[Red Sands: In Search of the Scarlet Dawn]

Breakfast was an awkward, perhaps slightly tense, affair.

She could hear the veneer of calmness, and the calamity which swirled beneath as she sat there, trying her hardest not to scrape her plate. Her hands shook ever so slightly, and the fact that her father kept on reminding her that he was her father, new memories or no, was the icing on the metaphorical cake.

“Sister, would you like to reacquaint yourself with the joys of riding?” Ichiro asked, tilting his head as he looked at her in a way which had her knowing deep down that he would never accept no for an answer. “The day looks to be lovely, and I have already asked the kitchens to make a picnic for us – and others, should any of our other family wish to join us.”

“I would love to,” Ren declared, gazing at her pointedly, and Sakura only shrank down in her seat. “Sister, you should really stop flinching at the word family. You are one of us – family.”

Itsuki, her quiet third brother nodded. “Would someone with amnesia not suddenly be a family member because they lost their memories?” he asked, gazing at her with those blue, blue eyes.

“That’s different!” she exclaimed, lips closing with a soft pop as those blue eyes only stared at her and made her realise just how much of an empty argument her words were.

“See?” One blonde brow rose.

“Shut up,” she muttered, glaring at her breakfast as if it had personally offended her.

“A family ride across our grounds sounds lovely,” her father intoned, and Sakura closed her eyes, knowing her fate was sealed from the moment he said those words. Her father was the voice of all decision-making in that house, so a family picnic there would be.

“We can also discuss control exercises,” Ren said, smiling and evidently spying her confused look. “You know – for your magic, darling sister,” he explained, green eyes boring into her own, and she was distinctly reminded that they were the only two with green eyes in that household. Glaring similarities between family members, inherited from their mother. “Unless you’d rather shed black smoke whenever you lose control of your… negative emotions.”

She glanced down at her hands, remembering the whisps of black mist which had curled around them so very recently. “So no one else can figure out I had Negative Mana Reflux,” she mumbled, glaring at her hands as if that would solve the problem there and then.

“It would cause quite the stir, and if there’s anything I know about you these days, is that you might be just a tad uncomfortable with causing a stir,” Ren said, reaching out to pat her shoulder, his hand a comforting, familiar weight. “It would undoubtedly bring a lot of pitying gazes your way too, should others learn of what’s happened to you…”

Sakura snorted, vaguely recalling the few memories of the hall full of others her age who’d looked down at her ‘condemnation event’ with a sick glee and a hungry anticipation. “They would probably just say, ‘I got what I deserved,’ knowing them,” she muttered, pushing her food around on her plate with her fork, shoulders sinking at the thought that she would probably eventually have to see them all again. Her eyes narrowed, a dark expression carving itself out on her face as she thought on Uchiha Sasuke and how different that one was – compared to the one she had known before she had died. She paused, the thought that she had actually died ringing about in her brain as she sat there, teeth clenched, a sick feeling stirring in the pit of her belly.

“Then they are uneducated imbeciles too full of hate,” Ichiro said, lip curling. “Nobody deserves to be—” he cut himself off, blue eyes flickering over to her. “Nobody deserves the circumstances leading up to Negative Mana Reflux. Nobody. No one should wish them upon another, unless they have no heart, or are otherwise prepared to face the same just deserts.”

“Hear, hear,” Itsuki murmured. “I’m going to go and saddle my horse,” he said suddenly, chair screeching as he stood and hurried out of the room as quickly as humanly possible.

“Don’t mind him,” her father said, looking her way. “He often excuses himself from discussions which become too sappy, in his own words, too serious, or too political. He takes after his mother in that way, goddess rest her soul…”

She stiffened at that, realisation and truth sinking into her like a iron weight in her stomach. “Mother is…” she trailed off, distinctly recalling staring at the portrait of her mother in her father’s office then. A memory which was supposedly hers.

“She passed while you were still young,” her father said, undoubtedly having had years to come to terms with that alternate version of Haruno Mebuki’s death. The Haruno Kizashi she had once known would have been inconsolable. Idly, she wondered if both her parents were just that after her own death. “We can exchange stories – or I can simply tell you stories of… before when we go out for our picnic. We shouldn’t let Itsuki have too much of a head start, otherwise he might wander off on his own. Which would defeat the purpose of this family walk.”

Riding a horse was a strange experience for her. As a shinobi there had never been much point to riding a horse, when she could move faster in the trees. Horses hardly held much value for shinobi, and yet she wasn’t a shinobi right then and there, and so riding a horse around the green fields and trees of the Haruno Estate it was.

Her horse was a black mare with a single patch of white – a star on her face – and in truth, she thought the horse rather lovely. Though apparently she hadn’t ridden much before, not that she actually remembered any of it. She wondered if other memories would resurface, proving that what her existence was, was merely the result of new memories. Fear curled in her stomach at that, part of her wanting nothing more than to reject the idea that she had simply gained memories that night.

That she had died, stayed dead, and remnants of her ‘old’ personality were peeking through. A sigh escaped her, even as she wondered then about reincarnation and whether the Pure Lands had only ever been a myth. She pondered on who her brothers might remember being if they ever experienced Negative Mana Reflux. Not that she ever wanted them to, given what it apparently entailed.

Idly, she wondered if she would remember anything relating to that – if anything like that had actually taken place. She couldn’t help but ponder over it, anxiety nibbling at her gut like an old friend. Being reincarnated and gaining memories – if that was what it truly was – was entirely too stressful and exhausting. “How much further will we be travelling?” she asked, glancing around to look at Ren and Ichiro who were riding in tandem with her while her father and Itsuki rode ahead just a little bit.

“Are you hungry already?” Ichiro raised an eyebrow, glancing at her from beneath the fringe he usually kept tucked back with bobby pins. In fact, his hair was usually artfully styled, long as it was. Though his hair length didn’t have too much on Ren’s. Her second brother probably had a similar length of hair to her. Most of the Haruno Family, barring her third brother who was the only one to inherit their mother’s dusky-blonde, had their father’s pink hair.

“Not yet,” she replied, legs already aching, much to her own chagrin. She might be doing more horse riding, it seemed, if only to improve her fitness and leg strength. “But I am, unfortunately, tired.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow that time. “Unfortunately?”

Sakura shrugged. “I used to be at the peak of fitness.” She crossed her arms as best she could, considering she was riding a horse and holding the reins. “Forgive me if it chafes to be brought to this level,” she said, gesturing to all of her right then and there.

“Then perhaps you could join myself and Ren,” Ichiro said. “We participate in fitness training to aid in our swordsmanship lessons which father imparts to us.”

“Swordsmanship?” Sakura felt her head swivel, green eyes locking on her eldest brother. It was funny how easy it was to think of them as brothers, the faint, few, and far between memories of ‘her’ as a child echoing in her brain. It made the strange feeling in her belly dissipate ever so slightly.

“You know, sister,” Ren said, an impish grin on his face. “Where we learn to wield our blades—”

“I know what swordsmanship is, you dolt!” she hissed, glaring at her second eldest brother who was all too good at prodding at the fires of her temper.

Ren chuckled. “I am glad that sharp tongue of yours isn’t hiding away any longer,” he murmured, fondness suffusing his expression as he looked at her.

Sakura frowned, glancing ahead to where her father and brother rode, silently wishing she knew how to ride better so she could get away from her insufferable brothers. “You’re insufferable,” she decided to inform them, sighing as she gazed ahead, not wanting to meet those blue or green eyes which stared at her with earnest affection.

Brothers were strange creatures.

Though she supposed that as the ‘shinobi’ she hadn’t really had much information on brothers. Naruto had been an orphan. She had been an only child. Sasuke’s ‘brother’ situation she highly doubted was the norm. From what she was aware any form of fratricide was highly frowned upon, unless the sibling in question was a murderous traitor who’d betrayed the village. That much left her with having vague echoes of ‘her’ memories which helped her to feel slightly less like an imposter.

“I will join in your swordsmanship lessons,” she declared, knowing that she didn’t have any kunai or throwing stars to hand. She also had the distinct impression they might not have existed at all in those strange lands which occasionally saw a friendly face which wasn’t quite so ‘friendly’ anymore. “I would also like to learn to ride better, so I would appreciate lessons,” she said. “On top of my other studies, of course.” She paused for a moment, biting her lip as the musing came up that she actually wanted to learn more about her brothers. Even if she truly was an imposter, she had been welcomed by the Haruno Family of that place. Family First, the motto whispered in her head, and she tightened her grip on the reins. “I need to learn more about this place… given how my memories… well, you claim they have been overwritten, I suppose is the best word for it.” Her shoulders sunk, glumness mixed with excited curiosity swirling within her. It was an odd combination, to say the least.

“You know,” Ren said, still grinning in that dopey way which made her want to punch him in his perfectly straight teeth. She wasn’t sure what it was specifically about Ren which gave rise to that urge, but it was something more unique to him. “I never thought I would see the day that you were eager to learn. I distinctly remember having to drag you kicking and screaming to you writing lessons. You drove your poor teacher to tears that day.”

Sakura frowned, something cold wrapping its icy fingers around her heart. “Do you miss her?” she asked, staring vacantly ahead, bitter at the thought of the echoes of memories that she was apparently missing. “The ‘me’ you used to know?”

“Does that much matter?” Ichiro questioned. “You are as you are right now, and what has been done to you cannot be undone,” he said matter-of-factly, sorrow overtaking his expression as he sat there in the saddle. It was his turn to stare solemnly ahead, it seemed. “In truth, you were a complete and utter brat before. How quaint it is that you can only miss what you once had when it is gone. Yet you are my sister, through and through, and whatever trauma was afflicted upon you – that can neither be undone. You are vastly more mature now, and the only reason for me to despise this is because of what happened to shape you into the figure you cast now. I do not despise you, sister – never you. Only the bastards who have dared to harm you. Make no mistake that we will do everything in our power to find them and bring them to justice. One way or another, that is.”

Ren tilted his head. “Would it be wrong of me to say that I quite like you as you are now,” he spoke, that grin of his curling slyly at his lips. “After all, you are so much more fun to tease like this…”

“Ren!” she hissed, silently daring him to try.

“Father!” Ren called, cupping his hands around his lips. “This is a good spot, I think!”

Picnics weren’t things she had been on very much before – and camping with her teammates was very much a different thing, or so she was finding. They were yet another time for family discussions, as all mealtimes seemed to be. The difference to her life before was slightly jarring, if she was truthful. Though, she mused wryly, that was probably to be expected what with the fact that she had died – even if she was alive right there and then. Her hands shook as she stared at them, memories of the moment of her death ringing in her ears.

“So you wish to learn the blade?” her father spoke, blue eyes boring into her own green ones, and Sakura felt like an object on display.

One pink brow rose. “Problem?”

A chuckle escaped him even as Ren smirked where he sat, poised on the edge of their picnic blanket. “Hardly, though it is what noble society would consider to be an odd hobby for a lady in any case.” He shrugged, sitting back slightly, hands resting on their picnic blanket as he stared at the canopy of leaves shielding them from the worst of the sun. “Though we are a dukedom, dear daughter,” he said. “It is only natural that those of the highest class should seek to set standards, rather than adhere to the suggestions of others.”

Ichiro smiled. “Careful,” he said. “You don’t want father to get into a discussion about what it means to be a noble, and traditions which ought to be observed rather than trampled upon – unless you want to be here all day debating about it.”

“Well, I do need to learn these kinds of things,” she mumbled, folding her arms as she sat there, sandwiched between Ichiro and Itsuki. The joys of being situated towards the middle of the picnic blanket.

Ren smiled at her, pressing his hands together as if in prayer and nodding towards her from behind their father’s line of sight.

Sakura felt her eyebrow twitch.

“Were you not a noble then?” her father asked, peering at her curiously once more. “In your… past?”

It was her turn to shrug. “No,” she said flatly. “I was… well, I suppose I was like a knight, though the profession wasn’t called that.”

Her father hummed. “Interesting. Though that means I will definitely have to refresh your memory of what it means to be a noble.” Blue eyes narrowed, a frown appearing on his face. “I suddenly feel as though I have been far too absent to you as of late. Everyone always said I should remarry to provide you with a mother figure…”

“Pardon my language,” Itsuki murmured, “but fuck that.”

Ichiro sighed, pinching his crinkled brow. “What is it with the amount of crass language in this house?”

Itsuki pointed a finger at her. “Blame her. She started it!”

Sakura felt her eyebrow twitch once more, the urge to tackle her brother and wrestle with him suddenly overwhelming her as she stared into those mostly blank blue eyes. “How old are you?” she asked, instead of giving into a fight she wouldn’t be able to win in her current state. She needed to build up her training and her muscles before even thinking about beating anyone in a fight – what with the fact that most of her fighting strategies were designed for the brute force she had once been able to pack into a single punch.

Her chakra thrummed beneath her skin, hand clenching into a fist as she reminded herself that her strength was only a routine of training she had already done once before away. She had done it once. She could do it again.

It was just that she now had to tackle a new, stranger, possibly more volatile energy at the same time. The way it seemed to respond to her emotions, black smoky whisps curling around her hands whenever she became highly distressed – chakra had never done that. Which meant that it was time to hit the books and learn.

Her gaze drifted to her brother Ren then, reminded that he was supposedly rather knowledgeable when it came to magic. Yet he was also training in swordsmanship. She wondered if there was a profession called magic swordsman or if her fantasy-riddled brain was simply running away from her. There was a demon king and a saint to consider too, she mused idly, reminded that it wasn’t a game she was playing. That there was her life, and there was a possibility of something supernatural on the horizon.

“You know,” her father spoke, cutting off whatever her brothers were saying between themselves. “Should the Holy Lands not wish to take you for training as a saintess, then, depending on how you do in your swordsmanship lessons, you might want to think about becoming either a knight, a magic swordsman, or even a holy knight.”

“Wouldn’t it be a magic swordswoman?” Itsuki asked, flicking some of his short blonde lacks behind his ear once more.

Part of her cackled in glee at the answer to her earlier question, her heart feeling lighter whenever the shackles of trauma and cuckoo seemed to slip. Yet they were still there, still chaining her down, and Sakura could only muse on how she was supposed to adjust.

“I’m gonna be the best saintess!” a childish voice drifted through her memories, and Sakura could only blink as she remembered a younger Ren patting her on the head, lifting her up, and beaming up at her.

“Then I’ll be the best magic swordsman around!”

Her stomach twisted, the words magic swordsman ringing about her brain, and she had to ponder then on how much truth there was to the idea that she was still the duke’s daughter, just with memories of a shinobi.

The more she thought on it, the more vivid and possibly true of an idea it became.

She didn’t quite know how she felt about that.

“While we’re here though,” her father said, pulling her attention back onto him once again. “Are there any other lessons or subjects you wish to take?” He tilted his head. “There is only so much time in every day, so you might need a proper plan drawn up, given how much I fear is needed to be taught.”

Sakura blinked. “Not off the top of my head,” she said, well aware that there might be other topics she would need to cover that she didn’t know existed. “But if that changes, I’ll let you know.”

Her father nodded, ponytail fluttering in the breeze, and Sakura could only stare at him, the similarities and differences to the father she had once known made all the more apparent as he sat there, not attempting to crack any jokes. If anything, there was a rather melancholy air about him.

Ren’s laugh cut through her musings. The melancholy wasn’t shared, she thought to herself idly, a hum of amusement escaping her as she stared at the people around her. At the family she had somehow acquired.