Cosmogony

It was sequentially a part of a thousand occurrences in every alternate lapse of time.

People die all the time, as is the reality in every creature no matter how much they adapt — there is essentially no eternity or hereafter.

Everything comes to an end.

It's a matter of fact and no mere assumption times go and wait for no one — something that is known by anyone worth their salt and grime. Time is gold, but no gold can assume to cost time, it is indefinitely an entirety of its own — that exists for one purpose. 

To move forward.

There is nothing more beautiful than for a new life to take form, and finally for it to make do with its purpose — it is synthetically possible after all to continue a journey when the ink on the pen wasn't quite spent.

"She's perfect" 

Mebuki spent all night screaming her voice hoarse, she even for all her brave front was afraid — afraid she would die on a woman's battlefield. They told her it would be worth it, they told her all the pain would be nothing right away. It would be an experience most women normally do. They told her many things, but they didn't tell her how it was to feel the sensation of being ripped on the inside. They didn't tell her possibilities were so large that she wouldn't even watch her child grow or have the chance to embrace them if she, for just one single moment of lack of luck — everything would be over.

And she wouldn't have the chance to regret anything because she would have died.

 Mebuki in her tired body but raging thoughts vows to have that instructor on pre-birth beg for mercy under her heel after all of this.

Dark green eyes, the colour of foliage shadowed behind the sun peer at the bundle in the arms of her soulmate. That damn instructor was wrong in almost everything she sputters out on Mebuki and several pregnant women — but she's right about one thing, not that she'll ever admit it.

She feels the tingle of warmth that courses through her deep, deeper than the skin or bones but on her soul. Mebuki slacks and relaxes, her head calming down its derailing thoughts because he's happy, and it was something she would burn the world for

She's right on one thing, It's all worth it.

"What are you going to name her?" asks a smooth baritone voice, Kizashi was looking at her and holding their child

Her pupils flutter for a moment

 "How would I decide if you wouldn't bring her near you buffoon" 

It came out snappy but with no real edge and Kizashi only grins sheepishly before walking to her and carefully handing it down to the sleeping infant.

Their fingers brushed in their wrist, were symbols that existed just for them, hers were interlocked hearts above a bud of a flower — his, on the other hand, was intertwined circles, an eternal loop.

She met him as a child barely knowing what those symbols meant. But when she met him she just knew a vague, intercepting fact.

Maybe it wasn't love at first, but it must be. You don't dwell on something you already have — the same goes for Mebuki.

It felt right, like a precisely solved puzzle.

She has pink hair — their child. A fuzzy top of it in her tiny head, paler than Kizashi. And she was sure this time this was love. There was no act of hesitation in not knowing something, it is what it is.

"Sakura" she softly murmurs

For the bud in her wrist that was yet to bloom, for the eternity on her lover's wrist. All things die but yet some things just keep coming back, more beautiful than it has been.

A warm sensation of a kiss being planted on her forehead — he knew, of course, he knew. 

"Welcome to the world Sakura"

Sakura's last memory was a bright light engulfing her, the sound of crackled lightning — the cold wind that brushes against the nape of his neck. The sound of Naruto's scream.

But it was such a bright welcoming light that embraced and Sakura willingly fell to it. Her shishou certainly didn't raise a coward but she learns well, and Sakura learns most astronomically from Senju Tsunade.

She only felt the wet sensation and the same cold air, the same bright light that welcomed her, but for a second it was a painful experience like a realisation tugging at the back of her mind. 

Then suddenly everything burns — it felt like being submerged in boiling water, the pain searing and making her forget. Sakura wants to scream but she can't, she couldn't make any sound — she couldn't move her limbs.

There were loud noises in her ears, blurry giants and converged colours. 

Everything hurts—

—she wants it to stop

It was a painful process of blacking out and being awakened again through torture. She couldn't think straight — maybe that was the reason, it wanted to make her — stop her from thinking, stop her from remembering. 

But Haruno Sakura was tired, tired of the pain — tired of fighting for reasons.

For the third time, the light came again and—

"Welcome to the world Sakura"

—Haruno Sakura forgets.

It was in the way her gut rolled in uncomfortable lurches, her breath hitching telling her that there was something wrong.

Mebuki bring a finger to the tiny nose 

Nothing

She leans down aligning her ear with her daughter's chest, wanting to her something — 

Nothing 

Mebuki leans away and calls out wide-eyed and panicked.

"Kizashi" her voice trembling a little, Kizashi grew alarmed by this 

"What's wrong, are you uncomfortable somewhere? I can take Sakura-" 

Mebuki's body was already trembling by now her hold shaking "I-It's Sakura, Kizashi! She's—she's not breathing! Sakura's not breathing!" 

Kizashi then runs forcibly opening the door of their ward and shouts outside for medic 

"Haruno-san we would be taking—"

They took Sakura from her and Mebuki trembled with the lack of weight in her arms, she tries to say something because she needs to, Sakura was fine just a moment ago 

"I just held her then she just—just she's just, there's no air and heartbeat  I-I"

Tears went down streaking her face and as the medic that takes Sakura away grew farther than Mebuki can reach out, Kizashi hugs her.

They told her what caused her body to shut down was because of her soulmates. As Sakura just does not have one or the very rare cases two — but she has six of them. Two of them are charred remains on an otherwise smooth skin, signifying their deaths.

They put her in a monitor for the time being as having this kind of phenomenon was downright unheard of.

"Will she be alright?" she asked, particularly no one "Can she be brought home?" 

An arm wrapped around her, familiar and soothing. She nuzzled her face unto his neck reaching for comfort as they both stood before their glass-encased child.

"She will" 

She knows it's not only her he was convincing, but also himself.

Come dawn four people woke up with a feeling of a metal rod tattooing something on their skin, it was both hot and cold sapping their strength as it finished its form

They say soulmates transcend through time, and it does with two boys gasping with pain.

All of them have something similar. A crescent moon reflecting a cherry blossom tree, in full bloom and vibrance. In its intricacy, it seems to sway in the non-existent breeze.