Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, mama’s looking for you.”

The voice was soft and gentle, blending with the wind that caressed Sakura’s face and rustled the leaves where she’d tucked herself after climbing the lower branches earlier that day. A smile lit up her face as her brother effortlessly jumped onto the same branch, but it faded just as quickly as he drew closer and the bruising around his wrists came into view.

They never fully healed, the skin perpetually mottled with fresh purples and fading yellows. At least they had changed the chains, the new ones didn’t tear at his skin anymore. Despite it all, her older brother’s smile was warm and genuine as he ruffled her hair, coaxing a giggle from her.

“You found me!” Sakura shuffled forward, closing the gap between them to claim the hug she’d waited all day for.

“Of course I did, bunny.” His chuckle rumbled against her ear.

She lingered in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, before pulling back to sit cross-legged. Her fingers combed her bangs into place as she studied him. No new bruises today.

Kimimaro was undeniably a beautiful kid and everyone knew that, even the brutes couldn’t say otherwise. His hair was always pristine, even when he fought, which should be impossible. Sakura herself seemed to always have things stuck to hers even when being careful. His crimson markings stood out against his fair skin and around his emerald green eyes, that unique shade, same as her own. A shared anomaly that set them apart within a sea of murderous black. Well, that and the shade of her hair.

“We shouldn’t stay long.” gaze drifting toward the compound in the distance, knowing they were alert and waiting for their return “Mama’s looking for you.”

Sakura crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks with all the defiance a nearly-six-year-old could muster.

“She’s not my mom. And I don’t wanna!” she turned her head to look her brother straight in the eyes “I wanna stay with you for a bit, aniki. They’ll lock you up as soon as we get back!” she whined, lower lip wobbling and emerald eyes filling with warm tears.

Kimimaro sighed and Sakura recognized her win.

“I don’t want them to be angry with you again, bunny.” He gently wiped the tears that were threatening to fall with the clean part of his kimono.

She shrugged.

“She’s always angry.” Sakura muttered, low enough that only the leaves might hear.

She was an observant child and she knew her brother better than anyone, so when his face darkened, brows drawing together and a dry cough rattled his body, she took notice. Instead of sharing, he remained silent for a moment longer.

“Has she done anything to you?” she didn’t miss how his tone was different than what he usually used with her.

She shrugged once more.

“Same as always.”

Her brother’s lips thinned, then smoothed out after a deep breath.

“I wish I could help.” His voice frayed at the edges. “I’m supposed to protect you, you’re my little sister.”

Sakura reached for his hand, heart full, stomach twisting.

“I think she likes it.” Her own brows furrowed “Being cruel.” She clarified.

Kimimaro didn’t argue, couldn’t. He knew she was right.

“Why are they all so angry, aniki?”

“I don’t know.” Was all he could tell her, squeezing her hands “The other kids still giving you a hard time?”

She flopped backward into the foliage with a huff. The clan kids were a nightmare. Worse than the adults, because as crazy as they were, they didn’t care much to harass a young girl (except for their mother and her partner), but the older kids had no such qualms. They had relentlessly bullied her for her different appearance and softer demeanor. In a clan filled with dark hair, eyes and hearts, someone as bright as herself and her brother stood out like sore thumbs.

Kimimaro was feared because of his talent with the Shikotsumyaku, which was why the chief kept him cage bound, only let loose to fight or to come find her. Sakura, however, was still an enigma. Half Kaguya, half-unknown. Her mother, who she had loved before understanding what she had done to the man who had been their father, looked every bit like Kimimaro, her hair just as white, eyes also green, though darker, like her rotting soul. Sakura, apart from the eye color, looked nothing like any of them, and no one knew what to expect of her. Would she also inherit the Shikotsumyaku like Kimimaro and their mother? If so, would she grow up to be as talented with it as her brother? If not, what use was she?

On the off chance she would, they kept her around, made her practice with bone daggers every day and made sure to send her brother to find her every time she slipped away. She had yet to receive her ceremonial markings, something every Kaguya received at their tenth birthday (but her mother insisted six was enough for her, as it had been for Kimimaro), maybe they would stop seeing her as an outsider once she had the dots tattooed on her forehead for everyone to see. Until then, she hid her bare forehead under bangs and shadows.

“Sakura?” her brother called her and when she still refused to answer, he poked her on the ribs, sparking a squeal and a giggle.

“They’re also the same.” She finally answered, batting his hand away, a twitching smile still dancing on her lips, eyes following every movement of her brother’s hand, making sure he wouldn’t catch her unguarded again “Do you think they’ll stop once I get my markings?”

His hand moved, but slow and purposeful towards her bangs, brushing it aside, thumb grazing her unmarked skin.

“Maybe.” He nodded, watching her for a long while before speaking again “Have you been practicing the exercises I told you about?”

“Yes.” She perked up, eager to shift the mood.

“And?”

“I can feel it, the chakra, vibrating just underneath my skin! Just like with that musician you showed me, the one who made music with crystal glasses.” She beamed at him.

It was one of her fondest memories, from before their mom killed their dad; before her brother was placed in a cage for an undetermined time by their mom’s new partner; and before she hated most of her clan.

Kimimaro watched her, cocking his head to the side, a small smile growing in his face.

“That’s impressive.” He nodded “You’re young, so I didn’t know if you’d be able to do it alone.”

“You did it younger!” She pouted.

“I had help.” He chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes “I’m proud of you, bunny.”

Her heart filled with warmth as his hand stopped atop her head. All she wanted was to make her brother proud of her and grow up strong enough to help him break away from his cage, then avenge her father’s death together.

“Wanna see?” she offered, giddy.

“Of course!” he agreed quickly “But after that we go, deal?”

Her smile fell into a grimace, but Sakura knew not to push too much, lest they got angry at Kimimaro too. It had never happened before, but the possibility haunted her.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

The quietest time in the Kaguya compound was always at dawn. Mostly everyone was still asleep, so Sakura slipped through the stillness, unseen as shadows stretched like skeletal fingers across the barracks. She used that time to go see her brother, bring him extra rations, whisper plans, and to train alone in the dew-damp woods before the clan awoke. Her mother slept like the dead unless bloodshed stirred or when they were moving the camp. The chief, though, rose earlier, prowling at first light, shoving Sakura into the dirt whenever their paths crossed and then leaving while cackling like the maniac he was.

Over the years, Sakura realized a couple of truths about her clan. Some she wanted to scrub away from her mind, while others were interesting enough that could be used in the future and so she held tight to those. She had a mental list and some of the topics were:

1. Sleep before sunset (unless she wanted to hear the feral grunts of “family bonding”).
2. Never ask why half the warriors shared the same crooked nose or the same pear-shaped mole behind their ear.
3. Despite being basically barbarians, the clan’s people were as close knit as an incestual community could be.

She learnt that word from a book she managed to swipe off a camp after battle, while people were mainly concerned with looting the dead and celebrate the win. Kimimaro had almost fainted when she threw the expression in a clansman’s face. Luckily, the man had been too drunk to pay any importance to her words.

     4. Pocket coins from the loot ledger.

Once they noticed how sharp her mind was, they had somehow dubbed her “the little accountant,” never noticing her growing hoard. It was too easy to pilfer some of it. Not that she spent it, Sakura had plans for that money.

5. Strength was bone-deep or worthless.

They were a mighty small clan, all of them fighters, but not all used chakra and fewer were able to use it well. Only a dozen could currently use the Shikotsumyaku and none like her brother.

6. Within the clan, only those considered worthy received the ceremonial markings, the rest was discarded like nothing more than a broken vase.

Kimimaro had manifested the kekkei genkai younger than she was now, then sculpted into a weapon by the previous chief before he was killed by the current one. Sakura? She had a couple months left. No one really trained her. No one dared, not when her parentage hung like a question mark over her pink hair. But her brother stole moments: midnight spars in moonlit clearings after the pair finally learnt to pick the chain locks that bound him to his cage, makeshift weighted bands strapped to her wrists and ankles, his voice ever patient as he corrected her stance.

“Feet wider.” He nudged her heel with his toe. “Balance wins fights before fists do.”

“I know.” She gritted out, hands trembling with the weighted cuffs.

“Prove it.”

His strike came without warning, a controlled jab toward her ribs. Rationally, Sakura knew that Kimimaro would never truly hurt her, but instinct is hard-pressed to be contained. She pivoted, using her momentum to strike a low kick to the side of his knee, a move he had taught her not too long ago. Kimimaro was fast and experienced and sidestepped just enough that the kick missed completely, leaving Sakura to scramble not to give him too wide of a berth to strike back.

She completely failed at that, having her base foot swiped from under her and falling hard on her ass. Her tailbone hitting dirt hard enough to rattle teeth.

Her brother chuckled.

“Mean!” She glared up, pride bruising more than her butt.

“Sorry, bunny, but they’ll be a lot worse than this. Enemies won’t pull punches, so you gotta be ready.” He plucked a twig from her disaster of a braid.

She whined.

“Why can’t we train the Shikotsumyaku instead?” She gave him her best puppy eyes, though tired as she was it probably just looked like she was having a tummy ache. “My chakra control’s better now! I could-”

“No.” The word landed like a tombstone.

Her throat tightened. He’s hiding something and hiding things is what adults do, not Kimi.

Kimimaro patted her head affectionately, warm smile in place, but his eyes held a reluctance Sakura didn’t like one bit.

“It doesn’t work like that, bunny. Even if we tried,” he softened, tugging her to her feet, “there’s no time. Not before…” His thumb brushed her unmarked forehead, words left unspoken.

Immediately her expression fell. She knew the clock was ticking.

“Come on, we should go back.”

“No!”

“We have to, bunny. It’s late already.”

“But I’ve got a new move!” she protested as he gathered their gear. “A good one!”

“Tomorrow.” He crouched, offering his back.

Stubbornly she refused, deciding to drag her feet forward, sulking for a whole minute before finally giving in and climbing on, cheek pressed to his threadbare collar. His heartbeat hummed a familiar lullaby as the compound’s torches swallowed them whole.

Alive, alive, alive.

Sakura woke up to loud talking just outside the house-tent and that didn’t bode well, because it didn’t sound at all like a fight. She slinked off her sleeping bag as quietly as a mouse. Small feet padding across the junk her mother liked to keep and closing the distance towards the open entrance, using the fading shadows to hide herself from view.

“Tomorrow we'll make a night attack against Kirigakure. Since they are preparing to flee from another incident, now is our perfect chance to show them how fearful we are! Let them know what it means to fear the Kaguya Clan!” the chief’s voice boomed, followed by loud cheering.

“It’ll be the new warriors first time showing off their might.” Her mother’s voice was bored “I’d like to witness it, not be left behind to look for the markless children again.” Sakura knew it was only her, among all the Kaguya, who didn’t bare a mark yet. Their breeding rate was as much in decline as their sanity, especially because only a small few decided to reproduce with someone from outside of the clan, to ‘muddle their pureness’.

The chief grumbled, clearly annoyed at his partner.

“Not a problem. Woman, fetch the girl, we’ll do this right now. That way she can either join us or be dealt with.” Sakura’s heart dropped to her knees, a ringing sound muffled everything else around her, but she could still make out a couple of words as she scrambled away from the tent opening “You. Get the rest to prepare the camp for a move and the elders to prepare food for our warriors!”

Before Sakura could escape the tent to find Kimimaro, strong hands held her and soon she wasn’t actively paying attention as she was dressed, like a porcelain doll, in the white ceremonial kimono with deep red obi and her hair split right in the middle in a zigzag pattern, then bound into tight braids, leaving her unmarked forehead bare for all to see.

Everything happened in such a haze that it felt like between one blink and the other Sakura was squaring up against a man thrice her size and armed with a rusty blade. They gave her no weapon, she was supposed to be the weapon, supposed (and expected) to awaken the Shikotsumyaku. She recognized him as one of the lowest ranking fighters of the clan, not able to use chakra, though still a hell of a lot more experienced than her. His skin littered in scars making it plain obvious the guy was a survivor while Sakura herself was nothing more than a little girl with big dreams and a brother locked in a cage, who probably would kill the man in a fit of rage if she didn’t do it first. And he’d be praised by it too.

Maybe that’s what it’d take for them to unbound him from that cage for good.

Maybe it was better that he wasn’t there to witness this, though judging by the volume of the yelling and the ceremonial chanting, he’d probably be able to guess what was happening.

I am not a broken thing to be discarded. She chanted in her mind as she spread her feet wider. And I am not letting my brother alone in this madness.

The man charged, a rabid dog lunging for a cornered little bunny.

Sakura held her breath, heart picking up pace quicker than the man throttling towards her. The iron weights, like a brand against her skin and she could feel the sweat gathering underneath it. Her eyes darted to the sides, instinctively looking for a way out, only to notice the crowd had thickened into a wall of leering faces and claw-like hands.

No escape. No mercy.

The only way out was through.

Her eyes swiveled back, the man was almost on her and behind him the chief loomed atop his viewing platform, eyes wide in a maniac grin, a brief sparkle shining in her vision before her opponent’s shadow swallowed it. His rusty blade struck forward towards her chest, he was looking to finish this quickly, to dishonor her.

Sakura’s stomach lurched. Focus.

Sakura sidestepped, but the ceremonial kimono, too long and too stiff, snared her sandal. Fabric tore and Sakura lost her footing, as well as a crucial second. Steel bit into her ribs. Pain flared, sharp and bright, the clan’s cheers swelling into a feral chorus as she cried out. Chakra sparked in her legs, raw and untamed. She leapt, sandals skimming the dirt in the clumsy arc Kimimaro had once teased as her ‘bunny hop’.

His face and ghostly voice chided in a flashing memory.

“Fighting is like dancing, bunny.” Kimimaro repeated to her, twin bone blades secure in his hands like extensions of himself “You can dance even with someone who does not know the steps. Create your own choreography and guide them to follow it.” He turned on his axis, blades moving in precise arcs, cutting the very wind before slowing down, swinging up to block a threat she couldn’t see, then joining in a quick spin, a deathly spiral. Sakura was forever in awe of her brother’s grace.

“Stop running, gaki!” the man yelled, spit trickling down his face, his bloodshot eyes glued to her.

“Kill her!” another voice boomed and echoed in the crowd.

Unbidden, tears flooded in her eyes muddling her vision and she blinked them away as quickly as she could. Her very insides were shaking in fear and adrenaline. She was supposed to have more time to prepare for this! She wasn’t ready.

“Look!” someone in the crowd shouted and the man, the rabid dog hunting her down straightened his spine, predatory smile stretching the scars on his face and stopping his advancing for a brief moment.

“Look.” He barked a demand for her, gesturing to her right where, from the corner of her eye, more glinting sparkled in her vision.

She shouldn’t look, shouldn’t take her eyes off her opponent, but somehow her gut knew what was happening. Her mother’s cackle was what gave it away and Sakura couldn’t stop her eyes from sliding sideways towards where the woman dragged a muzzled and bound Kimimaro towards the viewing platform.

Like an unspoken consensus the fight stopped to wait until the boy was secured up there, reinforced chains around his wrists, ankles and neck. Primely placed to witness the ceremony. Sakura couldn’t take her eyes away from the terrified emeralds of her brother’s. The panic in there matched her own, the rattling of his chains echoed the thudding of her heart and his muffled screams serving as a conductor to the crowd cheering.

It was like she could hear his voice as clear as her own ragged breath. His desperate eyes conveying to her a single-minded plea: Survive!

With a curt and sharp breath Sakura looked away. Curling her hands into tight little fists, feet spreading to even her balance, the pain flaring form her injury serving to clear her head and sharpen her focus. She couldn’t die in front of Kimimaro, she’d never forgive herself for it.

And if she did, then Sakura would never be able to avenge her father’s death.

Pooling as much chakra as she could to coat her legs, Sakura lunged forward, roaring like a small cub learning to stand on its own might in the face of a larger beast.

She weaved through her opponent’s wild slashes, some nicking her skin, but none breaking her manic focus. Twisting right and kicking his knee from behind, disrupting his stance long enough for her to pivot on her axis and put all her strength into smacking the iron weight around her ankles on the man’s hand, forcing him to drop the sword.

The crowd roared, the air vibrating along with their hurrahs.

She sucked a hasty breath as the crowd tilted sideways, slimy hands pouncing faster than a snake, curling around her neck. The man lifted her in the air with ease, holding her aloft, fingers constricting her airway and spraying tiny black dots in her blurred vision.

For a second, she went into full panic mode, clawing and kicking without strategy, anything to loosen the hold on her neck, eyes blind to his satisfied smirk. No matter how much she squirmed, his fingers were like a cuff around her throat.

Exactly like the one around her brother’s neck. Or the weights on her wrists and ankles.

That half-second of insight was enough and Sakura channeled whatever strength she had left to use the weights around her wrist to bludgeon the man’s nose in. The spray of blood hit her face, and his pained grunt tinkled in her ears as his hand lost its vice grip around her and Sakura sucked in a wheezed breath, hitting the ground hard, her entire skeleton shaking with impact, the weighted cuff falling from her hand.

The clan erupted.

The man roared, backhanding her so hard one of her braids unraveled. Blood trickled from her split lip, metallic and warm, but air flooded her lungs and that was enough to bring clarity to her mind.

She rolled as he stomped. Her arm stung from the edge of the blade he had dropped earlier, and Sakura didn’t pause to think, reaching for it as the man made to kick her. Her chakra flickered, raw and spent, but she forced it to surge one last time with another burst, she dodged the brunt of the hit, feeling it catch one of her fingers, bending it into an unnatural direction.

He was larger and heavier, while Sakura was smaller, limber and faster. As he fell back to his stance, Sakura snaked around him, blade firmly held in her non-injured hand. For the briefest of moments, it felt like an extension of her and as she twisted and turned away from his hands and punches, Sakura managed to slash both his achilles tendons in a swift movement of her weightless hand.

The rabid man fell to his knees, the crowd’s roar got louder, like a crescendo.

Sakura caught a brief glance of her brother’s form, chained and slumped on the platform, forced to watch. There was so much fear and pleading in his eyes.

Survive.

This was her chance to prove to him that her spirit, like his, was forged in the same unbreakable resolve. She knew what she had to do. Sakura grabbed her stunned opponent by the hair, her broken finger sending a sharp pain through her already throbbing body.

The crowd fell silent.

Anticipation filled the air.

If she stopped to think this through, she’d never get it done, so without a pause, Sakura lifted the rusty sword and slashed the man’s neck.

It wasn’t fluid, neither was it clean.

It was jagged and slow, but it was enough. He gurgled and clamped a hand over the cut, but the blood never stopped flowing, even after he fell to the ground it kept pooling around him.

The roar that followed was manic and savage.

“Now, that’s a Kaguya!” the chief’s voice boomed over the others.

Her body trembled with exhaustion and Sakura swayed on her feet. With the adrenaline beginning to wash out of her system, the pain on her side became harder to ignore and the tears flooded her eyes.

Maybe it was a rare merciful act, or more likely her mother didn’t want to deal with her, but the woman unshackled Kimimaro, who all but flew towards Sakura, catching her just before she hit the ground.

“You did it, bunny.” His voice wobbled just like his lower lip, eyes filled with pain and pride, not a drop of disappointment in sight.

“It hurts.” She whined as he carried her away from the cheering mob.

“I know, I’m sorry.” His hands were gentle and careful with her injuries, his feet quick to take them into the hut, towards the limited medical supplies the clan held.

“I tried to dance like you.” She murmured, voice slurred, breath coming as a pained wheeze.

“I saw.” He assured her, gently placing her over her sleeping bag “You did a great job, bunny, now keep your eyes open and focused on me, yeah?”

She blinked, eyelids feeling as heavy as lead.

“I’m tired.”

“I know, bunny, but please make an effort.” He urged her, opening her ceremonial robes and assessing the cuts on her “I’ll have to stitch this and it’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be quick, okay? I promise.”

She grumbled but managed a half nod. She trusted her brother.

“And this…” he took her hand in his, turning it around to check her bent finger which was sending jolts of pain every time her body twitched “I’ll have to re-set it.” His eyes found hers.

If only she had the Shikotsumyaku, she could just crack it back into place, no skin off her back.

“Can’t we do it later?” she risked the question, knowing full well that it didn’t work like that.

“I’m sorry bunny. I have to.”

He did a quick job, as promised. Gave her a piece of clothing to bite on as he worked, first cleaning her cuts with alcohol, then using a thin bone of his to stich it close. Kimimaro gave her a brief pause before he moved to her finger, offering her some water and wiping the sweat and gore stuck to her face. He then pulled a bone from his wrist, and after setting her finger in place and apologize profusely as Sakura cried out, he used it as a makeshift splint.

“There we go, bunny.” He sat down, adjusting her head to lay on his lap and caressing her face “You’re okay now.”

She just whined and curled closer into his warmth and familiar smell.

Later that day Sakura would be taken back out for the elders, despite their bickering about her lack of the Shikotsumyaku, to tattoo her markings on her forehead and around her eyes like a true Kaguya.

The chief seemed content enough, some elders complained about not witnessing a Shikotsumyaku awakening, others glared at her from a distance. Sakura herself was bone-deep tired and aching, the skin of her forehead and around her eyes stung with the fresh ink.

Beside her, Kimimaro was a solid rock of support, a watch dog ready to bite any incoming threat. No one seemed willing to approach him with chains. The only one to walk towards them was their mother. A vile smile stretched on her face, a cup of ale on her hand and a sway to her feet that betrayed her intoxication.

Kimimaro knew better than to attack the woman before all the clan and next to his already injured sister. She was one of two people he’d never dare to attack so publicly. But he could glare, so he did.

The woman bent down, ale sloshing in her cup, some of it dripping to the ground. Her hand, made of long fingers and nails, reached to brush Sakura’s hair aside, exposing the fresh tattoos.

“The markings of a killer.” She smirked, nails tracing the edge of the ink, voice dripping with venomous pride “Such a clever girl.” She purred, face getting closer to them, her breath reeking of alcohol “Just like you father.”

Sakura flinched like she had been slapped and Kimimaro held her, his own hands trembling. Their mother cackled, satisfied with their reactions, straightened her spine and left without another word.

If Sakura cried herself to sleep that night, no one but Kimimaro was there to witness it, everyone else too involved in the celebration to care that he wasn’t caged and that the main reason for the party had left unnoticed.

Chapter Text

Once the rhythmic drums came to life, Kimimaro knew something was amiss. The clan only used the old instruments in specific moments such as when a Kaguya was born, when they were celebrating the latest extermination of a foe, the forging of a union, or when a Ceremony was to take place. There was not a single pregnant person in the clan for now, all the pairs were either too young for a proper union or already wed and the last fight had been about a week ago.

That only left one option, and it made his stomach churn.

He paced in his much-too-small cage, looking for the best place to crack open with his Shikotsumyaku, every cheer from outside pushing him closer to the edge of his sanity. He chose a spot mostly at random, going for one of the bars rusting on the bottom. In a split second he had a sharp edge of a bone protruding from his hand, carving at the bar.

All their careful planning to escape their clan and they failed to consider that the Ceremony could happen before Sakura’s 6^th birthday. To be fair, Kimimaro had never heard of this happening before, didn’t even think of it as a possibility. It was a practice that only ever occurred on the kid’s 10th birthday, Sakura and himself being the only exceptions he knew about because of his mother’s insistence with the chief.

For years they had gathered money, information, knowledge and anything else that might help them survive once they made it out. And they would make it out. They still could. Kimimaro would not let his sister live among these sadistic beasts that were their clansmen more than it was absolutely necessary. She was too bright for that, too kind to be forced into their senseless killing sprees and too curious to live in such ignorance.

Their original plan was to wait until closer to Sakura’s birthday, so they could gather as much provisions as possible. He wanted to leave before her Ceremony because he didn’t want her to be marked. Didn’t want people to look at her and only see a killer. He wanted her to have every possibility in life to do whatever she wanted. Become a chef, a hairdresser, a gardener, teacher, even a kunoichi if that’s what she decided.

All he wanted for his baby sister was for the choice to be hers.

The idea was that when the clan moved to an inevitable confrontation and their mother was left behind to ‘watch over’ Sakura as was custom, Kimimaro would use the fighting as a distraction to come back to camp unseen, he’d challenge their mother to a duel if he had to. He was confident he’d win (at the very least he could buy her time to escape) and then he’d run away with his sister. They even had a specific place in mind, picked from a history book Sakura got in a raid: Uzushiogakure.

No one would look for two kids among the ruins and ghosts of a fallen city on an abandoned island.

Now they’d need to adapt the plan, but he wouldn’t give up on it. They could still go through with it, he just needed to make sure she’d succeed in her Ceremony. Maybe he could cause a ruckus to distract the crowd and shoot a bone projectile into her opponent’s head. Or something like that. Anything for her to survive.

He just needed to get out of this sage-damned cage!

Kimimaro changed the bone structure to form a serrated blade, that should make his job easier. He was almost there when he heard some lazy steps and froze. He retracted the blade into his flesh just as his mother’s voice dripped into the cell.

“Darling boy.” His mother crooned, face emerging with a mocking pout “It seems your sister’s ready for her Ceremony.”

They both knew this was far from the truth. Sakura’s birthday was not for a couple of months still. He kept his mouth shut, though. If their mother was here and not there watching, there was a reason behind it. Judging by the sounds he could hear from outside, the fight had just begun.

“I think she’d be ecstatic if you were there to witness it.” A smile curled in her lips, that twisted happiness the siblings were well familiar with “Would you like that?”

He knew it was a trick, but he walked willingly into the trap. Staying here, not only would be maddening, but it also wouldn’t be helpful at all.

“Yes, mama.” He nodded.

“Splendid!” she clapped her hands, then reached behind her, bringing forth a set of chains and cuffs different from the ones he was usually bound with “I had these made just for you, darling.” She told him as she instructed him to step further into the cage and turn around “They’ll make sure you’re only there to watch.” Her breath tickled his ear as she clicked the cuffs shut.

The effect was immediate, like a blocker, his access to his chakra was gone, and with it his Shikotsumyaku.

Kimimaro was suddenly at his twisted mother’s mercy.

Worst of all, she never had any to begin with.

Watching a panicked Sakura squaring up against a man twice Kimimaro’s own size, getting beat up and cut, strangled and broken tore his heart apart. Never before had he felt such visceral fear and hopelessness as he was forced to watch, bound to chakra-repressing chains.

When she clumsily slashed the man’s neck, Kimimaro had a roaring storm of feelings raging inside him. He was so damned proud of her for surviving on her own, but he knew what it meant. More than just earning her Kaguya markings.

They would expect more of her now.

More killing, more viciousness, more, more, more.

Like him, Sakura would have to live with the weight of what she did every time she looked herself in the mirror, she’d be called to participate in every single future raid of theirs, she’d be forced to kill again and again in the name of their clan, whether she agreed with them or not and if she was to refuse or grow too strong, a life in a cage expected her.

Their window to escape grew narrower by the minute.

He’d be the first to admit that staying away from the chakra-blocking chains was the last thing on his mind when he firmly refused to be moved from Sakura’s side post-Ceremony. They’d have to kill him to move him away, to make him abandon her when she needed him most. That had nothing to do with the chains, specifically.

But then he heard it. The call to prepare the clan for an incoming fight, that they’d be travelling to Kirigakure. By the Sage, if this wasn’t the chance they’d been waiting for. It was coming too late, but he’d take it, nonetheless.

While he cradled his sleeping sister in his arms, spent after the fight, the marking and all the crying, Kimimaro planned.

One thing no one could say about the Kaguya Clan was that they weren’t efficient.

Even after a whole day of festivities after Sakura’s Marking Ceremony, it took them just a couple of hours at the crack of dawn to pack their entire camp into large sealing scrolls that were then sealed into smaller, easier to carry, ones. Few of them knew how to properly use said scrolls, their clan was not one known for their fuuinjutsu knowledge (or any other type of jutsu other than taijutsu for that matter), but what little Kimimaro learnt with the previous chief, he made sure to teach Sakura once she managed enough control over her chakra.

All their stolen things: the books, money, clothes and provisions, were neatly arranged and sealed away before the clan even stirred from their drunken sleep. Quiet as a shadow, Kimimaro roamed around camp, gathering all the medicine he could find, some kitchen utensils, bathroom essentials and anything else he deemed to be useful.

By the time they were on the road, he had already given Sakura their signal, the one that meant it was time.

His resolve to see it through intensified every time his gaze landed on his not-yet-six-years-old sister with all the cuts and bruises on her arms and legs, the makeshift splint made with his own bone on her finger, her half-shut left eye and how she was hobbling because of the injury on her ribs.

At least the journey wouldn’t be too long, they had been stationed at the very edge of the Land of Water already, so they should be there by midday. Maybe a bit earlier if their clansman’s eagerness for bloodshed grew as rapidly as it normally did.

Nothing got the Kaguya Clan as worked up as the promise of blood.

Sakura had woken up feeling like shit. Her body ached, her stomach grumbled, her markings itched and even her chakra felt lethargic after being pushed to its limit.

Everyone was treating her differently though. Her clansmen were being ‘nice’, her bullies were glaring from afar but not daring to approach and the chief had given her an extra ration of food before the journey, patting her head. Kimimaro treated her like a baby, which she both hated and enjoyed, ready to help her at any moment her feet faltered a step. And they faltered plenty. Her sides hurt to breathe, to walk and to talk, the stitches pulling painfully every time she turned to talk with Kimimaro.

None of it mattered though, because he had given her the signal and she couldn’t help the giddiness and alertness that filled her insides. Perhaps some of the other clansmen had interpreted it as an eagerness to fight, thus the strange welcoming to their rankings. She didn’t mind, at least no one was asking questions.

As they made their way into Kirigakure Sakura had to hold the urge to facepalm or hide away in shame. They were right in the middle of a village filled with shinobi and were being loud, boisterous and not at all tactical in their approach. Not that she expected anything different, not after how many times her mother had dragged her to watch a fight when they were supposed to be back at the camp. That was how Sakura knew how lethal Kimimaro was.

She never told him. She knew he didn’t wish for her to witness him like that, but she had a feeling he suspected. And she learnt not to see him any differently, it was that or be killed. Besides, he remained as careful and gentle with her as ever.

He was always as quiet as a mouse, unlike the rest of their clansman that laughed and cheered like hyenas. Much like how they were doing now.

One second the chief was shouting to the winds about how the people of Kirigakure should learn what it meant to fear the Kaguya Clan, the next they had acidic mist spraying towards them, bones clashing with swords, blood dripping from both sides and a fracture of an open to escape

Sakura clung to Kimimaro, who worked overtime to defend her when a man hesitated to strike her. She was a child, clearly worse for wear and forced to be there. With a huff and doubt shining in his eyes, the man jumped to attack another Kaguya and Kimimaro took the chance.

Sakura’s ribs screamed with every step, but she bit her tongue until copper flooded her mouth. Silence was their only ally now. Kimimaro’s hand clamped her shoulder, steering her through the chaos. Acidic mist seared her lungs as Kiri shinobi materialized from the fog, blades and hitai-ate glinting.

“Down!” Kimimaro yanked her behind a crumbling wall just as a bone spear impaled the ground where she’d stood. A clansman lunged for them, his face twisted in bloodlust, saliva dripping.

“Traitors!” he roared.

Kimimaro’s bone shield erupted barely a second before impact. The clash reverberated through Sakura’s teeth.

“Run!” he hissed, shoving her toward an alley.

She stumbled, stitches tearing as rancid mist swallowed the street. Behind her, wet crunches and gurgles echoed, Kimimaro was buying her time.

Immediately a Kiri-nin dropped from the rooftops, katana aimed at her throat.

Move. Move!

Her chakra flickered, deadweight in her veins. She rolled, the blade nicking her cheek, and scrambled behind a barrel with a grunt. The shinobi laughed, a hollow sound beneath his mask.

“Found you, little rat.”

He took a step towards her just as a bone spike erupted through his chest.

Kimimaro wrenched her up, his hands slick with blood.

“Don’t stop.”

They wove through collapsing buildings and fallen corpses, the chief’s manic laughter echoing above the carnage. Sakura’s vision blurred, she was being too slow. Kimimaro hauled her onto his back, bones sprouting from his shoulders like grotesque wings to deflect kunai and keep her there as he weaved through and away from the battlefield.

“There!” She spotted the docks, a lone fishing boat bobbing in the mist-choked bay.

A familiar whip-crack of chakra spiked behind them, their mother’s bone sword cleaved the air, missing Kimimaro’s neck by a breath.

“Mama’s disappointed, kids.” she sang, eyes and smile wicked, white hair clumped up with blood and gore.

Kimimaro didn’t flinch. He hurled Sakura toward the boat and turned, a living fortress of bone blades between them.

“Go!” he urged her.

Sakura hit the deck, ribs complaining and a warmth flowing from her injury. She clawed for the oars, bile rising as her brother’s pained grunts carried over the waves. But as soon as the boat began to move, he jumped in.

Alive! Alive! Alive! His frantic breathing assured her.

A final roar shook the harbor. A kiri nin’s corpse hit the water, their mother’s scream following as she collapsed face first in the water. Sakura swore it was the man who spared her be the one killed at the hands of her mother, but she couldn’t tell. She was too busy trying to make sure there wasn’t a single living person left in the harbor as the siblings’ boat slipped away into the thick fog, lest they’d be followed.

Kimimaro toppled beside Sakura, bone armor splintered, blood staining anything he touched.

“Did we…?” Sakura whispered, eyes still hovering the coast as she grunted with effort to row the small boat, her side's injury still relatively fresh and hurting worse than before.

He gripped her hand, trembling as he took an oar to help.

“Not yet.” He grunted, wiping away some of the blood on his dirty kimono and rowing with some difficulty.

The boat lurched into open waters, nothing but a tiny dot so quickly lost in a dark blue ocean that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon itself. Kirigakure’s mist swallowed the carnage and hid them away. With the stars as their guide, an ancient map and good old hope, together the siblings left their native country towards the unknown.

Chapter Text

The night adrift had been something that would haunt the siblings lives forever. Rowing in almost complete darkness trusting that Sakura remembered correctly the direction they were supposed to go and unable to double check the star map would’ve been stressful enough on a regular day. Their injuries and the weight of all that had happened as they managed to flee only adding to their uneasiness.

Whenever the water rippled slightly differently closer to them, Kimimaro felt a spike of adrenaline and reached for Sakura. They had no idea what type of creatures could be lingering in such a remote place and their boat, despite still in one piece, was undeniably fragile. Luckily the waves weren’t as large so far from the coast, but every spray of water left him doubting their decision of running towards the sea and not inland.

Maybe, if Kimimaro had grown up in a place that fostered gentleness and imagination, he’d think that the Rabbit Goddess, the one legend said had once carried the same name as their clan, had taken pity on her last-living children, using her power over the moon to control the ocean and stir them in the right direction because just before light began to seep into the sky, the boy could hear from afar a faint crashing of waves, the twitting of birds and the whistling of the winds making leaves dance. But Kimimaro didn’t grow up in such a place, he had no place in his heart to hope and pray for a goddess that allowed his clan, bearing her very name, to do what they’d done to his sister and himself, to their dad and countless others.

So, the appreciation, the hope and admiration went to the little girl shivering next to him. He knew she was smart, that maybe he put too much on her shoulders for the escape to work, that he wasn’t the brother she deserved or that he wanted to be, but Sakura had exceeded any and all of his expectations. All her directions were clear, she’d study the stars from minutes on end and tell him to pivot however many degrees to a different direction. No doubt in her voice despite trembling like a green leaf, all their clothes soaked, skin caked with salt and a different kind of fear gripping at their hearts.

They hadn’t slept one bit. The boat groaned about as much as the girl every time a stronger wave crashed on its side. Kimimaro knew that Sakura’s wounds were bad, he had seen her clothes soaking up with blood as they distanced from them Land of Water, the stiches had ripped and though they did wrap it once they felt confident enough to stop for a moment, he had also noticed that her broken finger was not setting right and that the bruising in her chest most likely indicated broken ribs. He had injuries too, a few wide gashes littering all over his skin, the salt stinging until it stopped bleeding. But his bones set easily.

If Kimimaro had believed in the Rabbit Goddess, he would’ve cursed her for not giving Sakura the Shikotsumyaku after all they’d been through. What a sick joke, a girl born from a clan that yanked out and wielded their very bones into battle, suffering from not being able to properly set her broken ones. And yet she pushed through, guiding them in the darkness with mind-blowing certainty, not once complaining about her injuries even though he could hear her breathing getting shallower the more time passed.

In the horizon, the island emerged from the mist like a half-rotted carcass, jagged cliffs clawed by skeletal trees, crumbling towers swallowed by ivy, and the distant hum of old chakra shuddering through the air. Kimimaro’s hands trembled as he rowed their stolen boat ashore, the oars slipping in his tired grip. Sakura slumped against the hull, her makeshift splint slick with seawater and blood.

They dragged themselves onto the beach as dawn bled into the sky. The sand was littered with debris: rusted kunai, shards of pottery etched with spirals, and the brittle remains of sealing tags that crackled faintly under their feet. Above them, a vortex loomed in the distance, a swirling whirlpool of chakra where the village’s heart once beat. It pulsed like a wounded animal, its energy fraying the very edges of reality.

The Whirling Gates stood ahead, the stone arches choked by moss. One seal seemed to remain intact, a sharp pattern that glowed faintly blue as they approached, careful but impatient for shelter. Kimimaro hesitated, wariness keeping a tight hold on his lungs as they entered the land of seals while not being familiar at all with fuuinjutsu. It began to dawn on him how naïve they had been in their dream of freedom. They weren’t equipped to deal with any of this. A voice croaked from the shadows.

“Step left of the center stone. It’s rigged to flood the passage if you tread wrong.”

An old woman hobbled into view, her spine bent like driftwood, hands knotted around a walking stick carved with crude drawings. Her eyes, sharp as any kunai, scanned their injuries, the fresh-ish blood soaking Sakura’s side where her injury was, the bone protruding from Kimimaro’s hand, an instinctive reaction of his to the odd place, not knowing what to expect but set on protecting Sakura from any danger.

“Refugees,” she said, not a question. “Follow. And don’t touch the walls.”

The ruins of Uzushiogakure rose like the bones of a long-dead leviathan, its skeletal remains half-swallowed by time and tide. The siblings staggered forward, their small boat left behind to grind against sand. Above them, the vortex loomed, even larger the closer they got to it, a swirling bruise of chakra clawing at the sky, its low hum vibrating in their ears.

Kimimaro’s grip tightened on Sakura’s uninjured arm as they navigated the crumbling path inland. The air tasted of brine, dust and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. The ground trembled faintly underfoot, as though the island itself were exhaling its last breaths. To their left, a tower leaned precariously, its stone façade split by thick veins of ivy. As they passed, a seal carved into its base flickered and died; the structure groaned, then part of it collapsed in a thunderous crash of dust and debris. Sakura flinched, while Kimimaro shielded her from the fallout, coughing into her hair, his eyes scanning for threats and finding way too many in the dying embers of the fallen civilization.

The village was a graveyard of contradictions. Once-proud buildings now sagged under the weight of moss and creeping vines, their walls cracked by roots as thick as serpents. Wildflowers bursting through fractured cobblestones, splashes of color against the gray decay. Birds nested in the hollow eyes of shattered windows, and the distant chatter of monkeys echoed from the canopy of a half-collapsed temple. Yet beneath the overgrowth, glimpses of Uzushio’s former grandeur lingered: a mosaic floor depicting swirling tides, a stone archway carved with intricate sealing arrays, now weathered to ghosts of their original patterns.

The vortex dominated the horizon, a spiraling maelstrom of chakra that cast jagged shadows across the ruins and new life. Occasionally, a pulse of energy would ripple outward, making the air crackle. When it did, the old seals embedded in the ruins flared briefly, some sputtering like dying embers, others erupting in violent bursts. A nearby well, its rim etched with faded characters, suddenly ignited in a shower of sparks, sending a charred wooden bucket flying. Kimimaro yanked Sakura behind a crumbling wall, his breath ragged.

“Don’t touch anything.” he hissed, though the warning was unnecessary. Sakura’s wide eyes traced the arcs of residual chakra dancing across the stones.

The old woman led them to her cottage, it stood at the edge of the village, where the forest began its slow conquest. Its walls were a patchwork of driftwood and salvaged stone, the roof thatched with dried seaweed. A crooked chimney puffed smoke into the air, and a small garden of medicinal herbs thrived in defiance of the salt-scorched earth, yarrow, comfrey, lavender, chamomile and knots of seaweed drying on a line.

“Call me Baachi.” She turned to them once she reached the doorway “You can stay here. No charge. No questions.”

Kimimaro bristled, positioning himself between Sakura and the woman.

“We don’t need help.”

Baachi snorted, plucking a jar of greenish paste from the windowsill.

“Your sister’s injury’s festering. I can help.”

Sakura’s gaze darted to the left of the cottage, where the vortex’s glow stained the horizon.

“Why help us?” her voice a wheezed whisper.

Baachi’s hands stilled, then she shrugged.

“This island’s a grave. We’re all ghosts here.”

The old woman waited for them to enter her humble residence, her posture bent but her gaze sharp. She nodded at Sakura’s splinted finger, the blood slowly oozing from her injury and Kimimaro’s blood-crusted knuckles.

“Inside,” she commanded, turning without waiting for a reply.

The cottage was cluttered but orderly. Bunches of herbs hung from the rafters, filling the air with the scent of lavender and thyme. A hearth crackled with white wood, and a clay-pot simmered with a pungent broth. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars of salves, tinctures, and dried roots. A threadbare rug covered the floor, some drying meat hanging near the windows.

Through the cottage’s lone window, Sakura spotted the field. It lay beyond the tree line, a stretch of uneven ground dotted with weathered markers: splintered swords plunged into the earth, shattered helmets perched on rocks, and here and there, a bleached bone half-buried in the soil. No names, no epitaphs, just the silent testimony of Uzushio’s fall. A crow perched on a rusted breastplate, its head cocked as if listening to voices only it could hear.

“They didn’t get to bury the dead.” Baachi said flatly, noticing Sakura’s stare. She stirred the broth with a wooden-handled ladle. “But the vortex claims them sooner or later. Bones, memories, all of it.”

Next to her Kimimaro shivered, but Sakura only looked forth, eyes shining with awe and curiosity. Dangerous things in a place such as this, but he was just happy they had found help, even if he didn’t fully trust the old woman yet. He guided Sakura to the room the lady pointed them and waited until she cleaned herself, standing watch over the girl as Baachi administrated her own brand of healing.

Baachi worked without chakra, which wasn’t a foreign concept to them but something they weren’t too familiar with either. The Kaguya prided themselves on their toughness and hardly ever sought healers, their customs demanding that they either survive on their own or die and make the clan stronger by eliminating weak links. He knew there were people who could mold their chakra into a healing energy but never saw one do it himself.

That first night, Kimimaro sat propped against the door, a bone dagger clutched in his hand. But as the hours passed, exhaustion and necessity wore his vigilance thin. Baachi moved with the brisk efficiency of someone who had survived decades of chaos. She applied poultices of crushed kelp and yarrow to Sakura’s infected injury, rewrapped her ribs with linen soaked in antiseptic tea, and pressed a mug of bitter root infusion into Kimimaro’s hands by dusk.

“Drink.” she ordered after he tried to hide yet another coughing fit “You’re no use to her shaking like a leaf.”

He sipped reluctantly, the brew dulling the ache in his muscles and lungs. Sakura, laid on the sleeping bag they’d brought, resting, whimpering occasionally.

“Your bones’ll heal.” she muttered to Kimimaro “But hers?” she asked, nodding towards where his sister slept “Needs time. And rest.”

He didn’t nod, didn’t stop watching every single step Baachi took next to Sakura, didn’t stop looming over her as the old woman changed her wraps or reapplied the stinking poultices to his sister’s injuries. But he didn’t get in her way either. He knew he couldn’t help Sakura with any of that, he was a weapon not a healer. Besides, none of what they went through would matter if she... He didn’t allow himself to finish that thought.

A few days later, at night, when it was cooler and Sakura felt better, the siblings watched the vortex from the shore. Its chakra throbbed in time with Kimimaro’s own pulse, as if it recognized the Shikotsumyaku thrumming beneath his skin. Once, a seal etched into a nearby rock flared and detonated, showering the beach in pebbles.

“It’s eating itself,” Sakura whispered in conflicted awe.

Kimimaro nodded, eyes peeled for any movement in the ruins close to them, attentive to the approach or lingering eyes of other refugees. They had seen them from afar, broken figures with shattered souls hiding from view behind crumbling walls. Baachi said no one would bother them, that everyone in here kept to themselves, but Kimimaro saw how a couple of them eyed his sister, how their hollowed stares followed Sakura’s steps, how their hands twitched at the sound of her giggle. He kept a bone dagger with him at all times and had all but ordered Sakura to keep one too, though she tend to use it to hold her hair up, or to poke and scrape at small crabs and broken seals.

We have to leave before it takes us with it. He thought to himself.

But for now, they stayed. Two fractured souls in a fractured sanctuary, where the dead slept unburied, and the living learned to trust in increments.

The island was scary, Sakura couldn’t deny, but even through all the decay, crumbling buildings and open graveyard, it was imposing and awe inspiring. Everything in it screamed power and the vortex was a fascinating effect, a swirling storm of ancient chakra created by the sudden collapse of thousands of seals at the same time.

Baachi had told them she had taken residence in the island soon after its collapse, she didn’t say why, and they didn’t ask. She did, however, tell them that shinobi would eventually show up, riffling through the collapsed buildings in search of whatever knowledge they could scrape.

“It’s like the very island knew it needed to protect their knowledge. The vortex swallowed everything of importance, no shinobi from either land daring to try and cross it once they witnessed a comrade or two ripped apart by the wild chakra.” She said during dinner one night “They took whatever was away from the clutches of the vortex, but even I could tell it wasn’t what they wanted, seals only made to hold and preserve objects, things that a regular person could use without having to master fuuinjutsu.” She sipped her bitter tea, watching the siblings with tired eyes “They destroyed Uzushiogakure in hopes to take their knowledge for themselves, but ended up with nothing but senseless bloodshed.”

Kimimaro had hummed then, Sakura could tell he was thinking of their own clan. Though Baachi asked no questions, her recognition of her brother’s kekkei genkai told Sakura that there was more to the woman than met the eye, her tired gaze occasionally lingering on the sibling’s red markings. Baachi moved through the village like a wraith, her knowledge of the island’s secrets as deep as its scars. She brewed remedies from seaweed and roots neither of them had even seen, stitched wounds with nettle thread, and read omens in the flight of gulls and turning tides.

“The island doesn’t care who you were,” she told them that same evening, grinding herbs into paste. “Only who you are now.”

That stuck with Sakura because she had no idea who she was now. Was she the legacy of a dying clan? A runaway refugee? The vortex’s next meal?

The days passed, the moon changed more than once, Kimimaro learnt to enjoy Baachi’s bitter tea (the one she knew helped with his coughs even if he didn’t admit to it) and Sakura grew bolder, daring even. She never tired of watching the vortex, it made the chakra in her veins come alive and sing to its howl.

Sakura wasn’t ignorant to the strange set of eyes that followed her around the island sometimes. Kimimaro, ever the protective older brother was an imposing shadow behind her, his Shikotsumyaku an efficient threat that kept danger away. He began training her fully as soon as Baachi gave her the news her bones had finally healed properly.

There were very few people living in the island and fewer dared approach them at one point or another, but after a dirty old man tried to touch Sakura and Kimimaro almost killed him, the siblings were given a wide berth anywhere they went. To the point Kimimaro eventually felt comfortable enough to leave Sakura with Baachi for an hour or two as he hunted or fished for their next meal.

Sakura sometimes took the opportunity to explore a bit closer to the vortex, some buildings that she watched from a far for a while before deeming it safe enough to check out the inside in quick intervals. In one of them she found a porcelain doll that was, incredibly, mostly intact, only missing a pigtail. In another one she found random books, which she brought back to Baachi’s. She even found a hitai-ate with an eddy carved in it, she kept that one under her pillow, Sakura didn’t know why, but it made her dream of a past she didn’t live and long to a future she didn’t know how to achieve.

One day she found a hidden house-library. Or rather a collection, she wasn’t sure if it could be considered a real library. There was this little trapdoor behind a wardrobe, only visible from the inside of the house and only because the wall around it had began to crack. Sakura wanted to explore immediately, but she had a bad feeling about it, so she called Baachi and her brother. After a stern talking to, they managed to get all of the scrolls out and, like it was meant to be, the passage caved in just after they left the house, the whole structure shaking and groaning, wall tilting to the side and left standing just because of the vines intertwined with it.

As most nights, she was in the makeshift living room, reading a chakra theory book that they had taken from the home library, one that had a couple missing pages, others half eaten away by time and moths. It had been three months since they first got there and the little broken cottage in this big dying island felt more like home than her clan ever did.

“Huh!” she hummed, putting the book aside and climbing up her brother’s lap, trying to reach the back of his head.

“What are you doing?” he huffed a snort, but didn’t pull her away, letting her shift his head to one side then the other with no resistance.

“The book says that if you circulate your chakra in the right direction, it should be stronger.” She told him, right knee finding in his shoulder a place to push her further up.

“Be careful.” He simply said, staying as still as possible as she settled “But what does my hair has to do with it?” Kimimaro asked while Sakura began to comb through the white strands that were reaching past his shoulders.

“Where is it?” she grumbled, pushing more hair to the side “It’s the direction of its growth.” She finally answered him “It’s supposed to tell you which way to circulate it.”

“True?”

“Yep.” Pulled some of his hair to the other side before squeaking “Found it!” she giggled, tracing the swirling pattern before tumbling down into his expecting hold and laughing louder.

“So, which way is it?” her brother smiled.

“Clockwise!”

He hummed.

“Let’s test the theory then.”

Sakura beamed, jumping to the ground faster than he finished his sentence, her heart thrumming in excitement.

“Okay!”

She saw her brother breath in, eyes closing in concentration, and slowly a sharp bone shot from his elbow. Faster and sharper than usual. Her eyes widened along with her smile. Kimimaro stared at the bone, then experimented a couple of times with other types of bones before asking her to follow him to the back of the cottage and the little space they had adopted as a training ground.

“I’ve been meaning to try something I’ve seen dad do when you were a baby.” He told Sakura and her breath stuck to her throat in anticipation “Never really worked before.”

Slow and carefully, he made a few handsigns before placing his hands on the ground from where an earth wall shot up slightly higher than her brother’s height and not too thick, but solid.

“Whoa.” She breathed out, impressed beyond belief.

“That’s…” Kimimaro trailed off, a smile dancing on his lips “Turn around, let me find yours.”

Sakura giggled as her brother walked around the earth pillar. Behind them the vortex hummed, as if watching the pair. A seal crackled in the distance, none of the siblings even flinched at it.

“I can’t believe you taught him how to tree walk.” Minato pinched his nose as Kushina plucked a giggling Naruto from their living room wall “Why would you do that, Kakashi?” he whined as his son wiggled from his mother’s hold and ran up the wall once more, his pants, which they had been trying to put on him for the last fifteen minutes, laid discarded by the sofa.

The jonin scrunched his nose enough he could see the movement even with the mask.

“It wasn’t me, sensei.” The young man, freshly twenty, grumbled.

Rin looked like a moment away from succumbing to either a laugh or a whimper. Minato raised an eyebrow towards them, a silent request for them to talk.

“It was Jiraya-sama.” She was the one to answer, ever the reliable one between the two “He came earlier today and, well, we tried to talk to him, but you know how he gets with Naruto.” Her eyes held an apologetic gleam.

Minato sighed as Kushina chuckled, upside-down on the ceiling holding to a delighted Naruto shrieking a laughter as he dangled from her secure hold.

“That old geezer.” His wife shook her head, slowly walking back to them “He disappeared right before we got here, I told you I had felt his chakra.”

Minato hummed, he had also felt it earlier that day, but had too many things to deal with already and decided he could check on it later.

“I can’t feel him anywhere in the village.” He mumbled “He’s either hiding or running away for a few days.”

“Dad, did you see me?” Naruto jumped to his arms, kicking Kushina’s stomach in the process.

Unsurprisingly, Kakashi was the first to snap, stepping towards the red-haired woman protectively, eyeing her barely showing round belly.

“Be careful with your mother, gremlin.”

Rin elbowed her teammate with a frown, hands already glowing with healing chakra. Minato was immediately focused on his wife. She smiled at him, as softly as always and, relieved, he turned to his first-born.

“You have to be more careful, Naruto.” He secured the kid in his arms, making sure he saw how serious this talk was and, though the blond boy pouted with shining eyes, he didn’t relent, even if he fondly pat Naruto’s spiky hair “Your mom’s carrying your baby sibling in her belly, remember?”

Wet eyes trailed to the red head.

“I don’t want a sibling!” his lip wobbled, the fat tears rolling down in his whiskered cheeks.

Minato sighed. He hadn’t expected that it’d be so hard for Naruto to accept a sibling, he had always been so open to other kids, making friends left and right anywhere he went. It was one of the reasons Kushina and him decided to try for a second child, as dangerous as it could be. But this had been an uphill battle for them.

“Oh, my baby.” Kushina’s own lips wobbling, the pregnancy hormones hitting her harder this time than the first one. She approached them from behind Minato, shielding her belly from the boy’s eyes and feet “Why not?”

Naruto looked down, hiding his face in Minato’s neck, voice muddled enough that only he could properly make out most of what his son said. His heart squeezed tightly in his chest, the wind knocked out of him as he shushed the crying boy.

“We will never forget you, Naruto.” He assured his son, Kushina gasping and hugging them both from behind, planting a kiss to the boy’s head.

“Of course we won’t!” she told him “Naruto, mama’s gonna love you forever, no one will ever change that.”

Puffed and wide cerulean eyes peeked from behind Minato’s sideburns.

“You promise?” his tine voice was as wobbly as his pout.

“Of course I do, darling.” Kushina nodded, planting a kiss to his chubby cheeks “I promise.” She repeated as Naruto extended his arms to her and Minato turned around so that Kushina could take him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He mustered trough a dying pout.

“I forgive you, baby.” Kushina wiped Naruto’s tears and shushed him as the crying fizzled out.

Kakashi and Rin had given them privacy at some point, Minato hadn’t even notice it.

Soon the boy was on the ground, with his pants on, chubby hands clutching his and Kushina’s as they made their way towards Ichiraku Ramen. Thankfully the man had made a special recipe when Kushina got pregnant, so she could enjoy it from time to time.

“So, when did your grandpa said he was coming back again?” Minato asked as they walked.

“Tomorrow!” Naruto promptly answered, then his face scrunched up in a frowning pout “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, dad!”

Minato laughed, pinching his son’s cheeks. His heart had never been this full.

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you, Kur. This shit keeps happening no matter what the council say about training the senseis or whatever.” Rin huffed at her friend, downing the warm sake that was not meant to be consumed in shots.

The hypnotic red eyes of Kurenai narrowed, watching as Rin swallowed her fifth drink of the night.

“What exactly did you heard them saying?” the chunin asked.

“To wait for the kunoichi class to start so they could give ‘proper’ combat lessons to the boys.” Rin grumbled, making air quotes with one hand, the other reaching for the bowl of peanuts.

“That fucker.” Anko snarled around her mug of beer.

“It was the same when I was in the academy.” Yugao, the youngest of them, pursed her lips in a frown “Shisui, bless his heart, was the only one of the boys to argue. Mind you that wasn’t even five years ago.”

Rin sighed, slumping against her chair. It had been roughly seven years since Minato took the Kage hat and while a lot had improved, it seemed that what some of the things that needed change the most were still overlooked. She knew well how hard Kushina had been pushing for the changes in kunoichi training, but the council still held great sway over Konoha’s beliefs. Many years after the war and they still used the excuse that ‘it had worked’, that the way they taught the kunoichi wasn’t flawed because women in the shinobi world are better suited for seduction, healing or behind a desk as a paper ninja.

It was an uphill battle.

“Itachi came to talk to Shisui and me.” Yugao resumed speaking after taking a few bites of her steak “He’s worried for Izumi and Hana. They found out about the extra training the girls were missing and attempted to crash in disguised as male peers.”

Not the brightest idea, but Rin couldn’t really fault the girls, Kurenai and herself had done it plenty back in their Academy days.

“Hana did well, even without her dogs, won her fight, but then Izumi was pitted against Torune.”

“The Aburame kid?” Anko asked with a sharp intake of air.

Yugao nodded. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anko flinching and Kurenai shaking her head. It made her heart sink further as she reached to pour another drink for herself.

“Gods.” Kurenai sighed, already predicting what happened.

Everyone in the jonin corps, and those who dated another jonin like her chunin friend, knew that both Itachi and Torune were being scouted already. As much as Minato was trying to slow things down and not put literal kids in ANBU like it was done in wartime, those boys were good (and so bored with the academy already), enough that the elders were pressuring Minato about the possibility of giving them separate exams. Anything to hurry them along the ranks.

“He said it was a quick thing.” Yugao’s lips turned downwards for a moment “His bugs ate away at her henge chakra and then when her form was revealed the teacher didn’t interrupt the fight, so the rules remained in place. Surrendering or being knocked out would end it.” The older women nodded “Izumi’s stubborn.” The only ANBU agent in the group shrugged “Tried to use her sharingan to finish the fight but ended up fainting from it.”

The silence that followed her words was charged.

Rin was one of the only medic nin that the Uchiha let close to their eyes (a paradox in her opinion, given all that happened with Obito and Kakashi) so she was familiar with Izumi’s case. The girl’s chakra pathways in her eyes were deformed and couldn’t handle the strain of the sharingan’s abilities. Rin was researching for a way to help, but this was not her specialty, she was a battle medic, so she had instructed the girl not to use it unless it was a matter of life and death.

She supposed this was a good exception, though. Proving her worth. Too bad it blew up in her face.

“Pretty sure they took it as prove of why the girls shouldn’t be given extra training.” Kurenai scoffed, glaring into her wine glass.

“They would’ve twisted it even if she had won.” Rin argued.

“Bet she was also punished, amirite?” Anko, the only Tokubetsu jonin among them, was also the only one who dared voice the question with a barely contained snarl.

“More kunoichi classes. Focused on feminine etiquette.” Yugao huffed “But she didn’t give up Hana, so the Inuzuka got away with it.”

Rin was sick of it. They all were and yet, the more they attempted to push the issue, the worse it seemed to get for the young kunoichis in training.

Not all was lost though. She huddled closer to the girls, whispering even in the privacy of her own home.

“I’ve been told a new leaf’s about to be turned.”

Three pairs of eyes widened, drinking every word with rapt attention. Rin wanted to tell them how Kushina and Minato had a plan, that they were working on it already, that it was a good one. She dared not. Lest her words got carried by the winds to the wrong ear.

“I’m hopeful for the future generations of kunoichis.” Was all she said.

And she was. These things were hard to change, and she was aware that it might take another couple of years until all was smoothed out and running properly, but Rin was sure that by the time Naruto was in the academy, things would be much better.

Life in the ruins of a village was easier than Sakura thought it would be upon seeing said village for the first time. Not as easy as the history books made it sound when the siblings were planning their escape from the clan, but they couldn’t have predicted a massive vortex of chakra that some days almost felt like a living creature.

She wasn’t complaining though. Sakura had even gotten used to the sound of buildings slowly crumbling down in the distance, and her new routine was so much better. Being able to train because she liked and not to kill her opponent (which nowadays was always her brother or a tree), taking breaks to go swimming or fishing or even just sitting down in the kitchen studying the scrolls she had been hoarding ever since they got there, while Baachi made lunch. It was bliss.

The only thing gnawing at her peace was Kimimaro. His health, to be exact. Sakura might be only seven years old now, but she could tell something was terribly amiss. He had been getting slower in their spars, needing to take more breaks, a pesky cough rattled his form during the night and kept her awake in worry, the bitter tea not working as well anymore and he was losing weight even though they ate better than when they lived with their clan.

Luckily Baachi still had other tricks up her sleeve. The old woman and Sakura spent the better part of two days looking for and harvesting some specific wild herbs that were then used to make a paste. Kimi had to dilute some of it in boiling water and inhale the vapor. Sakura had been skeptical at first, but the results were encouraging, he wasn’t coughing in his sleep anymore, gained back some of his weight and color too.

But even Sakura could tell that it was not a permanent solution. That eventually his body would get used to the treatment and… Still, he refused to acknowledge that something was wrong beyond ‘allergies’. Every time she asked, he managed to stir the conversation, joke about it or just argue that she was mistaken.

It was frustrating and infuriating.

Sakura used it to fuel her drive to get stronger, because she knew that she’d need, in the future, to journey beyond their broken home and into the continent to find him a proper medicine that could help his condition, whatever it was. Better even if she could convince a doctor to come see him. He had helped her escape their clan, now it was her turn.

“Hey, bunny.” Kimimaro squeezed himself into the space next to her in the only armchair they had in the house.

Sakura easily made space for him, letting him take the warmest spot, the one closer to the fire. She paused her reading for a moment to analyze his appearance. His hair was longer, still shiny and pristine. His eyes seemed brighter than a few days ago, but the dark circles beneath them refused to leave completely. She couldn’t see his collarbones anymore, so that was a good thing, and he had a healthy flush to his cheeks that pleased both Baachi and Sakura.

“Hey, aniki.” She smiled, nestling into his chest to feel the rhythmic beating of his heart grounding her.

Alive, alive, alive, it sung to her.

“Watcha reading there?” his voice vibrated through her back, hands coming up to braid her hair as he did every night for a year now.

“It’s seals theory.” She shrugged, eyes hovering back to the paper in front of her.

The text was complex, and she didn’t understand a lot of it, but it was interesting and the more time she dedicated to it, the more things seemed to start making sense.

“What have you learned?”

Sakura chuckled. Kimi knew she liked to babble about it and was happy to indulge her.

“It’s so interesting, aniki!” she twisted her neck as much as she could to see him while still allowing the boy to keep braiding her hair “The seals are a whole language, like when we used to code messages, remember?”

“You used to change the codes without letting me know at least once a week.” He reminisced.

“The new ones made more sense.” She justified while a blush climbed up her cheeks “Besides, it’s not as simple. Each symbol has a meaning, but depending on the others that accompany it, the meaning changes.”

Kimimaro hummed, finishing her braid and allowing her to fully twist to look him in the eyes. He waited expectantly for her to continue the explanation.

“For example, a simple storage seal, when accompanied by a lock, becomes a safe; but if it’s also accompanied by a restrictor, it becomes something like a cage; and if accompanied by a conserving one, then it becomes a retainer for dead bodies, like the ones the clan used after the fights.”

Kimimaro blinked, eyebrows climbing into his hairline and scrunching up the dots on his forehead. He looked like a surprised rabbit, and it made her giggle.

“You learnt all that just with those scrolls you found ‘round here?”

She nodded.

“Yeah.” Then showed him the one currently in her hands “See here?” she pointed at a very specific symbol “This mark means stop. It can’t be used on its own, because it needs a specification on what’s supposed to stop.” She balanced the scroll over the arm of the chair, then used her other hand to point out a second symbol “This one means flow, but still the design doesn’t work with just those two, because which flow are you trying to stop? And how?”

Her brother’s eyes followed her fingers as she explained, narrowing by the end. He had questions, she could tell, but he patiently waited for her to finish.

“To make a proper seal you have to take into consideration exactly what you’re trying to do with it and then write it in a way that the chakra will flow correctly, because if it activates a mark in the wrong order, then it’ll mess up the whole thing.” She moved her fingers to a different pair of symbols “If you combine stockpile with food and conservation, you make a storage seal for food.” She looked up at him as she pointed out the third seal, then moved on to a fourth and fifth “Add stop and heat in there and you can keep fresh food longer in it.” She finished with a clap and a smile “Though heat is also broad, so you probably have to add other things there, but you get the gist.”

Sakura was proud of how far she had come in her studies, even if sometimes it felt like she’d never understand everything. There were too many symbols and rules and details that changed everything about creating a seal. Let alone to use it. She wouldn’t give up, so she’d just have to find a way. Seals were something she could sell at high prices once Kimi and her decided it was safe to move out of the dying island.

“Bunny, that…” he trailed off, eyes finding hers but not mirroring her excitement.

“It’s interesting, right?” she shifted to gather the scroll.

“Yes, but it also sounds dangerous.” He gave her a pointed look, eyes trailing towards the window, from where they could see the vortex in the horizon.

It was a point he didn’t need to make, everyone in Uzushio knew seals could be dangerous.

“It’s not like I’m making them already.” She pouted, thrown off by the fact that her brother didn’t immediately support her view.

“I’m glad.” He nodded, swiping his thumb on her forehead, brushing her bangs to the side to reveal the red dots underneath it “I worry.” His voice was small despite their closeness “What if something happened?”

She frowned, feeling like, suddenly the air close to the fire was too hot and uncomfortable.

“You don’t think I’d be careful?”

“Of course you would, but you said it yourself, bunny, one mistake can make it or break the seal.” He argued.

“I know.” Sakura huffed “You’re worrying over nothing, aniki.”

“Over nothing?” his eyebrows pinched together in a frown “Is that nothing to you?” he pointed to the vortex.

Sakura got out of the armchair, scooting away from the fire.

“It’s not like I’m gonna overcharge thousands of seals in one go!”

“I know you-” he started, hands reaching towards her.

“No! You don’t think I can do it, do you?” she took a step back and away from his reach, her heart thundered in her chest, chakra vibrating in synchrony with the vortex in the distance “You think I’m weak and useless because I don’t have the Shikotsumyaku!” her voice wobbled, but held through her outburst.

Kimimaro’s expression fell, eyes widened.

“Sakura, that’s not true.” He also got to his feet, but didn’t move.

“It is!” she hiccupped, trying not to let tears fall.

Kimimaro looked terrified of her explosive reaction. She was surprised too. Deep down she knew he didn’t doubt her, but there was this tightness to her chest and a distant voice in her head cackling that he pitied her for not having the Shikotsumyaku yet. It sounded a lot like her mother.

She didn’t even notice him moving until he was wrapping her into a tight hug.

“Breathe, bunny” he instructed quietly “Big breath in.” he told her after gently holding her face and looking into her teary eyes “Now big breath out.”

Her exhale was shaky at best.

“Again.”

After a moment, when she was calm enough, he guided her to the kitchen, brewed some tea. They could hear Baachi’s snoring from her room. The old woman slept like the dead.

“Wanna talk about it?” he eventually asked her.

Hiding behind her mug, Sakura stalled. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but eventually the silence was worse.

“You’re sick.” She mumbled, eyes already filling with tears again “You can lie all you want but I know.”

Kimimaro froze, his own mug stopping midway to the table.

“I’m not, it’s just allergies.” His answer was immediate and so clearly rehearsed.

She glared at him, lips wobbling but holding strong. She knew the truth.

“I’ve overheard Bacchi talking to you.” She lied.

Her brother flinched, looking away as he finally slumped against his chair.

“Everything’s under control.” He murmured, eyes not reaching hers “You don’t have to worry, bunny.”

Kimimaro looked miserable and it sparked in her chest the urge to protect him as he always did with her. Her brother had taught her many things over the years, and one of those was that she should, unlike what their clan insisted on, learn to choose her battles and that, sometimes, having patience was the best strategy. She knew her brother well enough to know that he was stubborn, but she could me so much more.

So, Sakura nodded.

“Promise?” she asked.

“You don’t have to worry.” Was his answer.

They never talked about it again. Kimimaro began to try and hide his coughing from her with renewed effort and Sakura started to watch him like a hawk, learning to read his body-language and the sway of his chakra. She doubled her efforts with fuuin theory and her training, holding her breath for a trigger she didn’t quite know yet.

She thought it would be when Baachi died a couple of months later, but despite the grief that weighted on their chests and the sudden silence that filled the decrepit cottage, not much had changed in the siblings’ lives.

They still trained, tended to the garden, drank bitter tea, spent early nights smushed together in the armchair reading fuuin theory and braiding each other’s hair. Kimimaro still hid his coughing, Sakura still worried and the vortex still danced in the background.

They saw people arrive on the island for the first time since their own arrival. New set of eyes began following her from the distance. They kept their distance, likely wary of her brother and the rumor the other refugees surely relayed to the newcomers.

One day Sakura opened a scroll unlike any other she had seen before. The exterior was badly singed, and she recognized it as being from her last trip with Baachi through the broken village back when they renewed Kimimaro’s herbal paste. The woman had been the one to point out the scroll and when Sakura said it was unsalvageable given its singed state, Baachi merely smiled fondly at her.

“You never know what types of treasures might be hiding in plain sight in this place, Sakura.”

So, she took it, not because Baachi had convinced her it was a worthy find, but because the older woman had become family, and it would be so easy to please her. Besides, the days she was up to walk around with Sakura had been scarce back then, enough that they became special.

The scroll was a contract and Sakura almost tossed it to the side before a single word caught her eye: Summons.

She had heard, of course, that some shinobi could summon creatures. Most of them were usually affiliated with a village, though. Some of them even lost the summons if they betrayed their village. Somewhere in her room, she had a book of bingo or whatever the name, pilfered after her clan had conquered another senseless fight, that talked about some famously dangerous nins. A lot of them had summons listed as their ‘strongest’ abilities. People like Hanzo from Amegakure and Ibuse, his salamander; Gengetsu Hozuki from her homeland and his giant clam; and Sarutobi Hiruzen from Konohagakure and Enma, the monkey summon.

Either way, Sakura knew this was a big deal and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Kimimaro was taking a nap in the bedroom, so she reigned in her excitement and carefully started to read it. The contract was for slug summons, an uninteresting choice at first glance, but knowing that even a clam could be strong enough to be feared, her giddiness didn’t falter one bit.

There were four different signatures: Uzumaki Ashina, Uzumaki Mito, Uzumaki-Senju Haruka and Uzumaki-Senju Tsunade.

Her heart sped up. Those names, Uzumaki and Senju, were well talked about in the history books as strong clans. She didn’t remember anything specific, but Sakura was pretty sure that Senju was a clan based in Konohagakure, in the Land of Fire, a village that used to be allied with Uzushiogakure, if her memory served her well.

Her trembling hand closed around a pen. She hadn’t even noticed it moving, overwhelmed by the possibilities in front of her.

Sakura shook her head, taking a deep breath. She didn’t even know if writing her name on the contract would work! For all she knew the slugs were loyal only to Uzumakis and Sakura? Well, she was undeniably a Kaguya. Even if her dad hadn’t been, the dots tattooed on her forehead were proof enough of her origins.

Sakura drew in a shaky breath, flattening the scroll with one hand and clutching her pen with the other. She visualized herself neatly writing her name, careful not to spell it wrong and making sure it fit in the line. Then she did it again. Maybe she was stalling, scared it wouldn’t work, scared it might.

After the third round of visualizing it, she was ready. Sakura drew a deep breath, her heart calmer after she took her time preparing for it. Still, her throat was dry, her hands cold and fingers slightly stiff. She shook her hands a couple of times to get the blood flowing, before picking up the pen again and hold it, hovering just above the blank line.

Now, now, now. Her heart urged.

She complied, signing her name with great care, each stroke neat and precise.

A large grin split her face when she finally could read her whole name, barely taking half the line, sharply contrasting with the others, the ink fresh, bold and not completely adhering to the paper yet. She walked to the back of the cottage where she usually trained, then slowly replicated each hand-sign stated in the contract, prickled her thumb with the bone dagger her brother had gifted her and spread her fingers in the dew-kissed grass.

With a soft exhale she pushed chakra into her palms and then outwardly.

It took but a second and a little puff of smoke filled her sight. Before the wind could blow it away, a shadow slithered out of it. Sakura didn’t know what to expect and still her breath was knocked out of her lungs in surprised awe at the tiny creature in front of her.

The air shimmered like sunlit seawater as the summoning seal and smoke dissolved. In the center was a creature, no larger than a kitten, its body a living prism: translucent, opalescent and faintly glowing from within.

The little slug was a beauty, it looked sleek and gelatinous, their body shaped like a teardrop with ‘wings’ that rippled like liquid silk. The translucent surface of their body refracted light into the ground and her hands. The interior of the body had delicate bioluminescent veins that pulsated in rhythmic patterns, mimicking the constellations that Sakura spent years gazing with Kimimaro.

Her head was mostly dominated by two large pupil-less golden eyes and beneath, a tiny mouth that parted to reveal a voice like a breeze caressing seafoam.

“Well, this is tragic.” The tiny, genderless and melodic voice had Sakura jumping in surprise as the little slug drifted in the air, floating eye-level with her “The great summoner is a scrap of human with petals for hair.” They stated with a wing propped almost like a hand on a hip, a pose she often did herself.

Sakura's giggle escaped her.

“You’re talking.” Sakura whispered reverently “And glowing.” she added as the little slug drifted in the air, their ghostly jellyfish wings fluttering, little motes of bioluminescent light lingered in the air, dissolving like salt on the tongue.

“Of course I talk. You think I’d waste my time on a mute contract? Honestly.” They trilled like a huff “Though I’ll admit, your chakra control is surprising. For a toddler.”

“I’m seven!” Sakura couldn’t help but grin at the little ethereal creature.

“Same thing.” The slug waved a wing at her “I am Tenshi of the Shikkotsu Forest.” They said “And you, child…” then hummed, little head tilting to the side “You smell of brine and milk.” Their eyes seeming to stop at Sakura’s dots for a moment before moving on to lock their gaze.

Sakura’s gentle chuckle seemed to make Tenshi’s bioluminescence brighten for a moment.

“I’m Kaguya Sakura.” She smiled warmly, happiness buzzing within her form “Please to meet ma’am!”

“Slugs are hermaphrodites, child.” Tenshi trill was a bit harsher “I’m neither and both female and male at the same time. Besides, you should ask before assuming. It’s rude.”

Sakura felt her blush climbing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

“I’m sorry, sir- miss- oh, I don’t know how to address you, I’m sorry!” her buzzing happiness quickly turning sour with anxiety.

“Shush, child.” Tenshi chirped, wings as agitated as Sakura felt “You may call me by my name, no need to overcomplicate this.”

The girl nodded, eyes moist with tears but quickly calming down.

“Tenshi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her smile was wobbly, but sincere.

The slug drifted around her head before stopping in front of her once more.

“Right.” They hummed “Now, what’s our first disaster? Rescuing tadpoles? Scaring seagulls? Do make it entertaining, I haven’t left Shikkotsu Forest in a long while.”

Sakura grin widened as she thought of her brother’s face when he saw Tenshi.

“I have an idea!” she giggled.