakura’s inbox was overflowing: unread notes from past selves passed from desk to desk, emotional messages she hadn’t dared to listen to, poor summons sent away whenever her subconscious resurfaced in dreams. And finally, a bright, blinking notification labelled Soulmate? that she kept swiping away. Determined to ignore, yet desperate to press. A bomb waiting to explode. Right in her face.

The morning sun glittered off the dew-covered grass. Something so simple and so naïve, trying so hard to be something beautiful. The air was heavy with humidity, teenage angst, and something Sakura couldn’t quite name.

The smell of grass filled her nose—the smell of life, of spring, of thousands of organisms warning each other of coming danger.

‘What...?’

‘Oh, err, well. Basically, when grass is cut, it secretes chemicals, right? These chemicals warn other blades of grass that there's a threat nearby. It's quite cool, actually.’

‘The fact that you know that is really sad.’

The scent of the grass triggered something—not quite a memory, but the ghost of one. A vague imprint in the back of her mind. Like something she should have remembered but had forgotten. Like déjà vu from a life she hadn’t lived, with people she couldn’t name, couldn’t picture, but missed anyway.

The smell of the grass... it was screaming. Thousands of tiny protectors trying to warn those around them. Trying to signal the coming danger. Each and every blade sounded an alarm. To humans, it was relaxing. To grass, it was a distress signal.

She wondered if humans were the same. She knew they were.

Micro expressions and subconscious gestures. Diminutive traits and movements that radiated emotion no matter how tightly you controlled them. The subconscious mind always picks up on these behaviours. It was why certain people made you uneasy, and some made you feel safe. It was how interrogators knew when they’d struck gold, and therapists knew when they’d struck a bit too close to home.

‘They’re making you weird... I think we’re going to need a bigger ledger for all the emotional taxes we’re going to be collecting. Especially with the interest we have on Duck Butt’s angst. We should bill Sensei too. Mr. Tall and Traumatized. We'd make the most profit from him... though he’d never pay us. He’s too much of a cheapskate.’

“Sakura! You okay there ?” Naruto's voice brought her back to reality, too the two pairs of eyes resting on her. And the weight that she knew they would one day carry.

Notes:

kudos are love

this hasn't been beta so if you find anything let me know !
this has been sitting in my google docs for ages, so have at it !
toodles