[Red Sands: In Search of the Scarlet Dawn]

There were a number of facts she came to learn over the course of the next several hours; one of which being that somehow her room was the most intact and the only habitable one of the bedrooms after Ichiro and a possessed Itsuki had torn up a vast majority of the rest of the manor. Arguably, the more important fact she’d learnt was that Itsuki snored like a chainsaw, which was likely the reason why she woke up in an irritable mood that very morning.

At least she’d had an entire mattress to herself, what with her brothers insisting that it was only proper that she slept on her own bed in her own room, she mused, even as she wondered how the Holy Knights, and their beloved Saintess, had slept, camped overnight on their estate as they had elected to. Idly, she wondered exactly what the Holy Lands were like – there was, after all, a slim likelihood that she would end up venturing there one day soon, or maybe further in the future.

Yet the Holy Lands were hardly the main concern right then and there. The Haruno Estate had been utterly wrecked in the course of a single day, or, rather, a matter of hours, if that. Her home there had nearly been destroyed, and she might as well have nearly died.

The cooks and a vast majority of the estate staff had survived, which had thankfully meant they had breakfast cooked for them. It was a luxury she had become quite used to over the past few weeks. Sakura blinked, part of her registering just how short of a time she had remembered spending in that world.

Time had passed by so quick, ever since she had… remembered her past life, or so everyone was constantly reminding her, and part of her was almost terrified by that fact.

Life was fleeting, part of her mused, even as her brain chose that moment to remember broken bones and tire squeals. She breathed out then, willing her thoughts to move on from the memory. It was in the past right then and there, and she had the present to focus on. Sakura shook her head, drawing herself from her thoughts as Ren waved a hand in front of her face.

“What?” she grumbled, glaring at Itsuki then as her brother yawned and murmured about what a good night’s sleep he’d had.

“It shouldn’t be for much longer,” Ren mumbled, noting where her stare had ended up.

“I could feel his snores through the floorboards,” she muttered in response to that, dragging a hand through her hair and scowling then.

“It’s just until another of the rooms are fixed. Our butler has already made arrangements with the craftsmen for repairs. He’s efficient, that one,” Ren said, filling her with a glimmer of hope then for some peaceful nights ahead.

“We should hurry and get ready to face the day,” Ichiro chimed in, looking between them both severely – telling of the fact that he was still at odds with Ren for letting her nearly die after his explicit instructions otherwise. Not that he could logically blame him, Sakura mused, casting a stern side-eye at her brother, but then emotions were nothing but illogical half the time. “We will need to assist the Holy Knights with whatever they need… I suspect there’s a reason, or perhaps a few, that they have stayed rather than returning to the Holy Lands.”

“What reason?” she asked automatically, curiosity running unchecked then as she yawned and wrapped herself up in her dressing gown. It was going to be a pyjama morning, part of her had already decided, uncaring of whether she would happen to see any of the alternate-founders. She was in the comfort of her own home right there and then.

If anyone gave her any odd looks, then she had a slipper and a well of spite with which to beat them with.

“Think, sister,” Ichiro said, his face grave, even as he stirred her from her violent fantasy of beating someone up with just a rubber-soled slipper. “Why did those demons attack our estate, do you suppose?” he questioned, and Sakura felt her brow furrow at that. “It was a planned attack, or so I’d wager, and with planning comes motive and reasoning.”

“But how did they get inside in the first place?” she mumbled, frowning as she remembered the wardstone she had visited with her uncle and her brother. Albeit there had been no time to properly inspect the building containing their estate’s demon defences, but Sasori had told her of what it did. And how its defences had fully shut down whilst they’d been in the Greblin’s stomach. She tilted her head then, wondering if she’d ever get the chance to learn more about the demons that plagued that land.

She glanced at her hands, fingers curling into semblances of fists as she mulled over how much stronger she would need to become. Next time – if there ever was a next time, despite her hoping otherwise – she would be the one to clear an estate and have the bodies of her enemies lined up neatly and all ready to be disposed of by the time the Holy Knights arrived.

“Until the Holy Knights and the Saintess finish their investigation, we can’t be sure,” Ichiro said, chewing on his lip then, even as they shuffled out of the door behind Ren – who looked altogether far too zombie-like at that current moment in time.

Sakura blinked, the horror movies she had occasionally watched an entire lifetime ago alongside her teammates, more often than not, coming to the forefront of her mind, along with the plaguing thought—“Ichiro, brother,” she spoke, grabbing her brother’s attention before she could dissuade herself otherwise. “Are there any type of undead demons?” she questioned, wondering then if zombies actually existed in that world.

“Are you talking about demons who posses corpses, like lower class manipulator demons, or are you referring to the reanimation of corpses as such?" her brother questioned, arching one delicate eyebrow then as he glanced her way.

She squinted at him. “There’s a difference?” she questioned, part of her swallowing at the thought of corpses trudging around, demanding brains as sustenance. Had the zombie films she’d watched somehow come to life in her reality there? She tilted her head, staring at her brother intently until he caved and gave her the answer she wanted.

Ichiro frowned, a familiar expression settling onto his face as he started to worry. “Has someone been speaking to you of necromancy?” he questioned, brow furrowing then. “That is… a particularly repugnant brand of magic, and an old one as well. Not a topic to go into before breakfast, I would recommend.”

“So they do exist?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“They are not technically classified as demons as such,” Ichiro said, looking incredibly putout by her refusal to drop the subject when he had all but stated to. “Reanimated corpses fall under a forbidden branch of dark magic. I can teach you about the history of that – it’s quite interesting, you know, and it contributed towards a stigma against dark magic for a time—”

“That’s not a pre-breakfast topic either,” Ren muttered, interrupting their brother before he could go on a tangent, concealing a yawn behind his hand all the while. “I’m too tired to talk history right now,” he grumbled, side-eyeing Itsuki as he whistled merrily on the way to the dining room.

Ichiro hummed under his breath, looking rather disappointed by the lacking interest in history. “Well, anyway,” he said, turning then to their brother who had been most affected by the demonic incursion. “Are you sure you’ve recovered enough, Itsuki?” he questioned, frowning at the smile that their brother wore.

“I’m fine,” he remarked, and Sakura found herself squinting at him and the almost hollow look there was to him.

“It’s perfectly fine if you haven’t,” Ichiro reminded, evidently having cottoned on to the fact that Itsuki was lying through his teeth. Or rather, Itsuki hadn’t fooled any of them into thinking he was fine in the first place, no matter how nice of a rest he’d had.

Sakura felt her teeth grind together at the reminder of just how loudly he snored. Yet she’d have her room back to herself sooner rather than later from the sounds of things… She breathed out then, a soft sigh escaping her as she glanced at the youngest of her brothers there.

“You were possessed,” she pointed out, still entirely unaware as to what the supposed recovery schedule of someone who’d been possessed was. Somehow she doubted that her own experience was particularly common; after all, she had holy magic, and that was seemingly a whole different kettle of fish when it came to possession.

“And?” Itsuki questioned, the false smile slipping from his lips quick enough to give her whiplash.

“Ah… you were unconscious for most of yesterday… and during the time you’ve been possessed, so you wouldn’t be aware; she was possessed as well,” Ren said, and Sakura felt his eyes on her there, blue eyes searching. “I’d recommend you both speak with each other about it,” he remarked, brow furrowing. “Neither myself or Ichiro have much experience with the aftermath of possession.”

“So we’re supposed to bond over this experience, or something?” she questioned, feeling her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Does shared trauma really bring people together?” she mumbled, touching her throat then, remembering the feeling of that demon forcing its way down and into her. Her gaze met her brother’s confused one, even as the mild urge to cause mischief rose in her. “Did it deepthroat you too?” she asked, enjoying the sound of Ichiro choking on his own spit then, even as Ren snorted in a mixture of shock and amusement.

Itsuki only stared at her, a bemused expression on his face as he looked at her as though she were some sort of rare creature he’d stumbled across in the middle of a desert. He squinted at her then, seeming incredibly hesitant as his lips parted. “Why… would you phrase it like that?” he questioned, hand going to his own throat.

“Sakura,” Ichiro butted in, seeming then as if he were about to get into a conversation about exactly what was appropriate to say.

“Well…” she tilted her head, ignoring her eldest brother as she remembered the wave of helplessness she had felt when that demon had taken control of her. “It violated our minds… our bodies… and made us puppets, didn’t it?”

Itsuki only grunted in agreement to that statement.

She glanced down at her hands then, clenching them into fists. “I’m going to get stronger,” she said matter-of-factly, a smile curling at her lips that was more teeth and threat than anything else. “And beat the ever-loving shit out of every demon that crosses my path,” she stated, feeling a little more at ease as the first thing that came out of Ichiro’s mouth was—

“Language,” Ichiro grumbled, looking utterly fed-up by that point.

“You’re fighting a losing battle there, and you know it,” Ren muttered, and Sakura could only snicker at that.

“Let’s hurry up and get to breakfast,” Itsuki mumbled, brushing past them all then in a rush to get to the dining room.

Sakura dogged his footsteps, part of her curious as to what other parts of the estate were looking like. Part of her almost wanted to see one Uzumaki Mito again, even if she was currently far too underdressed for that matter. Part of her almost wanted to ask her if she knew anyone by the name of Uzumaki Naruto. She closed her eyes, breathing out a sigh even as Itsuki cast the doors to the dining room open.

“You certainly took your time,” their uncle spoke, looking eerily immaculate as he sat there, steaming teacup in hand.

“Can you blame us?” Ichiro questioned, a delicate brow raising at that.

Sakura tuned them out, attention drawn to the massive hole blown in the wall and the faint clattering of workmen outside. It was almost funny to part of her, that her home had been intact only the day before. Everything could change so quickly, part of her mused, ignoring the sound of screeching tyres that haunted her mind whenever she dared to think about herself and her thoughts for too long.

“—outside,” Sasori said, even as she blinked in confusion.

“What’s outside?” she asked, glancing then at the hustle and bustle through the conveniently positioned hole in the wall. Part of her was ever so grateful to have grabbed her dressing gown before heading down for breakfast, even as the sharp morning air nipped at her nose.

Her uncle only sighed. “As I just said, the Saintess and those three knights are outside – and they’re searching for something,” he explained, looking put out at having to repeat his words.

“Then perhaps we ought to assist them,” Ichiro said matter-of-factly. “Whilst Father is away, we are the only ones who can assist them… especially if whatever they are seeking is within the treasury.” His finger tapped his lip, eyes darting over to their newest window even as the maids and other servants of the Haruno Duchy arrived with breakfast for the five of them.

It was almost exactly the same as the breakfast of the morning before, and Sakura let herself be lulled into that eerie sense of normalcy as life returned to some semblance of familiarity within the Haruno Duchy.

The sunlight was bright, telling of the approach of the heat of summer, warmer winds starting to drift up from Suna. Sakura supposed that was something to be grateful for, what with how holey their home now was. Rain would only make the repairs go that much slower. Silently, she prayed the rain and winds would hold off for another week at least. With how quickly the repairs were taking place, she didn’t think it would take more than that to have at least the outer shell of the buildings all shored up once more. What gods in that world was she supposed to pray to in order to prevent that? Her brow furrowed at that, and she made a mental note to research that information when she got the chance.

Somehow she doubted the Saintess and those Holy Knights would look favourably on her having no idea of their religion… more so when she was supposed to be some sort of candidate to go to those lands… Sakura pursed her lips, wondering then when the small little details would stop throwing her off. She wondered if she’d ever stop hearing the squeal of tires and the gut-wrenching sound of her once-best friend screaming her name.

Scowling, she pushed herself to her feet, mentally deciding it was time for her to wander and try to take her mind off of things. Training could come later, once her thoughts had cleared. Or, if she couldn’t take her mind off of things, then she could train to the point of exhaustion and then fall asleep and probably not have any nightmares… She tilted her head, the idea having a veil of familiarity to it, and idly she wondered just who had given her those ideas of how to empty her mind. It was far too unhealthy of a method to have come from Ino.

Her teeth ground together at the thought of her best friend. “Happy thoughts,” she muttered like the mantra it was turning into. “Happy thoughts…”

She laced up her boots, hurrying out of her room and down the stairs, dressed only in a simple cream-coloured tunic, with a set of beige trousers to keep her legs from burning beneath the harsh rays of the sun. It was her preferred outfit for exercising in, what with the limited amount of fabrics available in that place.

Yet that was perhaps the consequence of the difference in threats there in that place. Shinobi had, after all, tended to prioritise freedom of movement to outmanoeuvre their enemies. Knights – which were seemingly as commonplace as shinobi in that world – prioritised standing their ground and fighting with heavy armour. There was no current pressing need for better fabrics that didn’t provide protection like there was for better, sturdier armour… and that might explain why the stretchy, quick-drying fabrics she was used to didn’t yet exist… Sakura tilted her head, humming under her breath as her brain ticked over those thoughts.

There was so much for her to learn, and part of her thought that she just didn’t have enough time on her hands.

“What exactly has you so lost in thought?”

Sakura blinked, her frazzled brain taking a moment to register her uncle stood in front of her. His arms were folded across his chest, the pale white of the sleeves a harsh contrast with the damasked red covering his torso. “Everything, these days,” she answered after a few moments of awkward staring.

“Then simplify it down,” Sasori said with that cutting logic of his. “Your luck is a funny thing, and I have the strangest of feelings that this”—he gestured at the estate around them—“is only the beginning.”

Her eyes narrowed, heart thudding in her chest as her ears caught a strange murmured chant in the wind. “What do you mean?” she asked, brow furrowing because yes, her luck was an abysmal thing—and yet… She swallowed thickly, a familiar unease settling into her bones themselves.

One perfectly-shaped red brow rose. “Do I look like a seer or a prophet?”

“They exist?”

Her uncle pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing away his exasperation. “That hardly matters right now.” He stepped forwards, finger poking her smack bang in the centre of her forehead. “What matters right now is getting stronger – at least for you. You’re pitiably weak compared to… well, before,” he said, and Sakura felt her shoulders hunch in on themselves.

He was right, after all.

She was pitiably weak in comparison to her past life, and she had the strangest of feelings that her enemies in that life would only grow stronger and stronger. But she didn’t have any enemies yet… did she? Her eyebrows knotted together, her mind ticking over the information she did know—

“Come with me,” Sasori ordered, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Her feet were moving without a second thought, trailing behind her uncle as he led her through the gardens of the estate to a place she knew fairly well by that point in time. The training grounds. They were still intact, barely looking as though they had been touched by the devastation which had befallen the rest of the estate.

There were traces of black blood here and there, scattered in the dirt and sand, and a few claw marks on the walls, but other than that it was fine. That place was, perhaps, the only part of the estate that she could linger in and pretend that the day prior hadn’t happened.

It was also incredibly empty, what with how everyone else was apparently otherwise occupied. She had almost expected to see Itsuki there, working off his frustrations, but he was obviously elsewhere. Then again, she mused, she didn’t exactly know how Itsuki usually dealt with frustration and stress… She swallowed thickly, wondering when they would next be able to share a meal together. Ichiro had, after all, skipped their light luncheon only an hour before – too busy guiding the Holy Knights and the Saintess around their estate. Ren was holed up in the library, researching Barrier Sigils.

“Sorry, Sister,” had been his words when she had hunted him down in the interim between breakfast and lunch. “I won’t have time to talk you through this right now… the estate is too vulnerable. I need to help Ichiro with shoring up our defences.”

Her lips pursed, remembering the trace amounts of red she had seen beneath his nose, his handkerchief evidently having missed a few spots.

“Are we going to train?” she asked, tilting her head as she glanced around.

“Indeed,” he answered, throwing a wooden sword her way that she just about caught. “We are.”

“We’re sparring?” she questioned, staring at the training sword in her grasp. “Not with daggers this time?”

“You have more practice with the sword,” Sasori said, holding up two wooden daggers. “It will give you a longer reach – you wouldn’t last ten seconds against me with a pair of daggers. Not without a severe handicap at the very least. I’m hoping you’ll at least last twenty seconds with the sword.”

Sakura winced, part of her reminding herself that her uncle had years on her in that world. Years in which he’d trained himself, so it was only natural that he’d be stronger… She chewed on her lip, tightening her grip on her training sword and lunging forwards.

The impact rattled through her hands, wood colliding with wood as he blocked her strike with a practiced ease.

Then suddenly she was on the back foot.

Her uncle was fast – she had known that much from the few sessions when he had taught her how to use those same style of daggers that were currently being wielded against her in a terrifyingly proficient fashion. Yet the aim of the game wasn’t to win, she reminded herself, blocking as many blows as she could with her meagre skill in swordplay.

“You’re letting me control the pace of this fight,” her uncle declared, not sounding the slightest bit out of breath as he all but danced around her.

She grit her teeth, gearing up for her next swing, wooden sword arcing out towards him and deflecting smoothly off his own training dagger.

The next thing she knew was her training sword flying out of her hands to clatter against the paving stone some five metres away and she was on her backside staring up at her uncle in confusion.

“Dammit,” she hissed, fingers shaking from the impact.

“Get up,” Sasori demanded, wooden daggers still levelled towards her threateningly. “This fight isn’t over.”

Sakura blinked, confusion twisting her expression into something utterly befuddled. “But you disarmed me?”

“And so might your enemies,” he said, making her blood run cold at the thought. “Then what will you do?” her uncle questioned. “Just lie on your back and let them kill you?” He tilted his head. “You’re trying to play by this world’s logic when you don’t need to. You have chakra, unlike me, and that means you don’t have to start completely anew. Play to your strengths, niece. Build yourself back up from the ground up, and don’t neglect what you already know…”

She blinked again, wondering just when she’d pinned everything on the sword – when exactly she had started separating fist fighting from sword fighting – it wasn’t like she’d needed a blade yesterday. Or, rather, no one trusted her skill to give her a live blade… Yet even if she was learning the sword, that hardly gave her reason to neglect her fists.

Those had seen her through plenty of fights by themselves – they had seen her through yesterday.

Clambering back to her feet, she scowled, part of her acknowledging then that maybe she was trying to learn too many new things at once… and maybe, just maybe, those bright, shiny new topics and skills to learn had blinded her from the rusty skills she needed to polish off… Her hands came up in a fighting stance, fingers curled into fists, chakra thrumming beneath her skin comfortingly as she stood there, ready to start round two of that particular spar. “Bring it.”