Chapter Text
For shinobi, time was a tricky concept.
Genin knew time as that awkward in-between, caught between the prospect of flashy taijutsu and cool fireballs and the bloody, difficult path to be a ninja remotely near their idolized jounin sensei. Time was surreal with days spent feverishly training and taking D ranks, confidence and tension and arrogance dizzily building up until something inevitably went wrong and knocked them down a peg or five. They blazed through the beginning life of a ninja with all the enthusiasm of children (which they were) and there was never a dull moment in the village after the fresh new genin teams graduated.
Chunin knew time as the agonizing eternities spent alert on patrol. They knew the stretch of chakra exhaustion as they pushed themselves to contend with the true monsters on the battlefield, each moment suspended as they kept limitations and weaknesses in the back of their minds. They knew the ache and drain of searching, hoping for that one opportunity to protect their loved ones and Hokage and perhaps live to tell the tale. They lived the endless grind to make something better of themselves, sharpening the blade until it eventually ground down to a broken stub.
Jounin knew time as scant seconds; the moments as their targets clung to life with sliced arteries, the miniscule opening as confusion and surprise shocked the enemy into stillness, and the way “home” became a mantra as each step blurred into the next even as the trees and surroundings blended into a mishmash of color and nausea and tunnel vision. The periods in between missions seemed both too long and too short, each sense keenly wired to fight or flight with no in-between.
Haruno Sakura, an Academy student of twelve years old, knew time as keenly as a blade.
She spent the months while Haruno Mebuki was away fastidiously going through the scant allowance left behind to live, keeping the household spotless.
Haruno Mebuki was never simply “mother” or “mom”, never the happy Oka-san! custom to every household. She was sharp angles and sharper looks that cut deep to the bone; she was a cutting tongue and an obedient “hai, Okaa-sama, of course.”
Sakura spent the months while Haruno Mebuki was away on a merchant trip living in a haze, alone in a too-large house. She spent hours waiting for Mebuki to return home, dread coiling in the pit of her stomach as she desperately scanned her mother’s chakra, feeling the tense spikes roiling off the figure silently entering the home. Sakura spent eons under her mother’s flat stare, outwardly indifferent to the acerbic words aimed at her every flaw.
(she spent precious minutes at the Academy during recess touching up foundation that covered bruising skin)
It was a normal day at the Academy, just a day before the graduation exam that would catapult the students (children, really,) into the life of a shinobi.
The weather was nice and the students were in high spirits, having finished a lesson reviewing rank D campfire jutsu. Iruka-sensei had an especially difficult time cajoling students back to class before someone set anything important on fire.
Sakura sat at one of the front benches, hands primly folded while staring at Iruka-sensei’s animated lecture on chakra elements and the importance of control. She was a perfect figure of a prim, proper young lady with her spine straight and her legs angled just so.
She looked as if she was concentrating intently on Iruka-sensei’s explanation of how chakra control was paramount for any fire jutsu, but Iruka-sensei had run through the same explanations so many times she could recite them word for word. And they said civilians had trouble with control!
The discussion went to the upcoming graduation exams, and Iruka-sensei hashed out all the minutiae involved with making shadow clones and doing Substitution Jutsu.
Letting her mind wander, Sakura thought about the future after the Academy, putting dull lectures and mundane exams behind her. She thought of the genin team she would be assigned to and the amazing ninjas that they would strive to be. As if she deserved such teammates.
She never planned to become one of those nin that ended up famous (and eventually dead.) Her ambitions to become a name as venerated as the Sannin had died when she was one year into the academy, dreams cut short by sheer reality. (and raised voices behind closed doors and the sound of broken glass.)
Her plans involved a short but sweet stint with her genin team until they passed their Chunin exams, before they gradually fell apart to pursue their Ninja Way. Sakura would be shunted back into a paper ninja’s desk and her two teammates would continue as dedicated shinobi in Konoha’s vast ranks. She would live her life in comfortable obscurity, away from the prying eyes of civilians and shinobi alike.
Her musing was cut short by Iruka-sensei finishing up the lesson, officially ending the school day with a sharp “dismissed!” She watched as Naruto and Kiba all but bolted out the door, the rest of the students filed out in a civilized manner. Sakura was one of the last to leave, movements carefully normal and civilian.
“Have a nice day, Iruka-sensei!” she chirped, passing his desk. Iruka-sensei looked up briefly from his papers and smiled warmly.
“And you too, Haruno-san. It will be rather chilly later on, so wear a jacket if you’re going outside.” With that answer, Sakura nodded cheerfully and continued out the door. She kept the smile carefully fixed on her face and walked on without a care in the world.
She let the congenial smile slip from her face once she was deep into the civilian residential area, mentally preparing herself for another tense evening with her mother in the house. Haruno Mebuki was home for another three days while she prepared for yet another extensive business trip to Suna.
As a prominent Konoha merchant tasked with exporting many of Konoha’s goods in order to keep the peace in the nearby lands, Mebuki was away from home for large chunks of the year at a time. She never stayed long, always needed in some other land to smooth over trade deals and negotiating contracts for the benefit of Konoha.
Mebuki’s most recent trip was a difficult three-month stay at the Land of Iron, and Sakura approached her quaint two-story house with a feeling of lead in her stomach.
Entering the door, she toed off her sandals, setting them neatly against the wall.
“Tadaima,” she called softly, met with silence. Taking a deep breath, Sakura continued into the living room and into the kitchen, her stomach tingling with an ill omen. The calm before a storm, huh?
“Okaeri,” said Mebuki flatly, her eyes leaving the assortment of papers spread on the desk to glance at her daughter with disdain.
Sakura gulped, flinching slightly. She knew that look, the one that meant business had gone bad and her mother was the only one who could fix things. That look never meant well for Sakura, and she had to take another fortifying breath before making another move.
Sakura nodded, her eyes carefully lowered, and made to continue past the table to the stairs where she could escape into her room.
“And what did you do when I was gone? Surely my treasured daughter has been faithfully training for the good of the village, right?” Mebuki asked coldly, folding her hands over her papers and fixing Sakura with a half-lidded stare.
Sakura froze awkwardly between the wall with a window looking into the kitchen and the table. She desperately tried to think of the months she spent alone in the too-large house, trying to recall if she had spent more than her allotted food money, or if she had been caught by a neighbor who had seen something amiss and told her mother.
“I have been passing my exams with full marks, Okaa-sama. My practical exams have been more difficult, but I expect to pass the graduation exam with no problems,” Sakura said stiffly, turning her body so that the wall was at her back. (good ninja don’t let opponents get behind them.)
“Oh? And I suppose your little clones and light tricks can protect the village? You wouldn’t survive walking two steps out the gate.” Mebuki scoffed at Sakura, abandoning her paperwork to dissect her daughter with carefully aimed words. “You’d cower behind your jonin-sensei and let your teammates do the work.”
Sakura said nothing, hiding behind her hair. She felt a ball of shame in her throat; everything her mother had said was true. A useless, fluttery feeling throbbed behind her chest and her breath caught every time she inhaled.
“Look at me.” Mebuki stood up with the grace of a wild panther, stalking around the table to stand directly in front of her daughter.
Sakura dragged another cloying breath into her lungs, her mind screaming at her to obey. (look up, damn it, she won't be satisfied if you don't.) Sakura tried in vain to get her trembling muscles to follow, sliding her eyes up and up until they stopped on her mother’s stern chin and her arm stretching out-
Mebuki grasped her daughter’s chin roughly, yanking Sakura's head up so she stood upright, overbalancing on the balls of her feet.
“Pathetic. You were never meant for this life. Do you understand? You. Are. Not. A. Shinobi.” Mebuki snarled in Sakura’s face, her eyes hard and cold with an underlying gleam of pity.
Sakura’s mind went blank at her mother's harsh tone, briefly forgetting the consequences and struggled in her mother’s grip. Blood roared in her ears and she thought she heard a far-off scream. (no no nO NO NONONO-)
A sharp slap echoed throughout the house, the force of it sending Sakura sideways into a high-backed chair. Sakura crashed hard into the chair, her body moving to cushion her fall too late. Mebuki spared a glance at her daughter as she swept beside the table and continued up the stairway, snagging her papers on the way out. She left Sakura on the floor, reeling from the pain and surprise of her blow.
Sakura choked back a whimper at the sound of her mother's bedroom door slamming shut, her hand coming up to caress her face. Numbly, she picked herself off of the floor.
Drawing her chakra into herself and diminishing her presence, she stumbled silently upstairs five minutes after she was sure her mother would not come out of her room. (it could always be worse.)
Safe behind a closed door, Sakura scanned her body for injuries, standing in front of a cracked mirror in the small bathroom connected to her room. She undressed and looked at the ugly bruises forming on her arms. She followed the bruises all the way down her left side, a particularly sullen patch dotting her left rib cage. Her face looked marginally better with only a split lip and perhaps some light bruising.
After she had looked over every inch of her body for evidence, her mind automatically went to how she could hide the marks and avoid suspicion. (wear a light civilian jacket, foundation for the visible bruises, the swelling will be gone by tomorrow. No one has noticed a thing, and they won't start now.)
Finishing her examination, Sakura stepped into the small shower set against the left side of the bathroom, her mind still unpleasantly numb. She turned the heat up until the water left her skin a light red, mechanically going through the motions of cleaning herself.
She stood under the scalding water until she could no longer feel her thoughts running wild in her head. She stood and waited and willed herself to come back together, shoving every emotion that wasn’t Sakura the Civilian into a corner of her mind so that she could continue living as she always did. (weak, huh?)
Inner Sakura always took over during these moments, when the regular personality she built up eventually cracked and fell apart. Inner was there to pick up the pieces, to put together a façade that could fool any Yamanaka.
Sakura couldn’t remember a time before Inner, a time before she had ceased being Haruno Sakura and instead became Sakura and Inner Sakura. The earliest memory of Inner was her own voice whispering to her in her head, parroting her Okaa-sama’s lessons back to her with a mental prod and slight rasp.
(good girls don’t ask for more, good girls are best seen, not heard, good girls are sugar and spice and everything nice, not sweat and blood and concealed weapons. )
Civilian Sakura was everything that Sakura had been groomed to be since a young age; demure, kind, caring, and soft. She was everything Sakura wasn’t, everything she had to strive to be. She was a meticulously crafted mask, a front that she could hide her less-than-perfect thoughts behind.
Nowadays, Sakura’s selves became less of a black and white, parts melding and blending together in co-dependency. Inner Sakura became a guide, letting Sakura meander through life with her meager booksmarts and acting skills that could fool a lower-end jonin. She, for the most part, was a normal, if unremarkable kunoichi, with textbook katas and a slightly-above average intelligence.
None of it would ever be enough.
Refusing to pick at that particular scab, Sakura finished her shower and went through the calming ritual of preparing for bed. She let the familiar routine carry her along, her thoughts and feelings wiped clean.
Sakura made mental checklists for errand runs as she rifled through her closet, black cotton shorts and gaudy red qipaos folded and forgotten for more sensible ninja attire. Skimming her eyes over standard ninja pants and baggy, flowing shirts, she picked out a pair of cotton pajamas a size too large, the fabric worn thin after years of wear.
As she lay in bed three hours before she usually allowed herself to sleep, the evening’s events caught up to her exhausted mind. Sakura hated it, hated the conflicting swirl of emotions that usually accompanied her mother, one portion of her mind groveling and begging for her mother’s forgiveness and the other indignantly shouting “well wasn’t I good enough?”
I deserved it, right? It’s all my fault, after all.
She felt her eyes burn as she lay trapped by her traitorous thoughts, her eyes dry as she stared up at the lumpy sheetrock in the ceiling. Her thoughts stung more than the physical pain, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t felt before. She didn’t cry, not anymore.
She fought back the snarling in her head, the roaring of shame and inadequacy and hurtfearhatred-!
Her body gave up at around 2 am in the morning, falling into the stifling darkness that was both a curse and a blessing.