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Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had even practiced.

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

She tried for a second, and then a third time, before running over to him, forcing his arms away from his body.

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

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

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

And broke it.

Naruto gasped to life, panting.

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

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

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

The nurse’s office was a spacious space, its walls painted a cerulean blue. Fractals studded the ceiling, weaving the sunlight. “Hiyashi Akito, at your service,” came a dulcet voice.

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

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

“Mhm, so you have to help him.”

“He just broke his finger?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What I meant, hmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tumbled into each other, their lithe limbs askew.

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

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

She agreed, and yet felt the slightest part of an impostor watching him. How often had she ignored him? Reflected Akito’s vitriol? Would there be a day where he was looking at her, nothing but derision in his voice?

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

“Do I ignore you, Naruto?” she asked.

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

“I get mad at you really quickly,” she continued. ”I’m not as nice to you as I am with other people. I don’t treat you with… respect.” Neither did the nurse, Akito.

Sakura bent at the waist, bowing very low. “I’m sorry, Naruto-san. I’ll do better from now on.”

He bothered her, that was true—aggravated her ceaselessly, but if she was similar to Akito, then she wasn’t who she wanted to be.

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

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

“It’s too serious now, dattebayo.”

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

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

***

Dinner: 10:00 PM, Azuki.

Wear your best outfit, dear.

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

“So, what? Are we going to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was with dismay that she walked on the sidewalks.

She didn’t feel much like ANBU.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A commotion would be heard, yelling.

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

“Look at yourself!”

Sakura covered her giggles with her hand, and made her way to the bin, grabbing the crumpled papers in a fistful. She scanned them over, noting the time written: ‘Ten o’clock, ten o’clock, ten o’clock. There!’ One… Sakura couldn’t believe her eyes.

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

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

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

She wanted to leave, and duck into her bedsheets, and stay there for the rest of the year. She couldn’t stay here. Naruto saw her departing, and followed after her.

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

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

On him, the mob descended.

Sakura wasn’t aware of entering her room. Somewhere in the knowing, her heart had shattered, and took its mission to choke her. She undressed sobbing, crawling into bed. She wasn’t sure if she could ever stop.

‘Why would you do this, Otou-san? Did me and Okaa-san not love you enough?’

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

She wanted him to say that he didn’t love Akito, and he didn’t write the poems. She wanted him to be by her side, and stroke her hair.

But he didn’t come. Sakura fell into a deeply troubled sleep.

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

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

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

That was until her father.

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

She wanted to stop crying, but found herself unable to.

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

“Obito,” she said through her sniveling.

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

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

They passed by Madara’s now familiar presence, through the twists and turns of the passage, and into the forest. They delved into the trees, branches cracking underfoot. “Where are we going?” asked Sakura.

“To the lake. I made something for you. It was meant to be an apology for being dumb when we were playing Karuta. I’m not done with it yet, but you can try it out now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled, yet her eyes were somber: “I’m scared.”

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

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

It was on the tip of her tongue to reprimand him, for it was early in the morning, and his exuberance was better fit for the afternoon. “Better,” she admitted.

Would she rather lead a dreary life? Certain words, or gestures he’d say or do set off a visceral reaction within her—but she’d find that mid-line.

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

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

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

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

‘Neither sounded good,’ she thought.

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

“What are you writing?”

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

“You looked really serious,” he observed.

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

He looked at her for a moment longer, before sighing, turning back around. So handsome! He even talked with her! She fanned herself.

Oh, Sasuke…

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

Why was she even worried? This was going to go fantastically, she was sure. Everything was going to be fine.

She went home not with cheer per say, but relief. She informed Okaa-san that she had something very important to tell her, and that they had to wait for Otou-san.

Bemused, she signed her acquiesce.

Otou-san came home early today, for once. ‘Was he always late because of Akito?’ thought Sakura. The notion unnerved her.

“Our daughter has something important she wants to tell us,” said Okaa-san. They were lying on the sofa, the television on, featuring a popular actress, embroiled in a litigious scandal.

“The room’s your stage, my dear,” Otou-san said, grinning.

Sakura walked in front of them, her hands bundled in her dress. On performance, she found her anxiety a bedmate. “Okaa-san,” she said, swallowing, “I saw Otou-san yesterday.”

“At work?”

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

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

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

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

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

Inexorably, it moved.

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

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

***

Hand seals, and their correlation with genjutsu: