Reborn

She hears the faint whisper of his voice, so quiet she thinks she imagines it.

“Rin.” So tenderly soft, loving almost. 

The name of a girl she doesn’t know appears; Sakura’s breath purposely slows, despite the pain it causes, to sell the illusion of sleep. Softness falling around her eyes as she kept them closed. Her tongue feels dry and cracked inside her copper tasting mouth.  Suddenly, there is a gentle pull on her trimmed tresses. The salt crusting into her frayed locks apparently doesn’t bother him as he gently brushes her hair with his concealed fingers. Her heart thumps in her chest, but she refuses to break. The gentle brushing goes onward for a while until it stops, silence overtaking the open space. 

Who is Rin?

THE hushed sound of sand tickles her ears as her eyes crack open. A searing cold shine from the icy sun is muted by the drab atmosphere as dawn skies in Wave are stygian. Grayish white fog simmering low to the brittle ground covers her slightly damp skin like an unwelcome blanket. Her nose is painfully dry, burning with every labored breath she takes. The burn sits between her eyes, high within the ridge of her nose. It’s aggravating, it makes her feel muggy. A light wind ruffles through the early morning as the cloak she has been under has pulled away. She distantly notes how she doesn’t feel cold. 

Sakura tries to move her arms; the action spurs a fury of pins and needles down her arms and chest. A cough tears at her raw, dry throat as she swallows painfully, the need to salivate overwhelming in its reflex to bring moisture back into her mouth. Her clothes felt itchy and stiff as sand slowly trickled down to the bottom of her small dug out space. She can't move. She’s trapped in her body, screaming into the dark waters, a horrid voice splitting her skull in two as the realization that she is infinitely small compared to the vast ocean intent on crushing her like a rag doll-

The low grunt breaks Sakura from her sensory discomfort as she gently turns her head, in partial wariness of her nerves pinching in her neck, as she sees the man push a wooden rolling cart through the stiff sand. The faint smell of vegetables waft from the beaten wood as he aligns the cart to be right next to her. 

Did he steal it? Sakura thinks, not able to look at him as he moves straw mats and hay to form bedding. Sakura decides there is no harm in asking. “Did you steal that?” Her voice comes out croaking. He momentarily freezes before walking over to the other side of her. Crouching down, his orange mask reveals an onyx eye that looks down at her with concern. 

“Does it matter?” His voice is velvet and dark. The thought of it makes her cheeks go pink. Sakura wants to shake her head but knows her neck won’t take it, so she settles for silence. He squats downright next to her as he leans in close. The close contact makes Sakura feel squeamish, an emotion the other man must not recognize as he leans closer to ask. 

“Do you mind if I lift you up?” 

“No.” Sakura rasps, shivering at the furnace-like heat that radiates behind the man's hands. It immediately turns into a wince as her back sparks into a symphony of pain, her inflamed nerves flaring to life to set her back on fire. Her legs limply jostle as he effortlessly picks her up, tucked into his chest as he cradles her back and knees. 

She belatedly realizes he is carrying her bridal style. The realization is tainted when lightning bolts shoot down her legs as the pressure on her back mounts. Her face twists in strain. With a feather light touch, he readjusts his hold on her spine. It's a quick moment, where he gently places her onto the bedding of straw mats and hay that smell faintly of old vegetables. The pain turns dull, constantly ebbing out across the surface now that she is no longer being moved. A quick flash of worry ties her stomach into knots at the severe medical situation she is in. By not following protocol, she is risking insubordination and possibly infection by not getting her wounds looked at by Konoha sanctioned backup.

The compliant part of her brain is screaming that she upholds her duties, to try to do anything to alert her team that she is alive and needs backup, but she can't even walk. Mind churning, militant duties burst to life as a mental list forms; she needs to get back to Konoha, she needs to report for duty so that she doesn’t get deemed AWOL and she needs to send a message back to them somehow. Racking her brain, she tries to go through everything on her that could be used as a potential marker.

Dull green eyes momentarily trace the riverbeds, longingly looking for her blue pouch which not only carries flares but tags that would help assist her. If she had her tags, she could put them onto the trees as a trail that she was still alive.

Was her team looking for her? Sakura’s mouth dries, her teeth sticking to her lips, as a surge of anxiety and hope placate her shivering heart. Her team would be ecstatic to have her back, Sakura just knows it. But first, she had to obtain more information on who was with her, if he truly was an ally or foe. The past day has taught her enough lessons from trusting and placing your best hopes on strangers. Strangers would be more than happy to kill you. A sour stench of sweat and rotting meat tickled at her nose, almost as if she were still on the bridge. The orange masked man grabs the wooden beams, strong forearms flexing as he begins to pull the rolling cart. The oddest thought comes to the surface of her jittering brain, has she seen him before? 

Narrowing her eyes in brewing contemplation, she cannot help but suspect that there is something inherently familiar about this man. Raking over his muscles, lithe build and the subtle scent of campfires and musky smoke, a budding sense of safety forms within her shriveled form. His inky black hair almost looks midnight blue, a short unflattering haircut that leaves uneven spikes flaring up around the sides of his mask. His dark onyx eye and deep voice pulling at tangled strings of cloudy memories. Sakura feels like she is on the verge of being able to recall the man’s name.

Her observations pull her away from analyzing him, while the rolling cart moves, under the gloomy morning skies as they are now headed in an unknown direction. Alarm flares to life, Sakura doesn’t know where she is being taken.   

“Where are we going?” She asks, nervous at the aspect of being transported with no destination in mind. To be carted off or given back to the angry horde of bandits that would love to have the company of a weak girl would be a sentence worse than death. Sakura isn’t foolish enough to think that nothing would happen. Her lower back pinches, sending uncomfortable muscle spasms down her legs as Sakura tries to shift herself out from the position she is in. Fear blanketing her mind at the possibility of bandits and hired hitmen using their rusted swords and blackened gums to finish her off.

A nasty cough breaks her free from her train of thought. 

“We need to get away from the river basin.” The ink dipped man grumbles, his mask muting his voice now that he isn’t close to her. The clacking of turning wheels irks her throbbing headache, her mouth is still too dry, and her limbs feel ready to fall off. It fuels her paranoia; she needs to get home.

“I need to go back to Konoha.” Her voice wavers: the most she has spoken to him. Her brain stalls, his name on the tip of her tongue as flickers from being pulled out of the river almost give her a complete picture. The slight movement from the rocky path of sand and hidden stones agitate the inflamed nerves, scathing her back raw, as she bites her chapped lip to stop the wince threatening to break free.

“Don’t worry, we are headed in the same direction. If you haven’t been able to tell, we are moving West.” He informs, as he only spares a quick glance back. His steps are light, and Sakura comes to terms that she has no choice but to trust the man’s words. They walk away from the river basin, opting to stick to the smaller trails. Liquid mercury nips Sakura's stomach, anxiety pooling in her gut as she questions why he brushed her locks. 

                                                                     ☁☁

A puff of smoke clouds the room.

“Well, since Konoha is liable for the failure of the mission, normally in this situation we would offer to compensate for the family's funeral on top of additional services, however the client purposefully withheld information and even put Konoha's next generation at risk. So, my question is,” Hizurens gravelly voice asked as his brown eyes flickered up from his desk to look at Naruto and Sasuke, “how should Konoha handle this situation?” Hizuren allows his facial expressions to smooth out into a gentler, parental approach, leaving the question to hang in the confines of the cloudy office. The question was specifically aimed at Kakashi, but figured it would be good to let the children hear it as well. 

“You boys may leave.” Hizuren announces, his eyes set upon the one he is truly upset with. Kakashi avoids his eye contact, unwilling to look at him. Hizuren silently notes how the Uchiha doesn’t look receptive towards his grandfatherly tone. Flinty obsidian eyes momentarily pull back into a narrowing stare until the boy regains his impassive air. Hizuren does not miss the white bandages wrapped around his delicate neck, a shoddy job at medical assistance that would have to be addressed at the hospital. Naruto on the other hand struggles to leave, physically conflicted but eventually topples in when Hizuren flashes him a comforting smile, allowing for softness to fall around the curve of his eyes. Hizuren waits patiently as Naruto drags his feet out of the room, somber and unusually quiet. There must truly be a lot of things on the boy's mind if he is not demanding a speech from him, but Hizuren can guess where his meekness originates from. 

The Uchiha heir however was hostile, which would not do at all. His brown eyes become glassy and hard as he addresses Kakashi now that they are alone, without the presence of children involved. The masks come off naturally, making Hizuren feel more at ease.  

“So, the Kyuubi was released?” Hizurens voice was serious, his hands gripping in front of his face now that his pipe had been laid down. Kakashi maintains his eye contact for the first time since stepping into the Tower, not a break in posture as his former guard replies to him. “Yes, it was powerful enough to create a partial formation. Its chakra was an exact replica of that night.” Kakashi confirms, not having to explain further due to the gag order. Hizuren feels his gut sink. 

“Who was able to notice the transparency between the projectile and the container?” Hizuren inquires, and Kakashi immediately responds. 

“The hired mercenaries from Wave, including the Swordsman of the Mist.” 

“Who else?” Hizuren presses, catching the slight hesitation in Kakashi’s masked face, his sole eye falling onto the handcrafted flooring that allowed the office to look like it breathed money and discretion.  

“Haruno Sakura, the last team member within the group. She was able to catch a full glimpse of the leak on top of being in the near vicinity to be directly within range of its chakra,” Kakashi reports dutifully, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he also adds, “There was also Gato and his army of bandits however I cannot attest to the fact that they were able to witness the unleashing.”

Hizuren grits his jaw. This could become a hazardous scandal for Konoha if this information got into the wrong hands. Rumors of an unstable container such as Winds could slow down mission demands and even cause a visit from the Daimyo himself. Villages could see Konoha as weak and begin to pick up the old traces of the last war, if they believed Konoha to be unstable enough to topple. Lightening wouldn’t hesitate. Hizurens mind tumbles from the political nightmare that is beginning to play itself right in front of him. Glancing at how stiff Kakashi carries himself, Hizuren knows he isn’t alone in his assessment of what risks have been brought up. 

“What about the townsfolk? Can you guarantee that they have no inkling to what Naruto is?” Hizuren picks up traction, while wisps of smoke curling around him no longer fizzle out due to his pipe but the infamous Sarutobi clan technique. It faintly reminded Kakashi of Asuma, the familiarity of quirks that arose during stress, uncanny. 

“In full confidence I cannot say that none of them knew, however with the state Wave is now, I don’t think they are educated enough to understand what Naruto is and what he carries.” Kakashi reasoned, giving the villagers the benefit of the doubt, however he had been in this job for too long to truly believe kindness would be extended and Hizuren proved him right.

“You cannot say in full confidence, which is a stark difference from if you were confident in that fact no one saw. The possibility of running mouths and accidental leaks of National Security is too great of a risk.” Hizuren says slowly, hand absentmindedly reaching out to pick up his wooden pipe. The urge to smoke is deafening as his hands curl around the mouthpiece. 

“The girl, you are sure she is dead?” Hizuren asks, his eyes momentarily flickering down towards the smiling picture of a bright young girl. Kakashi almost flinches at the casual dismissal of one of his students. Hizuren is not above twisting the knife to make it hurt.

His mouth puffs onto his worn mouthpiece as he coolly exhales onto his desk, appreciating the slight relief from his cravings as he looks up at Kakashi once again. A quick flicker to the mental anguish Kakashi is going through momentarily breaks free before it is hidden by the thick layering of fabrics on his pale face. Hizuren coolly observes how Kakashi mutely nods before stating, “The fall was roughly 41 meters.”  

Ah, Hizuren thinks, a fall from that height would immediately shatter bones upon impact.  

“...I see.” Hizuren says neutrally, lightly chewing on the long wooden pipe that is burning through the tobacco leaves. Hizuren cannot push Kakashi too far, he must be careful with how he presents himself to one of the few loyal pawns left in his grasp. He still needs Kakashi to play his part. Hizuren is faced towards Kakashi’s newly assembled team, while the boys wait behind sealed doors, the lack of four members stark in its tale of failure. 

How unlucky, Hizuren thinks as his old brown eyes assess each one of his soldiers, their paper profiles updated from a high-class mission. With a steeliness that had allowed him to operate for Hokage for two terms, Hizuren weighed the pros and cons with how this mission had impacted the development of Konoha’s two most valued assets. In his mind’s eye, lies a large chess board. The death of a groomed, loyal pawn in exchange for two rooks. But was this not what they had planned for? 

A girl with no talent, no clan standing would be the perfect failsafe if there were a mission to fall sideways. In other words, cannon fodder. A large exhale covers the slight disdain that falls over his sagging skin, hands rubbing the grown beard on his chin as he uses a term that had fallen out of practice during Konoha’s time of peace. No one would suspect the planned death of a graduate student from one of the most predominant generations nor would they suspect him of being the mastermind behind the team formation. A team that replicated Kakashi’s former to foster more interdependent relations to the village, to keep an unwanted boy chasing after the attention of team members that are equally as lonely and a prized set of doujutsu that would re-enforce Konoha’s image.  

Hizuren was just not expecting his predictions to fall by the wayside so quickly. It all led to how he decided to play this out and the impacts of his actions would either reap fruitful benefits or potential flight risks. To kill two birds with one stone, Konoha had even gained a better asset throughout this ordeal. 

A new set of Sharingan eyes. 

Despite how hard the Uchiha heir tried to play off the most recent incident, there was no denying the bond he had formed throughout his time outside of the Academy if it were to have formed. The Sharingan had to be manifested through truly desperate, high-stakes situations and indeed it did. The team formations had completed its goals to establish roots within Konoha, giving more chance to bounded loyalty rather than scorn. The Uchiha was still a boy after all, easily malleable and predictable. A boy who was easily led and blinded by emotions rather than reason, despite being unaware of it himself. 

A faint memory hidden within the smoke stumbles across Hizurens awareness, a set of intelligent sharingan eyes offset with deepening wrinkles prickles at his consciousness as his old mind devises another political scheme. Hizuren doubts Sasuke will ever live up to one of the most frightening prodigies Hizuren ever had the chance to interact with, but that was why he had placed Sasuke with Kakashi. A powerful piece could still be effective in many ways.

The deep crackle of burning tobacco soothes Hiruzen's nerves as he deeply inhales, the rush of menthol cooling against his dry throat as he methodically sifts through the paperwork they had submitted for record evidence. His liver-spotted hands flip through the pages of their reports, ghosting over the chicken scratch Kakashi had adopted during his stint in ANBU Black Ops. Hizuren knows this report could never see the light of day.

The perfect blue skies, the sweet chirping of birds and rays of sunlight entering the windows was almost convincing that there were no problems at all. A growing scowl pulls away at the blank mask Hiruzen has been projecting once the children had left the debriefing.

“The damage has already been done, but I am assuming that you knew that.” Hiruzen asks for verbal confirmation, stressed at the nightmare of this political fiasco, not even looking at Kakashi as he hums in affirmation. Finally, at least there is one thing right.

“According to protocol, you were to immediately head back to base once you found out the client lied. The client would have been brought back as a prisoner, who would then be subjected to the trials and laws we have in place to prevent this specific catastrophe from happening.” Hiruzen angrily states, his flinty eyes cold as steel as his voice remains steady. There is no denying the mounting anger that is building as he further untangles the mess in front of him. The ball of anxiety only continues to grow the more Hiruzen's mind churns. It makes his urge to smoke that much stronger, a particularly nasty habit he had developed in stressful situations like this, but all shinobi had their vices to cope and his was the pipe. While Hiruzen was still polite in his mannerisms, both people knew how much of a thin visage it was compared to the veneer of courteous rage.

“You still would have had a fully operational, functional team that would have granted both you and Naruto protections against the Council. The bridge builder would still have been assassinated either way for his crimes,” Hiruzen says, decrypt fingers inching slowly towards his pipe and matchbox. “Instead, because of your negligence and failure as an adult, the team will have to be officially dissolved.”

This is what provokes the most emotional reaction from Kakashi, the urgency in his face as plain as day as the blistering summer heat threatens to find its way inside the stuffy office. Hiruzen analyzes the unconscious tics Kakashi shows in signs of distress, the feverish gripping of his crutches as Kakashi tries to stand up straighter to present a stronger front that is not lost on him. In fact, it furthers incenses him. It is in this moment that Hiruzen reminds himself how young Kakashi is despite being a high-ranking commander within his military force.

A foolish decision made by a man blinded by youth. A mistake as old as time. 

In some repressed and unaddressed ways, Kakashi was like the children he was assigned to; lost, and always pushing the boundaries. Consumed by the burning need to bring meaning into the world. The children were meant to act as a tether, but Hiruzen did not expect the complete lack of oversight that Kakashi had been encompassed by. It spelled bad situations for further missions. That could not happen under Hiruzen's watch. He could not suffer another fatal mistake that would put his position at risk. The Council was not above throwing him six feet under for Danzo. He never knew what political schemes his prior teammate had laid out, it was becoming more tiresome to navigate in old age.

“What the hell were you thinking when you allowed this mission to continue?” Hiruzen decides that he needs to get to the heart of the issue rather than prodding for questions he knows Kakashi won’t answer. As if to prove him right, Kakashi says nothing. “Due to the scale of this leak, it would be near impossible to eradicate any information that may now be in circulation. As your commanding officer, what compelled you to not follow Konoha's established peace clauses for small nations?”

“It was tough to recall,” Kakashi begins, which Hiruzen can’t help but feel incredulous. A seasoned Black OPS member not being able to recall an A ranked mission? Suspicion curls in his gut as Hiruzen takes a long pull from his old pipe. The tobacco does nothing to soothe him.

“I remember thinking that if Konoha was able to participate in the opening of the bridge, despite the false testimony of Tazuna, we would be inclined to take the share of the trade-routes.” Kakashi looks down onto the old flooring of their sealed office. Hiruzen says nothing about the possible recuperations of fiscal value Konoha could have bartered for. It was a good exchange. Cutthroat, considering that Wave had no political power and would be entirely on the whim of Konoha if they were to apply pressure. Wave also was not allied with any other large nation. It would have been the perfect scenario.

“There is one thing you are forgetting, Kakashi. Wave has a patriarchal system of transferring assets. Therefore, it wouldn’t fall onto Konoha to make this choice, but the heir to the family which owns the bridge.” Hiruzen flickers his old eyes to the open folders once more, looking at the quick family tree that had been etched out. Kakashi suddenly goes very still. Slightly tilting down his Hokage hat, allowing it to hover over his face and still allow him to analyze his soldier, Hiruzen pushes.

“You understand what that entails don’t you?”

“Sir, if I may speak up… wouldn’t that violate the treaty signed from the last war?” Kakashi remarked, charcoal eyes serious and dark as he looks at Hiruzen blatantly. Hiruzen promptly set down his pipe, a slight click against the rich wood that had been well maintained since Harishsima created it. The well-known treaty that had been drafted from the immense damage dealt from the casualties from the Third War; villages had been plundered, raped and burned as they had been caught in the crossfire. Small nations didn’t have the manpower or political power to stop the major nations from committing international war crimes to destroy their enemies’ fleets. Most of the casualties were always laid within the small nations and when the peace treaties were called, the small nations were to remain untouched. Small nations still held considerable value for clientele and trade. If one of the major nations were to make a move on small nations territory or involve national matters on foreign territory without explicit clearance, it would be considered a war crime. The perfect excuse to stop the false peace that had lingered after the last war. The perfect pretext to launch an attack against Konoha.

“Konoha has already violated the international treaty,” Hiruzen begins to inform Kakashi, “it was violated the moment you decided to continue the mission, when you and your assigned team went past Fires borders, the same borders that would have excused the bounties of the Demon Brothers who trespassed.” Hiruzen heaves a heavy sigh, rubbing his head as a sharp pain begins to radiate down his neck.

Kakashi feels himself deflating. The executioner's blade hovering coldly over his exposed neck.

“The moment you stepped foot outside of Fires borders, as a registered Jonin nonetheless and had three children alongside you, should have diplomatically and politically prevented you from committing bloodshed on Waves lands. Yet you violated this Kakashi, this is a serious blunder. You had a huge chance to turn back and report immediately to Konoha and you didn’t. There is no political excuse I could give to the Daimyo if called upon.” Hiruzen explains coldly, his words sharp as he hammers down the nightmare of the scenario they are currently facing. Hiruzen would not be able to breathe a word of this mission report to the official clan council. He would quickly need to distort the facts enough where his actions would not be questioned and for that to happen, he needed to take immediate action.

The only issue was that there was one dead child, one dead client, an unclaimed bounty that belonged to another nation and a fraudulent contract that had landed on his desk. It was a mission failure report filled with National Security leaks that reeked of political and socioeconomic nightmares. The fraudulent contract could not go unchecked, the Council would not allow Konoha the embarrassment. The Council would not allow another mistake to be made on his watch. Danzo would not sit still. 

“The violation to not commit war crimes on small national territory that was enacted as a requirement for calling for peace for the last war has been violated.” Hiruzen states, “Not to mention, the Kyuubi was seen and partially released.”

“Naruto is not at fault-”

“No,” Hiruzen crisply cuts in, “You are. I should have you benched for this permanently. This was a highly unprofessional mistake Kakashi, one that Konoha will have to answer for if this information gets into the wrong hands. I put you on this team because I allowed you to upkeep your promise to them and to also keep mine. I thought you were responsible enough that you wouldn’t have allowed this sort of situation to ever arise. You have been in the service long enough to make calls such as this.” Hiruzen harshly scolds, the smoke escaping from his mouth faintly tasting of ash as it smolders around the room. Old age had worn down his patience, and quite frankly, his tolerance. 

If other spy networks were to catch wind that the Kyuubi container was released in another nation’s territory, it could be seen as Konoha trying to expand their borders once more. Nations did not like the fact Konoha had the largest territory alongside trade routes and mercenary requests. It gave them too much power at the table, and everyone knew it. A blossoming headache threatens to ruin the nicotine buzz. Hiruzen grits his teeth in annoyance.

“So, tell me, how should Konoha handle this?” Hiruzen finally demands, his rage bursting as he stands in fury. His leather chair flies back, ricocheting off the wall as his voice thunders in the sealed room. Kakashi subtly flinches back as if struck. Hiruzen harshly exhales. Under the cover of his Hokage hat does he begin to pick out signs of strain within Kakashi’s form. The crutch couldn't hide how much Kakashi had preferred to keep this weight on his left leg. Slight tremors running through wiry legs and arms as the sunlight hit upon a light sheen of sweat lining the dirty face mask Kakashi refused to take off. Deep bags carved themselves into the pale, ghostly face that blankly stares back at him. Hiruzen sees it all, he knows that as soon as the mission failed that Kakashi had taken his students and ran. He just doesn't have the time to acknowledge it, there are bigger things at stake.

“There are leaks in confidential information lingering in Wave as of right now that will need to be disposed of and cannot be tied back to Konoha. Do you understand now? Because of your actions, we have committed a war crime that could entice other nations to follow. People may get the wrong idea about the use of the Kyuubi, Naruto’s identity could be leaked towards the public. The only silver lining I see is that Wave is not powerful enough to object to Konoha's demands if we decide to push through on this fraudulent contract, and that's if we decide to push through on this. The responsibility would fall on Wave, and their Lordship no longer have their main source of funds since they had also been assassinated.” Hizuren takes a moment to breath before continuing, “The only silver lining to this is that you did not take Zabuza’s body back with you nor any trophies that would suggest otherwise. You left immediately as soon as you realized the mission failed, which means that you didn’t linger around for the possible fall out.” Hiruzen scathes, an inner regret taking place from decommissioning Kakashi from the political and military scene for far too long. In his absence, things had gotten more dire. Kakashi had gone soft. It was one of the miscalculations that Hiruzen would have to take credit for.

“You have not only endangered Konoha but your team. Normally, Naruto would be protected if he was in a fully formed unit but now that there is a missing member, the Council will try to advocate for a private education of the container. Especially with this damning report, you will be deemed incapable of any sort of leadership role.”

“I will not let them take him.” Kakashi jumps up, hands falling to his sides rather than clenched. The state of his physical condition was drastic since the last time Kakashi had taken an A rank mission; it had displayed a significant lack of progress. Hiruzen shakes his head, the look of frenzied distress on Kakashi’s face allows for a pang of pity to shoot through him but with an iron fist, snuffs it out before it can cloud his judgment.

“So then,” Hiruzen calls upon him solemnly, placing the decision in Kakashi’s hands. “What do you propose?” 

☁☁

Further into the walk, does the faint scent become heavier. 

The stench caught her nose. 

What is that? Sakura wonders, nose wrinkled as she tries to breathe in through her parched mouth. It aggravates her taunt, stiff chest.

“Don’t look.” The man warns, easily falling back into silence. 

Unable to resist her curiosity, Sakura delicately looks to the side, as far as her eyes will let her without moving her head far enough to trigger her pinched nerves. A voice unlike her own leaves her mouth, mortified. Her round eyes quickly find the source of the putrid stench that festers in the runoff river. 

A floating corpse washes ashore, their body fat transformed into a rancid, almost putty-like consistency. The skin from the corpses hands and feet had become so loose they had looked like scrunched up socks and gloves instead. The thick heavy buzzing of corpse flies, jerking around the bloated, stinking cadaver had become more obvious the longer they deviated from the main trails. Sakura spots the blood-tinged foam that had leaked from the dead man's lips and nose, little eggs being formed under the skin to hatch more flies. Sakura knew that the body had most likely been attacked by flies after just a few hours in the water.

Corpse-maggots, the reptilian voice corrects her, faint lectures from the academy covering death becoming reality. Flies that hatched after a few days from a corpse's skin were called corpse-maggots. Sakura momentarily curses her memory for supplying her brain with information that paints a more gruesome picture. She feels the urge to shrink back as the flies land on the wooden beams she is resting upon. Her shallow breath quickens as her eyes analyze how much extreme violence the corpse had been subjected to. There was extensive bleeding from the back that suggested that they had been mauled before meeting his death. 

What Kakashi and Naruto did, her inner coyishly whispers, mean and all too gleeful. Then the corpse gives way to hundreds. Corpses with rapidly decaying faces and partially eaten eyes. Spotting the yellowish-red beads forming around the mouth, Sakura can’t find it in herself to look away. Then she spots the corpses with severe scorch marks. 

What she did. 

To come face to face with her own fragile mortality and how she had taken others down with her amidst all the chaos was too much for her to handle. 

Tthe world had been drenched in her favorite color (ferocious red, a malice that bled her dry and scorched her veins as a horrible fox laughed cruelly at her) and now it was doused with blue, the water that had flooded her lungs and now carved themselves into the sagging, loose flesh of her opponents who had been thrown off the bridge like her. 

Buoyant corpses in the river, putty-like fat seeping from their sagging skin and corpse maggots buzzing in unison made for a grotesque sight. Sakura has never seen so many dead people in her life, it should make her feel weak in the knees but her limbs tingle with pins and needles instead. 

“What-” Sakura chokes out, her chest tight, “Why are they all floating?” 

The real question she wants to ask is why are there so many?

The man shrugs, not even bothering to look back or spare a glance at the buoyant corpses that float in the infested waters. To think she filled her mouth and lungs with that water. To have joined them. 

Bloated and rancid.

“It happens to corpses, when the gasses build up inside them.” The man finally speaks, his voice monotone, “when the organs finally decompose, they float instead of sink. But eventually, after they decompose after two weeks, they should either be eaten or sunken again.” He is trying to teach her, but it’s how distant he sounds that puts her off. He must have seen a lot to not be phased by this, but what could have possibly been worse than this? 

“I feel bad for them.” Sakura whispers aghast. Her limp, twitching hand attempting to curl into her chest. 

“Don’t.” His voice cuts like a polished dagger, “they wouldn’t have spared you a second thought.”

Her back burns and blood coats her mouth.