Chapter Text
Five year old Sakura has a bounce in her step as she skips down the streets. It’s early in the morning, too early for most children, but Sakura’s always been an early riser. Enough so that people she passes on the streets recognize her, and wave hello as she passes by, eagerly waving back with a smile.
She carries a bouquet of flowers with her, all whites and pinks, her mother’s favorites, with a yellow lily tucked in for her father. It’s a sweet collection, put together by her mother’s best friend, the mother of Sakura’s own best friend, Ino. She fiddles with the white ribbon holding it all together, making sure the bow is neat, and then she finally crosses into the perimeter of her destination.
Konohagakure’s shinobi graveyard.
The wooden gates creak as she passes through them, skipping down the neatly cared for paths between gravestones. She passes by another frequent visitor - a masked man with white hair - and sends him an enthusiastic wave as she goes by. She sees him there often, always at the same grave, and Sakura never asks - she just waves and keeps going, because she was taught to leave people alone when they’re visiting this place. Just like people tend to leave her alone.
After a moment, the masked man waves lazily back, and Sakura beams a smile as she crosses the last lane of graves and reaches her goal. A double grave marker, the stones entwined in a slight infinity symbol. She crouches down in front of them, gently settling the flowers into their stand. She fluffs the petals, adjusting them so all the flowers are facing the sun.
Then she rocks back on her heels and lifts her hands, clasping them in front of her. “Hello Kaa-san, Tou-san. It’s been two days since I last visited! I’m really sorry about that,” Sakura says apologetically. “I hurt my ankle playing with Ino and Matron-san wouldn’t let me out for two whole days until it was better,” she pouts. “But I met someone really cool! I hurt my ankle way worse at first, so Ino-chan took me to the doctor, and a really nice lady used chakra to fix most of it!”
“It was so cool. I didn’t know people could use chakra to heal. I think…” Sakura bites her lip, trailing off for a moment. “I think maybe that’s the kind of shinobi I want to be. The kind who… who heals people. Who helps.” Sakura looks up at the sky thoughtfully. “Shinobi are fighters, but they can heal, too. Maybe I can do both? ” She wonders softly.
Wind blows gently through the graveyard, ruffling her long pink hair. She huffs and pushes it back out of her face, then smiles brightly at the stones before her. “I started at the Academy,” she says quietly, still smiling. “I’ve met lots of people. Hinata-chan is really shy, but really nice. Ino-chan is in my class, too, and we sit next to each other. I think some of the other girls are mean, though. Ami’s rude, and she stole my shoes, and then Matron-san had to buy me new ones and it cost her money, so she was upset,” Sakura sighs heavily and frowns down at the graves.
She toes at the ground, then crouches lower, peering at the names etched into the stone.
Haruno Mebuki. Haruno Kizashi.
“I really miss you both,” she tells them sadly, wishing they could hug her again. She really, really misses their hugs.
But just as soon as it had appeared, the melancholy fades, and Sakura bounces back to her heels with a smile. “I have to get to class! Maybe if I ask Sensei, he’ll help me learn to heal? I’ll see you tomorrow, Kaa-chan, Tou-san,” she promises, turning on her heel to scamper back out of the graveyard. She waves wildly at the masked man as she passes, and gets another lazy wave in return.
Sakura eagerly sets off for school, already thinking about what stories she’ll have to tell her parents tomorrow.
She has no idea, when she turns her back to the graveyard, that she won’t be returning the next day. That, in fact, it’ll be quite a long time before she returns at all.
Little girls should be more cautious who might overhear what they have to say - because she’s caught someone’s attention, and that’s all it took to seal her fate.
He comes for her that night. He slips in through the orphanage window like a ghost, like mist, and creeps along the floor until he finds the right bed. A little head of pink hair, nestled amongst similar colored sheets, and the man stares at her for a long minute, his red eye whirring.
He picks her up gently. She stirs, the slightest amount, and the moment her eyes start to open, they see red and slide back shut.
The man adjusts his grip on her, making sure she’s comfortable, and then takes her away in a swirl of chakra. There’s no trace left behind of either the girl or the man, and no one knows what became of the poor child, stolen away in the night.
Hundreds of miles away, Obito lowers Sakura to a new bed and stands over her, red eye swirling. He peels back one eyelid and stares into the green, working away at her mind.
When he’s done, he sits back with a heavy heart that feels both heavier and lighter than before. Like he’s done something wrong, but something so right at the same time.
He looks at the sleeping girl beside him and runs a hand through her hair.
“You’re just like Rin,” he murmurs softly, hair brushed out of her face. He looks down at her calm, sleeping face, and feels something in his chest ease.
“I promise to protect that,” he swears quietly.