One week. The entire duration of the mission is one week, that passes by in the blink of an eye.
Rabbit watches the flames lick away the hide-out of the opponent. There are phantom touches lingering on her skin, calloused hands dragging down her body and she wants to vomit. She doesn’t, because nausea is frankly disgusting and very amateur.
She is not an amateur.
Rabbit watches with cold eyes, she’s rather fond of watching the inferno wreck havoc around her. It’s almost like she understands it. It’s strange, but calming. It’s also probably a cause for concern, especially because she doesn’t even flinch when the flames begin to lick at her heel, and blaze comes close enough to tickle.
The inferno destroys anything in its path, it spreads so quickly, running over what is beginning to crumble and causing further damage to the remains. Rabbit watches, caught up in her observation that she ignores the smallest flame that catches on her clothing. The fabric doesn’t burn easily, so she doesn’t have much of a reason to care.
Not until there’s a flare of a familiar chakra signature, and since she knows it’s only her and her comrades in the vicinity, she figures out that they’re waiting for her and sighs.
Rabbit stares mournfully at her surroundings, before hastily leaving the centre of the inferno. She shunshins to her temporary teammates. They decide to retire into an inn for the night.
“Why?” For the first time, Nousagi basks underneath the light. She isn’t ANBU Agent Rabbit, nor is she Haruno Sakura (not yet, at least.) She is still wary, because she knows, she knows very well:
A flower that blooms in the darkness, can only survive in the darkness. If it still seeks light, it will only end up being burnt to a crisp by that blaze.
“Why what?” Nousagi asks, she feels naked without her mask (she’s supposed to provoke rumours of a peculiar traveller) but stays expressionless all the same as her eyes shift to meet the gaze of a man she hasn’t spoken to in years. A man who was supposed to be her teacher, her caretaker, someone who failed at a job they never should’ve been given.
She’s forgiven him a long time ago. (Though, she supposes he has yet to.)
“You know what I’m talking about,” Hatake’s voice is obviously pained, and Nousagi relishes in that for just a second. Guilt doesn’t weigh her down anymore.
“I have no clue.”
“Sakura,” he bites out in frustration, and her cold features melt into a furious scowl. She grasps her cold fury, her Killing Intent before it can start rolling off of her in waves.
“I am not Haruno Sakura,” she replies, sharp and cold like the blade of a well-kept kunai. A weapon. “Haruno Sakura is gone, and has been for a while.”
“Sakura—”
“Not Sakura,” she growls, this time.
“You are,” he replies in the same tone, he’s not trying to be unkind, but she is cold and unfamiliar and yet… so much like him.
“No, Hatake-senpai,” though she loathes him at the moment, respect and manners have been ingrained in her. She acts by the ANBU code of conduct, she must respect her superiors, they are superiors for a reason. (A part of her forgets that she is practically on the same level as he is, she is no longer the beginner ANBU she was, all those years ago.) “You may think I am Haruno Sakura, but I’m not the same girl who was thrust at you along with an Uchiha and the Jinchūriki of the Kyūbi.”
“Don’t call him that,” he snaps. “You’re not even supposed to—”
“Of course, I would know, Hatake-senpai,” Nousagi laughs, cold and bitter like all that she is. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in the shadows. ” I don’t exist outside of them.
The reminder is a little painful for him. He visibly winces.
“Even so, pack doesn’t talk like that about each other.”
“Pack?” She sounds incredulous. His lone eye softens.
“You were under my wing.”
“Could’ve had me fooled,” the sharp laugh she barks out is colder, more bitter. “I was never your pup .” she snarls. She says the word like it’s venomous, but he knows it’s not because she thinks the concept of it is strange, or stupid ( —she knows he’s sensitive about it, he’s the last Hatake) but it’s because she’s never felt a part of the pack, and oh , that’s ten times worse.
“Sakura—”
“Oh, for the love of Kami, I am NOT Haruno Sakura!” She wants to yell at him, but settles for a nasty snarl instead. “With all due respect, Hatake-senpai, I have changed and become someone who is very different from the cutesy, weak genin student of yours. Oh, but forgive me, I was never really your student, was I?”
“You—”
“Don’t,” she sighs, and her tone is resigned now. The wrath of her ire is not going to change anything, it’s too late. The things she wants to say, will say if he provokes her to — they’re useless, now. What point is there in spitting out words that are going to fly over his head anyway? “I know what my role was. I was cannon fodder, a human meat-shield. It’s not your fault. Besides, it’s obvious that I didn’t follow the directions of my role in the team,” she gives him a tight smile, it’s cold and fake, and Hatake wonders if all that’s left of her is a weapon.
“It’s my fault you grew into this.” He says.
“Into what?” She asks, and her eyes are dangerous. He hasn’t seen the seafoam green in so long, and he mourns. “Someone independent? Powerful? Strong? Dangerous ?”
“Into a weapon,” he says. She smiles again, and her eyes close and he can see the danger wafting from her in waves even if she’s got a tight hold on her KI.
She wants to scream at him, admonish him. Her words will hold no worth.
“We are not the same, Hatake Kakashi. You are nothing like me, and I am nothing like you. Never will be.” She tells him. “Besides, isn’t the Uchiha supposed to take after you?”
“You’re the Godaime Hokage’s apprentice.” He doesn’t say anything to her prior question.
“Yes.” Her answer is curt. She’s a better teacher than you ever were.
“You are loyal to her.”
“Yes.”
Hatake gives her a look, and she bristles at the pity, the sadness, the understanding.
“What would you even understand about us?” Inner snarls in her head.
She stares at his back, it’s a familiar activity.
She isn’t privy to his thoughts, she doesn’t see the unshed tears, she doesn’t know that he’s thinking of a certain blonde man, the only one Kakashi thought he’d ever be loyal to, “Oh, Sakura, we’re more alike than you think.”
She wants to scream.
The mission is supposed to be her re-introduction to the world, outside Agent Rabbit. (A part of her, buried deep in a corner, is still Haruno Sakura and that part of her is fighting to heal.)
It seems long ago, the moment she tells Shishō she is ready to take off the identity of Agent Rabbit. She’s not ready to be Haruno Sakura beyond the shadows, but it is crucial for Konoha and about time that she shows the shadows who she is, who she was, who she might become. If she can’t exist outside the shadows, perhaps she can live inside of them.
Shishō is incredibly proud of her.
She wonders if it will remain that way, that pride Shishō has for her, in her. A part of her thinks, knows , Shishō wouldn’t mind if she became Haruno Sakura once more, albeit a different version, and began to exist outside the shadows.
However, Nousagi knows that if she dares, the light will burn her.
A flower that blooms in the darkness, can only survive in the darkness. If it still seeks light, it will only end up being burnt to a crisp by that blaze.
Honestly, it’s not like she wants to. It’s just that she doesn’t want the reactions she knows she’ll get. The hurt, the hatred, the anger, the distrust, all of it. She’s already cried enough times inside the darkness of her room, begging to be forgiven.
(A more vicious part of her, the one that is cold and cruel, the part that kills with no mercy, says: “You were the ones to drive me away. You are the reason Haruno Sakura is gone, the reason why a shadow shrouds the mere silhouette of who she was.” )
“Hey, kid,” Genma calls for her, his voice is tentative. “Will you kill me if I call you kid?”
She doesn’t face him, but after a stretched moment of silence, she replies, “no.”
“Okay, uhm, cool,” Genma pauses. “The other two are definitely not fond of you, and I think I have an inkling about what went down with Hatake, but uhhh,” she almost snorts at his awkwardness. “Quite frankly, it’s not our business, and there’s no time in ANBU for drama between a war veteran and a kid.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” she doesn’t know why her defences are lowering, but she knows that it’s why Genma seems to relax from behind her as well. “Also, I’m an adult, Shiranui-san.”
“Still a kid to me. I was the proctor for your Chūnin exams,” he reminds her. She tries not to bristle at his words — she doesn’t take kindly to reminders of Haruno Sakura. “Shit, sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear that, I’m guessing?”
“No, not really.”
“Okay, uhm,” he’s struggling to find words. She thinks it’s amusing. It definitely does not match the reputation he has, the one she hears about. “What should I call you?”
“My ANBU alias works just fine, Shiranui-senpai.”
“No, that’s weird when we’re not in action on a mission,” he tells her. There is no room for argument. “Also, please call me Genma. Shiranui-senpai just sounds strange.”
“Okay, Genma-san.”
“Can I call you Pinky-chan?”
“Absolutely not,” she looks at him with a glare. It has no real heat in it, though it still makes him tense up. She feels… guilty. “...Kid works just fine.”
Genma grins.
“Hey, kid, we’ve got a while until Taichō tells us to head back. Wanna learn the Hiraishin ?”
She couldn’t agree any faster.