Chapter Text
Warning(s): M, gore, character death, implied Sasusaku
It was like the chattering of a thousand leaves as Sakura lay prone upon that flat, craggy plain, helpless to watch as the shimmery shell of Sasuke’s Susano’o—the only shield between them and the glaring rays of the Infinite Tsukiyomi—crumbled and the protection of his Rinnegan vanished in that blinding glare of the moon. A towering figure in long robes and with longer hair blotted out the light above them, the severe cut of Kaguya’s silhouette shrinking as she descended to the ground, bony white hands wrapping around Naruto and Sasuke’s necks before she ascended to the heavens once more, glaring at the reincarnations of her sons.
Sakura’s heart squeezed in her breast, racing to its limit, while the ground split apart around her as tendrils from the God Tree reared back like snakes and slithered forth, hunting for the chakra possessed by the two remaining shinobi. High aloft, the sky was garlanded by branches arcing across like a lattice of countless pods that contained every person in the world, alive, entombed by the Infinite Tsukiyomi.
“Sasuke-kun, Naruto-kun!” Sakura called desperately, rolling on her stomach despite the complete lack of energy, pushing herself to her feet and scrambling to stand. “Kakashi-sensei, help me!”
Scanning the area with terror gripping her heart, her gaze landed on Kakashi, pupils constricting in horror. The soft creaking of the God Tree’s appendages coiled inexorably around the Hatake, compelling the kunoichi to sprint towards him despite the rocky weightiness of her limbs.
“Sensei, please—!” she pleaded, digging her nails into the smooth and waxy bark, desperately trying to pry it open as it only snaked around him tighter, no chakra present to fuel her strength. Sakura gritted her teeth, crying out as she shredded her nails to the quick, blood streaking the bark as she uselessly tried to extricate him.
She had to save him. She had to save Naruto and Sasuke, too!
Sakura could feel Kaguya’s indifferent, opalescent gaze upon the kunoichi, towering above the two stragglers with the carelessness of a god. Naruto and Sasuke cried out as she drained them of vitality, an unholy osmosis borne of the brutal asphyxiation that denied them breath, their bodies withering before Sakura’s very eyes.
The kunoichi screamed wrathfully as she channeled what little chakra she could into the soles of her feet, the only burst of energy she could muster as she launched herself into the air and into the blinding moonlight, tears streaming down her cheeks, teeth bared as she barely managed to grapple for Naruto’s feet. Clumsily, beset by weakness, she clawed her way upon Naruto’s body and latched on to Kaguya’s arm, grappling with the limb with pure hatred burning in her eyes, savagely raking her nails into Kaguya’s flesh while glowering at the goddess who regarded her oddly, as if a gnat were hopping and buzzing across her skin.
“Let them go, let them go!” she shrieked wrathfully, clawing and scraping blindly for purchase, for blood; anything to make Kaguya focus on her, instead. To see only her, to tear her apart with the clumsy viciousness of a child as if her sacrifice would buy Naruto and Sasuke the chance to live.
“Sakura-chan,” Naruto rasped, breath dragging into his lungs, Kaguya’s vice around his neck and Sasuke’s never relenting despite their teammate’s desperate gamble.
“Sakura, don’t…! What are you doing?” Sasuke gasped, choking on a mouthful of blood that dribbled from his lips.
“Let them go!” she sobbed, pounding her fists on Kaguya’s arm, wishing for chakra she could knead when she was beyond her absolute limit.
Like a snake fixated on a fly, Kaguya absently dropped Naruto and Sasuke to land punishingly to the ground, ensaring Sakura around her waist and gripping the kunoichi like a doll. While the Uzumaki and Uchiha were left to battle the God Tree’s roots that hungrily sought them, skittering across the ground like serpents, Kaguya brought Sakura before her eyes with rapt fascination.
It was as though all the fight in her body simply died.
Sakura’s blood curdled in her veins, and her heart hammered into her throat, pupils constricted. She whimpered when Kaguya’s grip incrementally tightened, gasping as the bones in her body began to splinter and stab, enough to bring tears to her eyes. The pressure increased as her organs shifted and strained, panic gripping the kunoichi as Kaguya brutally joined one hand with another, fully encasing her in the goddess’s clutches.
Through the gaps in Kaguya’s fingers, as she was slowly crushed to death, Sakura prayed. That her sacrifice would somehow be enough to rally Naruto and Sasuke to fight back. Even if it meant never being able to show her back to them again, it had to be enough.
The last thing Sakura saw was the world sublimating to whiteness before hers went completely black.
Sakura gasped as she awoke suddenly in the darkness, the squalling of an infant the first thing that rang through her skull. Respiring like a fish, Sakura’s bosom heaved as she fought for breath, her body remembering the last thing she ever saw before she died. The sensation of being crushed, of her bones jostling and breaking, the pressure and pain before it all flashed to darkness.
Jolting herself awake, lurching upright, Sakura tossed back the sweat-soaked sheets and jumped from her bed, sprinting from her bedroom and into the hallway, skidding as she stopped before the room where the muffled cries of a babe emanated. She stared blankly at the grains of the door before she slid it open and stepped inside.
“There, there, mama’s here,” Sakura crooned as she gathered Sarada in her arms, her daughter’s screaming only intensifying. Doing a cursory scan with her chakra, she didn’t detect anything wrong, which brought her tensed shoulders down in relief. Unswaddling her, Sarada’s little arms and legs flailed freely, but her crying abruptly stopped. “Ah, was that it? Too hot, Sara-chan?”
Sarada cooed as she settled with a content sigh against Sakura’s breast, small frame relaxing with a deep exhale. Sakura absently patted her back, rubbing her hand in soothing circles.
Outside the nursery, the lights of Konoha’s changing cityscape twinkled like stars, distant and forlorn. The silhouettes of buildings and trees contrasted darkly against the night sky, yet the stars had been disappearing one by one as the years wore by.
Four years had passed since then. Four years since Kaguya had killed her, and the Infinite Tsukiyomi had devoured the world, exactly as the Rabbit Goddess had wanted. Devouring every human for the Chakra Fruit that would one day be ripe for the taking, to harvest the planet until nothing remained.
“What a funny dream,” Sakura mused to herself as she slowly swayed with Sarada, lulling her back to sleep. Kaguya had crushed her into a pulp, and then she’d woken at the gates of Konoha, bidding Sasuke farewell. She’d been useless to save her best friends, only to awaken to her sensei as the incumbent Hokage and her friends renowned as the village’s beloved heroes.
Outside of the end, there was nothing. No memory of Kaguya’s defeat, of the long march home, of the return to life after the war. Just a victory they’d never earned.
As Sakura stirred from her reverie, with her vision returning to focus, she froze. In the window’s reflection, an ashen man with demonic horns and dizzy purple eyes met hers wistfully, brow dominated by the same Rinne-Sharingan that had gloatingly adorned the celestial that had murdered her carelessly. She sucked in a breath and held it, like prey being stared down by a predator.
“C’mon, Sara-chan, let’s get back to bed,” Sakura hushed, squeezing her eyes shut once, forcing them to open. The window pane was empty once again, the distant view of Konoha’s lights blearily winking at her. Huffing a sigh, she carefully deposited Sarada back in her crib, tugging the blanket over her and pulling the side back up with a faint click.
Lingering in the doorway, Sakura hawkishly listened to the sound of Sarada’s soft breathing for a solid minute, reassured that her daughter had fallen back asleep. Then, she closed the door and left it slightly ajar, tip-toeing back to her room through the dark, lonely hallways.
In the privacy of what was theoretically a shared bedroom, Sakura sank to the ground and hugged herself, willing the sensation of terror away. Wishing for the cold, clammy feeling of fear not to grip her heart so tightly that she could barely breathe.
“Ah, you’re so lucky you had such an exciting time when you were pregnant with Sarada-chan! Not all of us can live such an adventurous life.”
Sitting next to Ino, Sakura’s gaze glazed over from boredom as the two women occupied a bench perched on the high embankment bracketing the Nakano River, sunlight glittering on its surface. By all rights, it was an idyllic day: the sky was a faultless blue with a few cottony clouds, the temperature was warm but comfortable, the trees graced with lacey green leaves beginning to bud in the mid-spring air.
Was it adventurous? None of it even felt real.
Absently, Sakura rocked Sarada’s baby pram like it was a rocker, a meager substitute. The pram creaked slightly like a metronome, back and forth, back and forth. It lulled Sarada, which was more than enough.
“Huh?” Sakura said after a pregnant pause, blinking owlishly. Ino’s face puckered indignantly, peering at Sakura critically.
“Sakura-chan, are you even there? You seem so out of it,” Ino said worriedly a beat later, leaning into her view, hoping to snap her from her rapture. She waved a hand in front of Sakura’s face, the other kunoichi blinking back her listlessness.
“Sorry,” Sakura replied sheepishly. “I think it’s all catching up with me, y’know? I mean, working the hospital is so grueling, but then I get this break when I had Sarada, and even now… It’s demanding and easier at the same time, if that makes sense. It’s like… everything flatlined, but got stressful in another way.”
“It does, actually,” Ino conceded as she glanced down at her swollen womb, cupping the life growing within. “I wonder if I’m going through that now with Inojin. Ah, seriously, Sakura-chan—how do you do it without Sasuke-kun? I’d go crazy if Sai weren’t around to help, ANBU be damned! You must have some superpower.”
“Maybe. But, you know how it is, right? He’s just so busy with work keeping him away from the village,” Sakura deflected, waving off Ino’s point with a smile plastered on her face. “Besides, Lady Fifth was my teacher, so it’s not like I won’t get used to this. Let’s help each other when your time comes, hm?” She rolled her ankle, the toe of her flats tapping Ino’s childishly.
Why did so many of us get pregnant at the same time? I woke up, and it was like this. It doesn’t make any sense.
Giggling girlishly, the sound was forced and scripted, yet Ino didn’t seem to notice. Sobering contently, Sakura let her gaze drift out over the sunset settling on the horizon like a blazing coal in a warm brazier, trying to feel a sense of happiness. To feel more than the crushing weight of nihility inexorably dragging every spark of happiness she tried to feel into an abyss. Pretending to be fine for once and not flood her with a growing pit of despair that spilled icy tar in her chest and splashed her heart.
A lone figure on the opposite shore of the river caused her heart to skip a beat, transfixed. Pinpricks of violet and scarlet jumped out in contrast to the ashy specter, like a smudge of gray against the deeply saturated, vernal backdrop. A drop of ink on a lovely, printed picture.
It was the same old man she’d seen last night, Sakura realized with a chill running the length of her spine.
“So, anyways—when are you due, Ino-chan?”
“I already told you, remember?”
Sakura forced a laugh, glancing at the phantom who had disappeared once more. “Oh, right! Sorry, I guess I’m still out of it, huh?”
Haruno Kizashi - Haruno Mebuki
The gentle scrape of the broom’s bristles against dusty stone became a fascinating study for Sakura, innumerable graves rising and falling in waves on the many little mounds that dotted the civilian cemetery, a world of its own at dusk. Ravens cawed as they flew over the monotonous, colorless gravestones that only became beautiful when they absorbed the light of the setting sun. Fussily arranging the bouquets she’d purchased on the way there, Sakura stepped back to inspect her handwork.
The graves were the same as the rest in the cemetery, set apart only by the flower arrangement she’d put together with Ino’s help; Sakura hadn’t done ikebana since she was a little girl in Suzume-sensei’s ediquette classes, but Ino hadn’t lost her touch.
Aren’t you two the only people I can confide in about this?
“Funny. For a dream that’s supposed to be perfect, I don’t know why he didn’t bother to bring you two back. That would really sell it, wouldn’t it?”
Sinking to her haunches, Sakura hugged her arms around her knees that partially obscured her face, a few tears squeezing involuntarily from her eyes. The warm hues of the sunset deepened the more it sank, promising a dark night that began to encroach from beyond the horizon.
It had been five or so years since Pein’s invasion of Konoha, when an unprecedented attack had entirely leveled the city within seconds, and Sakura had learned the true meaning of power, of the might of a god. It had been an act of vengeance, to repay for all the death Konoha had ushered upon the vulnerable of the world for generations. Dressed as a noble cause, disguised as a war, but to incur the same debt.
Sakura’s parents had been among those forced to pay that blood debt, too insignificant to matter. Ordinary people whose only sin had been the village they’d chosen to live in.
Sakura shifted restlessly, straightening to her feet, knowing there was no point in lingering. Her parents weren’t there, no more real than anything else in this illusion, dead or alive. No better at listening than when they had been in her life.
In a place filled with ghosts, her mind wandered to that of the spectral man, the gentle illusion that had been haunting her for years.
Why, she didn’t know. Nothing made sense in this place, this dream—this nightmare.
Wide awake and restless, Sakura balanced the baby monitor on her stomach, watching the gray, grainy footage of her daughter fast asleep behind the bars of her crib. Sometimes, motes of dust drifted past the lens, reminding her of summertime fireflies. Yet, it begged a question: was she really watching Sarada out of some paranoid breed of protectiveness, or was she looking for something else?
Someone else?
She’d left a small light on in the hallway, excusing it as fussiness and wanting to avoid a stumble or two. Mindfulness to anyone who asked, superstition to those that didn’t.
Sakura sat the baby monitor aside on her nightstand, rising soundlessly from her bed to stand before the window, closing her eyes as if some silly ritual would somehow be the trick to summoning that specter.
Her eyes flew open, and she saw him, ashen and motionless, with three outlandish-looking eyes staring back. Horns sprouted from his brow, short and spiky hair a dim, dusty brown; a long, thin beard cascaded from his chin. Violet eyes like the aperture of a camera honed in on her, and he smiled knowingly.
“Hey, Jī-san— We both know we’re in the Infinite Tsukiyomi, so why don’t you just come out already?” Sakura asked the air, more fearless than she felt. She blinked, and the specter disappeared, only to return as a solidified image that caused Sakura to wheel back at the monkish apparition hovering several feet from the floor, assuming the lotus position like a revered deva.
“I was wondering when you’d notice me,” the specter said wryly, a wizened smile stealing across his craggy face, as serene as a Buddha’s.
“I’ve been noticing you, you know! Jeez, why not do this sooner? This place is seriously weird, especially knowing I’m being wrung out like a sponge to become the next Chakra Fruit!”
“Then there’s no need to explain what has happened. The Rabbit Goddess prevailed, and the hope I had placed in my sons’ reincarnations was for naught,” the apparition sighed, eyes sinking closed. “I am Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
Sakura grimaced at how he disparaged Sasuke and Naruto, folding her arms defensively. Yet, her temper gained a foothold over her and she seized Hagoromo’s beard, giving it a good yank. Hagoromo gaped at her, baffled that anyone would manhandle such a sacred figure so flippantly.
“First of all, don’t talk about Sasuke- and Naruto-kun like that! Second of all,” she continued, releasing his beard; the anger drained from her, “what is the point of showing up here?” She withheld what lingered on her tongue: what could she possibly do? After all, she doubted any prolific ghost would seek the likes of her out. Why not Kakashi, or one of the resurrected Hokage?
“I had believed that the solution lay in satisfying an ancient karmic debt, to end what began so very long ago. However, now I am not so sure,” Hagoromo admitted, his expression pained and worn. “For generations, I have spoken with many of my descendants, Indra and Asura’s transmigrants. For generations, the conflict that began between them evolved and grew to encompass not just them, but the clans begotten from them. The Senju and Uchiha were among the most affected by my mistake.”
“So, that’s your big solution? Just dump your responsibility on someone else and hope for the best?” Sakura surmised with a look of disdain. “You let this continue, unabated, for generations after the fact? Why come to me?”
Somehow, she had an inkling of where this conversation was headed. Sakura reminisced about all the times she’d tried to wedge herself between Naruto and Sasuke’s rivalry that had dovetailed into something unrecognizable. What had once been Sasuke’s genuine despair at not being strong enough to avenge his slaughtered clansmen looked like puerile teenage angst to others. An unstoppable force against an immovable object.
Sakura had learned very early on that a teenage girl’s genuine terror at the idea of her crush becoming an enemy of a militaristic, fascist state wasn’t enough to keep him grounded. Not when his despair was rooted so deeply that it had seeded and flowered long before she’d even met him. It had taken her long enough, but she’d come to understand why bonds of friendship and love were hindrances to him. Why keeping him anchored in Konoha would only cause that darkness to germinate and grow in another direction, like a plant pushing its way through concrete and slowly climbing a water spout in the meager hope for sunlight.
She refused to believe that the Uchiha’s demise was the culmination of this karmic debt, that innocent people had paid the price for a conflict they had little stake in outside of their bloodlines.
Despite her thorniness, Hagoromo continued. “I have countless regrets, Sakura Haruno. Among them is the fact that I betrayed my sons and allowed this conflict to fester without stopping it when my sons were still young. I see now that placing the burden of its demise on them is one of my greatest sins, one I cannot hope to absolve.” Amethyst spirals locked onto her gaze, pleading. “But at the same time, I cannot foist this upon an uninvolved stranger. If it must be done, there must be someone outside of this karmic cycle who was close to them to close this tear and bring it to an end.”
As hard and unyielding as Sakura felt herself become, she could see the glimmer of hope for what it was. Memories of Kaguya’s callous slaughter of her, of people being subdued and entrapped by the God Tree, trickled into her mind. Everything had concluded as a dead end, and there was nothing else. Just to exist in the Infinite Tsukiyomi until everything faded to oblivion, and she was well and truly dead, just like everyone else.
“The karmic cycle was interrupted. Of my descendants, the one known as Madara Uchiha reincarnated with my son, Indra’s essence. Yet, he didn’t fully transmigrate. The cycle was splintered, and Sasuke was born. Instead of one, there were two; the same occurred in Hashirama and Naruto. The karmic chain cannot be mended with this fact present, as it will create another Samsara that will corrupt this one.”
As Sakura listened, the more she became tired of hearing Hagoromo drone on about karma and cycles and fate, but she had to understand. “Where are you going with this? Do you have some kind of plan? I’m not really sure what I can do when a demon tree is gobbling me up.”
Hagoromo smiled, as enigmatic and unreadable as before. “My power is limited compared to what I was once capable of, but I can do this: I will send you to the previous cycle and help you repair it, and together, we might change this sad fate.”
Sakura blinked in surprise, admittedly taken aback. “Wait—the previous cycle? You mean, like, Madara and Hashirama’s time?”
“Yes. As Madara and Hashirama exist on the same link as Sasuke and Naruto, it’s a shorter distance than if I tried sending us back to the time of my sons. If we can repair that link, we can proceed to Sasuke and Naruto’s and mend this cycle’s. Perhaps, we can prevent Kaguya from ever resurrecting.”
“Time travel. What you’re suggesting is literally time travel,” Sakura said, becoming more disbelieving by the minute.
“You’re speaking with the Sage of Six Paths,” Hagoromo replied pointedly, quirking his brow exaggeratedly.
Sakura stared at him judgmentally before she threw up her hands in defeat. “Okay, but what now? I’m on the fast track to death, so how do you plan on shooting me into the past?”
“Lay down,” Hagoromo replied simply, glancing pointedly at her bed like a chameleon eyeing an insect to snatch up.
“Lay down?” Sakura parroted back, eyes flickering towards her bed, frowning. Unfolding her arms, the kunoichi pursed her lips with a sigh. As ridiculous as this all seemed, what other choice did she have? Her only other option was oblivion, and she refused to choose hopelessness.
The bed squeaked softly as Sakura settled herself upon it, heart thumping uneasily in her chest. “You’ll be there when I wake up, right?” Although her tone sounded dubious, she wasn’t filled with as much doubt as she had been initially.
“As often as I can be,” the Sage assured her, waiting for Sakura’s eyes to close.
Everything did fade to black, but for once, Sakura didn’t fear it.