Chapter 9
Her dad had warned her once, in a moment of weakness, shortly after her exalting first letter informing him that she had been sent to the border.
"Be careful, Sakura," he had written. "Remember that there are real monsters out there. It's not a shame to know your place."
Sakura had dismissed the letter with a kind of embarrassed irritation. Her father had risen well in the ranks for a first-generation, but Sakura already knew her place was higher. She didn't need his condescension. She had thought, foolishly, that her time with Naruto meant she knew what it was like to walk among monsters. That she could stand beside them – and someday, against them.
Naruto was just an irritating boy.
She knew that now.
But Gaara…
Gaara always reeked of blood.
It hung heavy on the air, clogged her nose, suffocated her. She gasped for air and then immediately regretted it, as it only left her choking further. The scent of blood was so heavy she imagined it took on a kind of form as it centered around him, like the sand he commanded. She could almost see it now: clawing paws, a thick tail, heavy fangs of blood-red death, snarling, it's tail whipping back and forth as it glared over Gaara's shoulder at –
It turned to look at her.
She stopped channeling chakra in an instant, then choked again at the sudden loss of sensation as her heightened sense of smell disappeared.
Gaara's eyes were on her, but the beast was gone. The stench was gone.
She hurriedly looked away. Her gaze focused on Guruko's steady movements besides her. She leaned down slightly to run a hand over his floppy ears, playing with the soft spikes of fur above his Konoha hitae-ate. The dog nuzzled comfortingly at her palm in return, and Sakura didn't try to suppress her smile. Kakashi's dogs had become their usual companions; they even shared bedrolls. It was almost as if Guruko was hers. She ran a finger along the line of his long, dark whiskers, taking comfort in his unflappability. He could probably smell that all the time. It was an awful thought.
Sasuke had shifted slightly closer at her momentary distress, so she flashed him the all-clear.
His response was a request for elaboration, and the concern that indicated made Sakura feel somewhat warm in the inside as her imagination flashed ahead of her thoughts. She signed "smell" and "bad," and then after a moment's thought, added a jerk for emphasis: "very bad."
Sasuke relaxed slightly and pulled back ahead.
She wondered if Gaara was still looking at her, but was too cautious to check. Instead she risked a glance at Temari, who was closer in the Suna formation to her position anyway. The girl was staring at her. When their eyes met, Temari let out a loud, deliberate chuckle.
Sakura focused back on Guruko.
Something was wrong.
Something was desperately, horribly wrong. And even Kakashi didn't know what.
.
.
.
At first, things had been fine. Better than fine, even. With the lazy blue of the Shinano river behind them, while they had begun to pick their way across the part of River Country nearer to Sand, Kakashi had shown them a secret.
"I believe the Inuzuka have something similar," Kakashi explained. "It's a way of enhancing your smell, but also of broadening it to include the scents of chakra itself. You'll see."
This wasn't the type of thing people taught. Sakura knew that well. Kakashi stood there and explained his clan technique to her, Haruno Sakura, forehead-girl. This was the type of secret that clans had guarded for generations, passing down only to their own. The kind of secret that turned into a bloodline across the centuries, the kind that marked the border between a Genin Corps soldier with the potential to gain chuunin specialization training and a full chuunin, a full jounin, the backbone of the village. This was what it meant to have a jounin instructor: she could cross that border.
She couldn't help remembering how once, when they were little, one of the girls in her class, she couldn't remember who anymore, (probably Amane, she was like that), had asked Iruka-sensei to show them an elemental technique.
Iruka had laughed: "You kids think I have something like that? If I did, I certainly wouldn't teach you. Someday, when you're genin, you can apply for permission for a chuunin training program where they'll work on a specialty with you." He had paused then, and glanced at the other side of the classroom. It was where the clan kids sat, grouped together, as they always did. Back then even Sasuke sat with them. "Or you could ask your jounin instructor."
Sakura had never forgotten that glance.
But Kakashi was standing before her, Kakashi was taking her hands into his own. Sakura let him guide her fingers like loose putty.
He formed two Horse signs with their clasped hands, pushing his chakra into her system the way her father had, long ago, to teach her burgeoning chakra system to move according to hand signs. Her dad's chakra had been warm and familiar, a light tickling sensation under her skin. Kakashi's was different – cold, tingly, an electrifying feeling that made her want to itch at her skin. She held still as it pushed through her veins, coursing up to her head from the connection of their fingers, numbing her mouth and then her nose. For a few terrifying seconds she couldn't breathe, her face was frozen, her face was on fire – she braced herself, holding back the reflexive urge to call upon her own chakra to purge the intruder from her system – her face was on fire, and then he was gone.
He was gone, but she could still taste him.
Suddenly she had a new awareness of her nose, her mouth – she could feel them, could feel the chakra running through them, the same way it coursed through her hands and feet. More than that – she could control its flow.
"Not yet," Kakashi warned, as though guessing the direction of her thoughts. He clasped Sasuke's hands in his own.
Naruto was last, but a moment after taking his hands, Kakashi jerked back.
Kakashi peeled a sizzling glove off of his lightly smoking skin.
"Say, Naruto," he said. "How'd you learn to manipulate your chakra system anyway?"
"Uh," Naruto seemed unsure. "I dunno, we did all that focusing stuff in class. With the handsigns and stuff."
"That's very impressive," Kakashi said casually, as though unimpressed at the fact that apparently Naruto had single-handedly reverse-engineered a thousand years of chakra flow development without ever being shown it!
Sakura gaped. She shared a glance with Sasuke, who seemed equally nonplussed.
"Thanks?" Naruto asked, scratching at the back of his head in pleased embarrassment as he accepted the complement. "I mean, huh? What?"
"It doesn't matter," Kakashi said, giving Naruto's hair a ruffle. "As it is, your special chakra means I can't manipulate your system. You're going to have to sit this one out."
"What?" Naruto whined. "C'mon, Kakashi-sensei, you gotta be kidding!"
"Don't worry about it, I'll show you a second jutsu tonight, and you can spend the rest of the week working on it when you're not helping out your teammates. You're not missing much, subtlety isn't really your thing anyway, right?"
Naruto wavered.
"I've got the perfect jutsu, just for you," Kakashi wheedled. "I stole it from the Suna team just last week – you'll be the only one in all of Konoha that knows it."
Naruto was sold.
Sakura wouldn't have been jealous, even if she hadn't been absorbed with the fact that her own face felt unfamiliar for the first time in thirteen years. She had something better.
For a while it had been even more glorious than she had expected. Sasuke's nasal chakra paths were particularly weak, which Kakashi said was to be expected of an Uchiha – his eye paths were overdeveloped, which meant a comparative weakening of nearby pathways. That meant he couldn't hold the technique for long at all – and from his descriptions, the impressions he got were a lot less clear than what Sakura was already capable of.
"On the other hand, that's why your eyes will work better for you than this one works for me," Kakashi had flicked at his headband, covering the eye that Sakura still hadn't seen.
Once Sasuke had the sharingan he would have total recall anyway, so it's not as though he really needed this technique, Sakura figured. She'd heard they could even see the future, in the short-term at least, or something like that. That would definitely be better than smelling chakra imprints.
Sasuke obviously thought the same, because he had gotten bored (and wasn't that clan privilege?) of the technique fairly quickly after ensuring he could recognize the smells of each of the team members, and left the bulk of the actual tracking work Kakashi assigned them to Sakura. He had quit after finding his first target on their second day. Instead, he and Naruto (who also seemed not to be particularly practicing at whatever Kakashi had assigned him) spent the time Sakura was at work engaged in an assortment of increasingly aggressive competitions that had the two of them lunging at each other and growling like the dogs ever-present at their heels.
When Sakura found a target they were all business, of course – but it was always Sakura who found it.
This technique was hers. It was amazing (even if she couldn't hold if for more than a couple of hours without tiring out).
An even, steady balance of chakra flow to her nose and the back of her mouth ("Eventually it'll be as instinctual as the layer under your feet," Kakashi said) and the world changed. She could taste the way Kakashi's chakra lingered, musky and so obviously grown-up that there was no doubt which signature belonged to him, she could feel Naruto's at the same time, a sweet smell that was somehow unpleasant, grating in its density, and then Sasuke's scent, already familiar from childhood stalking, but with a hundred new shades of nuance that had escaped her before.
There were normal smells too: dog, grass, mud, rain, whiffs of smoke – Kakashi had told her to memorize everything she could, which she quickly set to work on – but chakra left behind something stronger. Something more. Naruto simply existed more than anyone else; his presence echoed behind him in his absence, a reminder that someone had once given this grass, right here, meaning, had breathed out into this air, gracing it with the weight of his own breath, so heavy. It was intoxicating.
It was also incredibly distracting.
While Kakashi searched for signs of unauthorized shinobi presence in the region, the three of them had a simpler job. All Sakura really had to do was sniff out human settlements and point out any particularly heavy signatures she found there. There wasn't a really great frame of reference provided for "particularly heavy," which was par the course for Kakashi, so she erred on the side of caution, but aimed for anything particularly that seemed to her at least twice as alive as the average civilian.
Kakashi seemed pleased enough by her calculations, or at least accepted them without comment. Whatever was to be done with the civilian children with overgrown chakra networks was in his hands. She knew that in Fire Country they would be transferred to Konoha – that was how her father had been conscripted. She doubted these children would be as lucky.
Sasuke had been clear, anyway, at Sakura's moment of hesitation when they uncovered their first target: "It's not like we have a choice."
That was that.
She realized she was being silly when Naruto, who even emphasized with the uppity civilians around the outpost, didn't seem particularly unhappy with their task except in the vague way he was disappointed with any task that didn't involve direct combat. Then again, Naruto also didn't really pay any attention to anything.
Still, the mornings of that first week on the Suna side of Land of Rivers had passed like a dream. Literally. She'd spent months in the academy entertaining herself with the fantasy of Sasuke following her lead as she hunted down a target.
The afternoons could've been better, of course. As they traveled across western River Country with the Suna team as their ever-present guides, Naruto spent the entire time radiating disappointment and sadness to the extent that even the ever-professional Guruko abandoned her at times to join Shiba in trying to cheer Naruto up with playful nipping. Gaara steadily ignored both Naruto's obvious depression and unsubtle longing looks in his direction. Despite Naruto's habit of taking disregard as a provocation, he did as Kakashi said and stayed silent.
Sakura had found it stressful and excruciatingly awkward, but now she would've done anything to go back to that atmosphere.
It had begun when they reached the border with the Land of Wind. They started at the southern edge, not far from the gulf (where Sakura once again was deprived of her chance to see the ocean). From there, they were to work their way north, towards the border with Rain Country, beyond which lay Iwa. It was that region of the border that interested them most, obviously, as the Suna team knew well. Sakura didn't really understand why they were all playing coy about that, but she was pretty sure they'd started on the southernmost edge mostly because Sand were all assholes.
There had been an outpost there, on the Land of Wind's southern border, not dissimilar from the one where Sakura had been stationed on the Fire border. They weren't invited inside, though Kankuro flashed inside for around twenty minutes while they waited at a respectful distance with the rest of the Suna team. The Sand outpost looked fairly lively, but a few chakra-fueled breaths in and out allowed Sakura to pick out individual scents, which Kakashi had specified wouldn't be possible without a particular focus in any real mass of enemies. It was a useful trick that easily rendered the attempts of the local forces to puff up their numbers futile.
Kankuro had returned without a word, and they ran another dozen miles before settling down to camp at an appropriate distance from the outpost.
The next morning, everything had changed.
.
.
.
Their pace had slowed. Previously Baki had driven them fairly hard, around the same pace Kakashi had chosen, leaving Kakashi to demand halts when necessary for informational gathering. It was a standard practice, as far as she knew.
Now they were in the opposite, uncomfortable position of moving at a pace a civilian could probably match. It was obviously some sort of ploy, but at the same time, if Kakashi asked for them to pick it up, it would be a hard sign of weakness: what shinobi would want to miss out on the informational-gathering opportunities represented by such a slow stroll along the border? It was infuriating.
It was frightening.
Worse, the Suna shinobi weren't making an effort to hide the strangeness of their behavior. Sakura felt as though she and her team were being mocked. Baki and Kankuro had begun talking, not infrequently, to one another, as though it were totally natural, as though almost the entirety of the trip hadn't been spent in silence up until that point. As though their topics of conversation (as trivial as a civilian puppeteering troupe that had performed at last Founder's Day Festival, or as provocative as facts about the Kamo River's flora and fauna that were almost certainly classified) could be considered normal. Gaara was unmoved and uninterested, of course, but even Temari occasionally joined in. She laughed. So did Baki.
Sakura had sniffed at their chakra, trying to sense if they were working some sort of jutsu, or looking for the presence of other enemies, she wasn't sure. It told her nothing except that her father was right about monsters.
She wasn't the only one getting paranoid about the change in the Suna team's moods. Kakashi had warned them the night before to be ready for the possibility of attack or ambush at any time. They were all on edge.
She didn't know how much longer the rising tension could last before something snapped. It was a race to the northern border at excruciatingly slow speeds. It had been eight days since they had arrived at the Wind border in the south. By now even Sakura could make it to the northern edge of the border in two hours' sprint if she really tried (and that was something new to be proud of, she knew). But at their current pace it would probably be another two days.
They set camp that night in tense silence.
As they ate, huddled around the campfire, Naruto finally broke the oppressive atmosphere.
"Maybe if we try to talk…" Naruto said.
"No, Naruto," Kakashi said placidly.
"Like, even if they get mad, that's better than being all sneaky and plotting and stuff, isn't it? I mean, if you think about it, Gaara's probably the only one that's acting normal now, y'know, so he could probably help us out." Naruto began to ramble.
"No, Naruto!"
Kakashi stood, looming over them.
"Understood?"
"Yeah. Okay," Naruto sunk into himself.
Kakashi disappeared into the darkness, and they were left once more in silence. With an enhanced breath, she could feel him somewhere nearby, probably keeping watch.
Naruto's shoulders shook silently. He stared out into the darkness, eyes dry, but open unnaturally wide, whites blazing. Sakura glanced at Sasuke, but he was very intently looking away.
Later, she would be ashamed of the long moment she hesitated in reaching out.
"Naruto," she said finally, and put a hand on his shoulder.
He gave a full-body shudder at the contact. He turned to look at her, face open and innocent in its complete devastation.
With no more hesitation, Sakura pulled him into a hug. It was uncomfortable from their sitting positions, and Naruto's elbow pushed somewhat painfully into her chest as he shifted awkwardly, but she ignored it.
"Naruto, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm really sorry. I know you want to help Gaara, so I'm sorry. It's unfair. I mean, you're right – it's unfair. Not just that, I mean, everything. It's all unfair. I mean, It's unfair that you, that everyone… What I mean is that I'm sorry. I know you're not a monster."
Naruto was completely still, but she didn't let go of him and she found that she couldn't stop talking. She talked over his shoulder, head resting against the puffy collar of his orange jacket.
"I'm really sorry. I'm sorry that I looked at you, I mean, looked at you like that. I'm sorry that you can't show everyone. I'm sorry that you had to do – that they make you – I'm sorry! People shouldn't get to judge you for that. You help us all, every day! And anyone who judges you for – for that is just stupid, and a bully! So! You'll definitely show them!"
Suddenly the words that had flown so freely dried up. Naruto was still laying limp against her like a dead weight. He hadn't even made a move to hug her back. Sakura swallowed down her embarrassment and pushed him away, hoping she wasn't blushing visibly.
"Sorry," she mumbled again, staring concertedly at the ground between their feet.
"Sakura-chan…"
She chanced a glance. He was staring at her wide-eyed, but when their eyes made contact, a smile grew on his lips and he awkwardly reached out to scratch at the back of his head. Even in the dim firelight, Sakura could easily see the blush painting its way across his cheeks.
"I…" he trailed off. "Yeah, I'll definitely show them. Believe it, Sakura-chan!"
She did.
"Sakura's right that it's unfair," Sasuke said suddenly.
Sakura was shocked to realize that she'd forgotten about him. She hoped he didn't take that the wrong way.
"Konoha is always ready to judge," Sasuke continued, spitting bitterly as he spoke. "They'll act like you're the monster while they benefit from your blood. They have no right. It's disgusting."
Sakura couldn't control her uncharitable inner response. What was disgusting was for Sasuke to act like his situation could compare to Naruto's. Some judgement was unfair. And some was deserved. Like of his stupid, treacherous family that got away with it all scot free.
He's just lucky that he's Itachi-sama's brother, she thought, feeling as bitter as Sasuke sounded. But then –
Sasuke was reaching out, too, she realized. Sasuke would never talk about those kind of things, about judgement, family, at the Academy. Sasuke wasn't just reaching out, he was trying to empathize.
Kakashi was right, she thought. Sasuke's bad at making friends.
But she'd been included as well, so she could teach him.
More importantly, Sakura realized, she had already made her choice. They were assigned, but she chose them anyway.
"Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash," Kakashi had said.
Naruto was spluttering something as he continued to melt in embarrassment. The sight made her giggle.
She chose them, so she smiled at Sasuke when he caught her eye. He snorted too, which was basically a laugh.
.
.
.
There was something of a new understanding that carried them through the next two days of unending stress.
Kakashi had returned shortly before they went to sleep to ruffle Naruto's hair in a socially-awkward version of an apology. She chose him too.
Guruko was by her side, as always, tawny head perked for any side of danger. She had already fallen in love with the somewhat silly-looking dog, she didn't need to make any choices there.
They were all a team. They weren't alone.
Two tense days later they scouted the northernmost edge of the Wind/River border. There was no evidence that Suna was planning an attack, or that it had a long-term troop presence in violation of the Shinano Peace Accords signed at the end of the Third War. Or at least, Sakura couldn't detect any. If Kakashi had made other conclusions, he kept them to himself.
But Kakashi probably hadn't either, because from the moment Baki's team bid them a mockingly friendly farewell after escorting them the first 20 miles from the border (with a warning that they'd be away if Team 7 tried to stick around), he led them towards Fire at punishing speeds. They forded the Shinano near dark, resting on the other side only shortly for a water break.
"We all know something wasn't right, there," Kakashi said. "They'll probably be ANBU sent to infiltrate. Whatever happened there was bigger than the four of us. None of you did anything wrong."
It was a poor attempt at reassurance. Especially when he followed it up with the directive to inform him before they collapsed, and set them off at a sprint once more.
They ran well into the night before Sakura felt the ground begin to slip away beneath her, as the chakra spluttered out from the soles of her feet.
"Sensei…!" She managed to gasp, and he caught her even as she fell, hefting her onto his back.
Her rubbery legs wound around his waist without any real strength, but she was still able to cling tightly around his neck as he leapt forward again, all smooth, focused motion. From the direction her head was pointed where it lay flat against the back of Kakashi's vest, she could see Sasuke, red with exertion, breaths labored, but still pushing onwards. She had gone farther, and faster than she ever could have dreamed of mere months ago. But she still couldn't help but hate herself a little.
And then she hated something else, with a burning type of rage she hadn't even known herself capable of. Because when they reached the outpost on the Fire border, everything became clear in an instant.
The invasion of the Land of Rain had failed.
It was a massacre.