Let Words Drip From Your Fingers

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[faeflowerfeline]

“Sora,” the Dragon Prince says. His voice is terrifyingly, heartbreakingly real; charismatic in a way that Fairy doesn’t think she could ever be capable of becoming. He is so much so—so much more—that she finds herself taking half a step forwards; half a step towards what seems like salvation; before she even realises what she’s doing. “Join me,” the Dragon Prince says, and his voice is somewhere between a beg and a command. He seems betrayed, Fairy realises. Like he’d never expected Sora to switch sides.

Like he hadn’t controlled her to do so in the first place.

Like this, Fairy can almost see why Sora was swayed in the first place. Why she was in so deep that she tried to kill who she thought was her empress—why she tried to kill Fairy, in disguise.

But—

“No,” Sora says, and her voice is firm. She doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t even sway towards the Dragon Prince and his all-encompassing charm, and Fairy finds that she respects her and fears her in equal measure. Sora is harsh, unwelcoming, and her eyes, as they stare at their enemy—a boogieman come to life; the villain from their childhood stories and their childhood fear, who stands now before them in resplendent glory—are cold as ice. “I will never join you.”

At that, the Dragon Prince smirks. “But you did, once,” he says. “You stood by my side, by your sister’s side, and you did whatever I asked without question.”

Sora doesn’t even hesitate. “That was not allegiance,” she says. “That was not loyalty. That was control. And the fact that you cannot tell the difference between the two tells me more about your character than I think you ever wanted any of your ‘subjects’ to ever know.” When she says ‘subjects’, her voice changes, twists. Her face twists with it, into something harsh and disgusted. Fairy can’t help but agree. The Dragon Prince doesn’t have subjects.

He has slaves.

[faeflowerfeline]

burgeon

growing up is a strange thing. a sacred thing; something damaged and taken for granted—wished for by the young, despised by the old.

growing up is a broken tv screen, a life fading into the past even as it continues, beautiful and terrifying and perfect. sometimes it’s not, though: sometimes growing up is the taste of sugar too sweet and too heavy on your tongue. sometimes growing up is numb laughter from cracked lips. sometimes growing up is a heart, hidden deep behind ribs, that tears itself in half for something that isn’t remotely cared about, but was, once.

growing up is something orange and soft and precious becoming something orange and soft and lost, never to be seen again. it’s finding and losing and learning, twisting bits of yourself to fit perfect categories and being scolded for being unable to break out of them. it’s the feeling of nostalgia written off, even as it’s etched deep into bones and sinew and muscle. it’s a friend lost, a friend gained; it’s looking at someone and realising, horror scraping its way through a bare heart, that there’s nothing left to stay friends for.

growing up is learning to do what you must, even as your head aches and your face burns and your bones grind themselves to dust within your body. it is language falling from a tongue too twisted and tangled to communicate, even as the language is perfectly and utterly understandable.

growing up is reaching out and knowing you’ll never reach, but watching it get closer and closer regardless.

growing up is horror and nostalgia and agony; responsibility learnt and introspection utilised; things lost and things found and things broken. growing up is passing time and milestones and ages—sixteen and you’re sweet as spun candyfloss but you’re not as sweet as them; eighteen and you’re powerful and opinionated and a world-breaker and you’ve got change loaded but no gun to fire; twenty and learning and learning and learning and realising you’ll never stop—and thinking i am me and me will never be enough.

growing up is a bone-deep ache and the heart-wrenching realisation that you were lied to. nothing ever changes.

(but everything does.)

[faeflowerfeline]

young blood, stand and deliver

Fandom: Six of Crows Pairing: None; but there’s Jesper/Kaz if you like, squint Rating: T Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209227

Kaz Brekker doesn’t know what it is, exactly, about human touch that bothers him so much. He doesn’t know why it is that he fainted back in the prison cart—well, he does: it was the contact with so many people, all squished up together like fish in a barrel; like bodies in the Reaper’s Barge—and he doesn’t know why it is that when Inej reaches out, tries to kiss him or tangle his fingers with hers, gloves be damned, he pulls away.

i. young blood, heaven need a sinner

Kaz Brekker doesn’t know what it is, exactly, about human touch that bothers him so much. He doesn’t know why it is that he fainted back in the prison cart—well, he does: it was the contact with so many people, all squished up together like fish in a barrel; like bodies in the Reaper’s Barge—and he doesn’t know why it is that when Inej reaches out, tries to kiss him or tangle his fingers with hers, gloves be damned, he pulls away.

(He knows why. He loves her, he does; but not like that. He doesn’t think he can love her like that—doesn’t think he can love anyone like that. Not enough to trust them, not enough for the kind of skin to skin contact that comes with dates and kissing and sex. Saints, sex.)

He can’t handle physical contact. He can’t handle it, and he knows it; he can’t handle it and nobody else can know it. It’s so easy to use against him, so easy to harm him with—just like relationships and people and emotions.

There are three things he knows:

He can’t handle physical contact, and it is a result of the Reaper’s Barge. It’s a result of Jordie’s death, a result of Pekka Rollins’ manipulations.

He loves Inej. He loves Inej and Jesper, Nina and Matthias and Wylan. He loves them, trusts them with his life and knows they trust him with theirs.

No one else can know this. No one else can know that he’s touch-adverse, that skin to skin contact makes him flinch and cringe and suffer. It’s so, so easy to use against him, and the only way he can ensure that it never is, is to ensure that no one ever finds out.

ii. you can’t raise hell with a saint

There is a threatening kind of silence that hangs over Ketterdam when Kaz Brekker is out hunting. He knows it, revels in it; glances to where Inej crouches high above him, very carefully doesn’t look to where Jesper perches, watching over them all with eagle eyes and a perfect aim.

It’s comforting, having him watch over them. Kaz knows that with Jesper up on the balustrades, perched on flat rooves or in balconies, there is nothing that can harm them. There is no one with a faster draw than Jesper, no one with sharper eyesight, no one who could even try to contest his dominance in the gunslinging game.

He makes Kaz feel safe, investment or not, and it’s entirely because he trusts Jesper. Trusts Jesper not to put a bullet in his head, trusts Jesper toput a bullet in those who wish the Dregs harm. Trust. It’s a thing he’s both used to and not—people only trust him when they have no other choice, but they trust him nonetheless. He only trusts people when he’s in such a tight spot he’s practically broken under the weight of all he cannot handle.

But with Jesper, it’s different. With Jesper, he doesn’t tell him things, yes; but when has Kaz told anyone anything emotional? When has he told anyone his plans?

Okay, so, maybe that doesn’t illustrate his point very well. Anyway, his point is that he feels like he can tell Jesper things. That doesn’t make him tell Jesper things.

It does, however, for some absurd reason, make Jesper try to talk to him about things.

The heist goes off without a hitch, and he arrives back at the Crow’s Club with his team entirely intact and Jesper walking silently—which is weird—by his side.

“Hey, Kaz,” Jesper says, eventually; quiet and calm and gentle in a way that Kaz isn’t used to associating with people who are talking to him. It doesn’t make sense for him to be talking to Kaz like that, honestly—the heist went off without a hitch, Kaz hasn’t had anything go wrong in weeks,and they’re actually doing more jobs than they were before.

(Though with their reputation—breaking into the Ice Court—that’s unsurprising.)

“Don’t you think you’re working… too much?” Jesper says, and he’s carefully put enough room between him and Kaz that even with his cane, Jesper isn’t within his reach.

“No,” Kaz says shortly, and that’s the end of that. (Or, at least, it would be—but Jesper is Jesper and Jesper is stubborn, kind, a terrible gambler; everything that a barrel rat shouldn’t be; everything that will get a barrel rat killed. But Jesper is also brave, loyal, the best gunslinger in the Barrel and, most of all, under the protection of Kaz Brekker, which makes up for all that in the end.)

“Kaz,” Jesper says, because Jesper’s always bet against the odds, always lost; a terrible gambler in a city where terrible gamblers are eaten alive. “I think you’re working too much.” Jesper doesn’t do anything stupid, like try to rest his hand over Kaz’s on his cane—something Inej would do; something comforting and terrifying all at once (although far, far more of the latter). Instead, he just stands there. He’s carefully out of reach, but close enough to get to Kaz if anything were to happen, and Kaz loves and hates that in equal measure.

“Your cut,” Kaz says, in lieu of replying properly, “is 10,000 kruge.”

Jesper pauses, and Kaz knows he’s won. In a game where greed is key, Kaz will always win, because greed bows to no one but him.

iii. don’t care what your old man say

Wylan is, surprisingly, far more than Kaz thought he’d ever be. He’s loyal, unsurprisingly. Well-spoken, good at functions and good with pyrotechnics—most of which Kaz could have called as soon as he learnt Wylan’s upbringing—but he’s also illiterate (a problem, but not a major one) and more attached to the six of them than Kaz ever thought he would be.

He is also, just like Jesper, far too kind to be a barrel rat. Far too kind to be bound to Kaz; to be bound to a seventeen-year-old focused on revenge and not much more; bound to a teenager with issues he’s turned into weapons.

As such, Kaz really should have expected this—Wylan’s nervous stance in front of him, hands wringing, etc etc, as he asks if they can talk—even if he didn’t expect the topic of conversation.

“You know,” Wylan says, “I overheard a mercher’s wife and her friends once.” Kaz perks up at this—of course he does, mercher’s wives, when gossiping with friends, often give them the opening they need to crack a mercher’s security system. But then Wylan continues. “She said that her husband asked her to pick between him and her cat. Said that he told her he would not marry her, unless she got rid of the cat.”

Kaz thinks he knows where this is going—maybe—and where it’s going scares him, just a bit. It scares him because Wylan knowing about Inej’s ultimatum scares him, because anyone knowing about his weakness scares him. He’s not ready for that—not yet. “Wylan-“ he says, but Wylan ploughs on regardless.

“She said that her husband beats her, and that she wishes she never got rid of her cat. She told her friends that if anyone asked them to pick between anything and the relationship, they should leave him.” Wylan takes a breath and offers a small, odd, smile. Kaz sits, frozen, his mind whirling a mile a minute. Does Wylan mean— “Of course, the court ladies don’t really have a choice, and I don’t mean that this will happen to you, but it seemed like something you needed to hear.” Wylan waves and walks out the door, leaving Kaz at his desk with a lot to think about.

iv. no need for a queen affair

Kaz, of course, goes to Nina. She’s probably the best equipped to deal with something like this—the prostitute who’s never spread her legs for a man; the most desired whore in Ketterdam—and she’s a part of his crew. A trustworthy part of his crew, which makes all the difference. The trustworthy part is, in the end, what makes him go to her.

He finds her as he always does; her back room in the White Rose, tending to client after client before she goes home to Matthias at their room above the Crow’s Club.

“Nina,” he says, tastes glass in his mouth and desperation in his voice. He hates it; hates that he was rubbed so raw by a simple story about a court lady and her cat, by Wylan and his quiet, careful sympathy. He doesn’t seem to have to say anything more—she gestures to the settee in her room, concern writ across her face.

“Kaz,” she says, and saints but there’s concern in her voice, too. He’d apologise to Inej for the blasphemy, but he’s never done that before anyway; even without Wylan’s words ringing in his ears like particularly vicious clock chimes. “What did you need me for?”

“I don’t,” he says, knows that she knows he’s lying. Knows because it’s his job to know; knows because it’s his nature to lie, and she knows that.

“Company?” she asks, watches him as he flinches, just slightly; still rubbed raw and open, his discomfort with the situation bleeding into the air. He’s usually better at hiding it that this; wrapping himself in layers of leather and fabric, ensuring that this weakness can’t be used against him. He’s usually better at this, but this is an open wound being poked at and prodded until it’s red and puffy and bleeding. “Not that kind,” she says, smiles the smile she reserves for the crew. “Just as a friend.”

“Okay,” he hears himself saying; Kaz Rietveld making a surprise reappearance. Vulnerable, kind, trusting, idiotic Kaz Rietveld, the boy from before the bastard of the Barrel. The boy who loved card tricks and wind up toys and his brother, Jordie. The boy who died with Kaz’s kindness when he used his brother’s bloated body as a life raft.

Nina smiles, lets Kaz sit on the opposite couch—as far away from Nina as he can get—and she just talks. She talks through Kaz’s silence, talks about Matthias and her time in the Second Army. She talks passionately, in such a way that means Kaz has nothing to do but listen.

That suits him just fine.

v. young blood, run like a river

With Matthias, it’s not about trust. With Matthias, it’s mutual distrust, an agreement born of necessity and common acquaintances, and not much more.

(Kaz carefully does not think of Matthias, desperate, pumping water from Kaz’s lungs with muttered swears falling from his lips.)

With Matthias, it’s everyone else but them; nothing but sarcastic quips and uncomfortably careful silences, in which Kaz is all too aware that Matthias is ex-military, and Matthias, in turn, is all too aware of the rather immoral stance Kaz has on all things.

(Kaz carefully, carefully, doesn’t think of a father general betrayed, carefully doesn’t think of Matthias branded a traitor, branded worthless, branded as the lowest a drüskelle can be—one who fraternises with grisha, with drüsje—for them.)

“Kaz,” Matthias says, curt, simple. Kaz nods back, makes to keep walking, but then Matthias clears his throat. “I don’t know what it is you suffer,” he says, unbearably kindly, “but know that you are not alone.”

Kaz nods again, throat tight, once again feeling flayed open and raw; like he’s bleeding out onto the muck-coated cobblestones of the Barrel.

All it takes are a few words.

He walks on.

vi. young blood, heaven hate a sinner

Inej is the last person he wants to see right now, but here she is. Perched in his office window, feeding seeds to the crows. When he walks in, her eyes drop straight to his gloves.

Wylan’s words ring through Kaz’s head again—she told her friends that if anyone asked them to pick between anything and the relationship, they should leave him—and he tilts his chin up, challenges her. It feels odd to do so; odd to feel off balance, out of control. It feels odd to be the one challenging again, instead of the one being challenged and putting the challengers down hard.

“Please?” she says, careful and kind, pleading, but not pushing. Not really. Not yet. “Trust me, Kaz.”

He does trust her. He really does, but he can’t trust her with this. Kaz doesn’t think he can trust anyone than this.

“It’s nothing personal,” he says, keeps himself cool, professional, detached. “Don’t take it as such.”

“Kaz,” Inej says, and there’s desperation in there; the same kind of broken-glass desperation he’d heard in his own voice when he went to Nina earlier. He just sits at his desk, leans his cane up against it, folds his hands on top of it, one on top of the other. Still gloved.

“Did you need something?” he asks. Inej’s face twists at that, pulls on the strings of a heart he’d long thought dead.

Then she leaves. Vanishes back out the window, the same way she’d come in. Kaz lets himself relax, lets himself drop his head onto his desk with a heavy thunk and sigh, tired and sad and just a little heartbroken.

vii. young blood, gotta pull the trigger

It’s interesting. Whenever Kaz gets kidnapped—which is rare, in as of itself—they never take his gloves off. No one with the power to take him on is actually all that interested in what the bastard of the Barrel hides under his gloves, rumours be damned.

But this time—this time, when Kaz wakes up from whatever they’d used to drug them, he wakes up with his hands uncomfortably cold and brushing together, skin to skin. That, more than anything, is what makes him raise his head, look around through the fog that still clouds his brain just slightly.

“Looking for these?” someone asks, dangling his gloves in front of him. He barely restrains his flinch, hoping that the slight twitch either goes unnoticed or is interpreted as something else. Kaz is, of course, not that lucky. “Aw,” the man speaks again, mocking, “does Dirtyhands want his gloves back?”

Kaz raises an eyebrow in an entirely unimpressed manner, and says, “You’re a bit childish for a gang member, aren’t you?”

The man cackles a laugh, grabs Kaz’s chin to tilt his face up. It takes everything within him to not flinch away; everything within him to contain that movement into an easily written off movement. “Ain’t you a little young to be a gang leader?” He replies, and Kaz would incline his head in acknowledgement if he had any range of movement.

“Age doesn’t mean anything in the Barrel,” Kaz says, quiet. He’s carefully, silently working at his ropes now that his mind is working again, less clouded by drugs and panic.

“I always wondered why you wear gloves,” the man says in lieu of responding. “I wonder even more now—your hands aren’t anything special.” He tilts his head to the side, a scrutinisation that is wholly uncomfortable. “Now, I wonder: is Kaz Brekker—Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel—scared or something?”

It’s a hit uncomfortably close to home, and Kaz can’t quite restrain his flinch in time. He’s almost free of his ropes though, just a little bit longer—

The man laughs again, cruel and mocking and delighted all at once. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re scared of something. What is it, I wonder?” He muses, leaning in close again, grabbing onto Kaz’s chin and dragging a thumb across his jaw. He flinches again, more violently this time, and the man’s laughter somehow gets more delighted. “Skin to skin contact?” He demands, smile bright and blinding and terrifying.

“Oh, Brekker,” he breathes, leaning in so close that Kaz can feel the man’s breath on his lips. “That’s pathetic.” He smiles again, eyes glinting in a way that’s utterly terrifying with the knowledge that this man now has; holds over him. He leans in, closer, until his lips are brushing Kaz’s ear, until panic is rising hot and heavy and crushing in Kaz’s chest, and he whispers, “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Then there’s a gunshot. A single shot, and the mans body is a deadweight resting on top of Kaz. He can feel panic clawing its way into his throat; can see the corners of his vision slowly darkening as he gasps for air; but then there’s suddenly fresh air again. There’s suddenly a freeing openness; the man’s weight gone from his body—tossed to the side.

“Kaz?” Jesper’s voice says, even as Kaz registers that no one’s touching him, no one’s too close or crowding him. He looks up, works his hands out of the last of the knots, to see his team crouched around him. They’re all careful, an arm’s length away and making sure they don’t touch him. “It’s okay,” he hears Jesper say as he briskly pieces himself back together.

“Oh, good,” he says, “you found me.” He holds his hand out for his gloves, and Nina drops them into his waiting palm, careful not to touch him. Pulling them on feels like becoming himself again, and he stands, shrugs his shoulders slightly to get rid of the slight twinge that comes with being tied up.

“Of course we did!” Wylan says, almost angry at the idea that they wouldn’t. “You’re our friend!”

“There are no friends in the Barrel,” Kaz replies, but he doesn’t think he believes it anymore.

[faeflowerfeline]

we were nothing like the rest

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725814 Pairing: Uzumaki Kushina/Pakura

Summary:

Kushina isn’t quite made of fire, but with Kurama in her stomach, it often feels it. Kurama is fire and rage, anger in its basest form, and she knows that she’s not supposed to be that. She’s from Whirlpool, a land of water and wind and hurricanes, and she knows that she was supposed to be like them.

But she’s not.

She’s the jinchuriki of the Kyuubi, and she’s a raging forest fire, anger that settles in her stomach and roars alongside the demon in there. She fits in, here in Konoha, where fire natures are the most common, but it isn’t her. It’s him, and she hates how much he affects her.

For @narutofemslashevent Day 7: Free Day!

[faeflowerfeline]

exonerate

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612993

Pairing: Inuzuka Hana/Temari

Summary:

Sabaku no Temari is the eldest daughter of the Kazekage, and she was born with rage in her heart. She was born incompatible with the Ichibi—something she will forever be grateful for, she thinks, because she saw how it twisted Gaara into something terrible, and she knows and hates that she played a part in it—and she was born as someone who was never expected to take the hat.

(But she would get to jounin—she is the daughter of Sabaku no Rasa, the Yondaime Kazekage, and they will have nothing but the best from her—she would be powerful and beautiful and a part of her sibling’s guard, whichever was chosen. Sometimes, she hates that they passed her over, hates that they held her back, hates that Rasa would have no less than three children and that she would be on their team, her own skill level regardless.)

For @narutofemslashevent Day Six: Rarepair

[faeflowerfeline]

Head in the dust, feet in the fire

Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517248 Pairing: Inuzuka Hana/Nii Yugito

Yugito has been warned about the Inuzukas. Of course she has—she’s a kunoichi from Kumo; a jinchuriki from Kumo, and her village has taken from Konoha many times, in both the near and distant past—and the Inuzuka’s are the best trackers in the elemental nations.

Even worse; she’s been warned by Matatabi—warned about the spirit-touched clan of humans with spirit-dogs who have forgotten their roots.

So encountering one—well, encountering one has Matatabi rising in her head, protective, her tail puffed up like the cat she is.

For @narutofemslashevent Day Five: Secret Admirer | Firsts

[faeflowerfeline]

No one there to shame me for my youth

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504237 Pairing: Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino

What she hadn’t expected was to be what is apparently next in line for Kakashi’s position—although, she supposes it was inevitable—or for the nurses at the hospital to look at her with such adoration.

Sakura’s not complaining, she just hadn’t expected it.

(She’s the medic on a team of powerhouses, the backline fighter to Naruto and Sasuke’s brilliance, and she never thought it would be her people looked at like this.)

But it is her; and as she gets glances and propositions from both civilian and ninja, from male and female alike, she wonders.

For @narutofemslashevent Day 3:  Hokage | Polyamory

[faeflowerfeline]

Took an oath by the blood of my hand, won’t break it

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574215 Pairing: Nohara Rin/Nii Yugito

There is a drumming in her head. It builds and it builds and it builds, constant, forever demanding her attention. Three beats, pause, three beats.

Tails on a shell.

Rin takes a deep breath, quiets her mind as best she can, and lets her hands glow green with the chakra of a medic.

(Her green is too dark. It does the work all the same.)

For @narutofemslashevent Day 2:  Genin | ANBU

[faeflowerfeline]

Rebel girl, you are the queen of my world

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812265 Pairings: Inuzuka Tsume/Konan

“I’m home!” she calls, shoving the front door open and hitching the paper bag further up on her hip in one smooth movement. Kuromaru’s deep, booming barks echo from inside, a warning before the dog himself comes bounding around the corner. Konan only just has time to put the groceries down before she’s hit by 80 kgs of dog.

Tsume’s laughter comes from somewhere on the other side of Kuromaru’s furry bulk, bright and wild and happy, and Konan can’t help but smile when she hears it.

“Welcome back,” Tsume says, smiles, bright even as she heaves Kuromaru off her. She doesn’t even break a sweat.

For @narutofemslashevent Day One: Domestic life | Modern AU

[faeflowerfeline]

In this twilight, how dare you speak of grace

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753216 Pairings: None/Gen Warnings: Major Character Death

She looks at Nagato, looks at the little blonde boy who convinced him to give up so much, and she hates. It burns in her gut, a bright flame that should catch everything about her on fire—she’s flammable, made of hair and paper and skin, and she burns just as well as a forest in midsummer, sparked by a cigarette’s not-yet-dead ashes, an unwatched campfire, the deliberate drop of a lighter into dry leaf-mush. Konan is nothing like Ame, with its cool, biting rain, leaving nothing but ice and cold and damp behind.

Konan has never burnt cold.

[faeflowerfeline]

laissez-faire

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586809 Pairings: Uzumaki Kushina/Uchiha Mikoto, Uzumaki Kushina/Namikaze Minato, Uchiha Mikoto/Uchiha Fugaku Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Character Death

She doesn’t know what she’d expected, agreeing to be Kushina’s bridesmaid. Maybe she’d hoped that Kushina would realise, or maybe she’d hoped that Minato wouldn’t turn up; dead on some mission far from the village and leaving Mikoto to pick up the pieces.

(She’d never hope for that—she loves Kushina, sees that Minato’s perfect for her, and she could never wish that on her best friend. Never.

Not even as she stares at whirling tomoe in the mirror, thinking about how easy it would be to arrange an accident. No.

Never.

Kushina deserves better than her.)

[lesbianhyuga]

Naruto Femslash Week

I got some messages from you guys that you wanted another femslash week so here goes! We will be hosting the femslash week (August 27th - September 2nd) to celebrate all the f/f ships in Naruto!

Rules:

Any incest, paedophilia or implications of abuse or rape are not allowed.

No m/m ships that includes gender bend. We’re here to celebrate the female characters.

Trans headcanons are allowed!

Please tag your NSFW.

Each day will have two prompts, you can pick one or do both!

Rarepairs are allowed and are encouraged, the more wlw, the better!

You can create anything you want! Fanfics, art, gifs, graphics etc.

Tag all posts as #narutofemslashweek2018 for us to notice, and we will reblog it! If we miss your work just send us a message and we’ll reblog it straight away!

Schedule:

Day 1 (August 27): Domestic life/Modern AU

Day 2 (August 28): Genin/Anbu

Day 3 (August 29): Hokage/Polyamory

Day 4 (August 30): Memory/Grief

Day 5 (August 31): Secret Admirer/Firsts

Day 6 (September 1): Rarepair

Day 7 (September 2): Free day

If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Please follow this blog if you’re taking part and to stay updated, thank you!

Also please help spread the word by reblogging this post!!

[faeflowerfeline]

Sing as their bones go marching in again

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449313 Warnings: None Pairings: Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino Summary:

Instead, it goes like this: Haruno Sakura is the daughter of two civilians, from civilian families. She is nothing and no one—smart, yes, top kunoichi, yes, but she will never be on par with clan kids. She is teammates to an orphan powerhouse from a dead clan and the last remaining Uchiha.

Haruno Sakura is nothing and nobody, but she breathes and grows and thrives and the forest thrives with her.

(She opens her eyes to wood, grown from nothing, and Hatake Kakashi stares in disbelief at the tree where his student used to be.)

Or, Haruno Sakura should have had the goddamn Mokuton and this author is mad.

[faeflowerfeline]

And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake

chapter three (two) is up!

[faeflowerfeline]

Not waitin’ on you to come save me

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313407

Uzumaki Kushina was born to a clan of fire and lightning, surrounded by raging seas and home to the first Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi no Kitsune. She was born to a clan that built itself from the ground up, each member supported by the others but ultimately, their own person.

Uzumaki Kushina was born to a world at war, a world where blood and death and danger was commonplace, and more people knew how to fight than not.

Uzumaki Kushina was born fighting, and she intends to keep it that way.

Uzushio’s fall was unexpected; the Land of Whirlpools had always been protected by water, home to a clan of lightning, yet it fell to water and lightning.

(Uzushio was protected by fire; both in the water that turned to flame with the rising and setting of the sun, and with their alliance to Konoha, in the land of fire. When Uzushio fell, no flame offered help.

Kushina remembers, and she may forgive but she does not forget.)

When it fell, she fled to those who offered Sanctuary, offered aid too late, wore the Uzushio spiral on their jackets in what had originally been a sign of alliance and was now a grim reminder. Uzumaki Kushina fled to her grandmother’s sister, the Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi no Kitsune, and discovered her fate.

(It’s a burden, but not quite; a curse, but not quite. The Kyuubi no Kitsune is rage and fire and hatred bound in Chakra, and Kushina will hold it. For Konoha, and for Uzushio, all but forgotten.)

“Love him,” Mito tells her, “Love him with everything in your young heart, because love always trumps hate.”

It becomes a mantra, shifting, eventually, from love him to love, and Kushina finds she doesn’t mind, even as she remembers its origins. Uzumaki Kushina loves fiercely, with all her heart, and that translates to her other emotions quite nicely.

She earns the nickname “Red Hot-Blooded Habanero” and she wears it with pride, taking the burning shame of emotions too bright and full to conceal and turning it into a badge of honour.

(Uzumaki Mito wore her hair long, braided into an elegant crown that sat on her head and named her as the princess she is. Kushina wears her hair long too, in an easy-to-grab tail. It’s a challenge, she knows it is, and it is one she has no intention of ever losing.)

Mito passes, in due time, and Kushina stands; long red hair and whisker-marked cheeks, container to the Kyuubi no Kitsune and girl seen as a child. She graduates, makes genin, ties her newly-issued Konoha Hita-ate around her forehead, lamenting that it is not Uzushio’s.

You would never have been Uzushio’s, the Kyuubi grumbles, straining against golden chains. Konoha was always going to take you.

She knows. She knows that from the moment she was born, red-headed granddaughter of Uzumaki Mito’s sister, she was destined for Konoha. But the fox is trying to make her hate, trying to twist her the same way some event, far in the past, twisted it. Kushina won’t let it.

She is Uzumaki Kushina, Genin of Konohagakure. She will be the first female Hokage, the first Jinchuuriki Hokage and the first Uzumaki Hokage. She is wind and water, a perfect storm, the container of the Kyuubi no Kitsune, and she wears her hair like a challenge and her heart on her sleeve.

Someone’s going to stab it, the Kyuubi grumbles, and Kushina grins back, a smile far too wide with far too many teeth.

Let them try, she says, with her smile and her stance and her hair, a ribbon of blood in the wind. Just let them try.

I like you, kid, the Kyuubi says, then he grins a grin to match her own and tells her to call him Kurama.

(“Love him,” Uzumaki Mito told her, and love him she does.)

Kushina is more in touch with her Bijuu than any Jinchuuriki before her. She lets him free of his chains but not his seal, binds him apologetically and loosely, but the bindings are still there.

She takes his knowledge and she learns from it, greedy, devours everything and anything about seals, about ninjutsu. Kushina isn’t great at ninjutsu, isn’t a natural, a prodigy, but she is headstrong and focused and she doesn’t let something as simple as difficulty stop her.

She launches into learning ninjutsu with a single-minded focus, becomes a powerhouse in her own right.

And then she becomes Chuunin. She’s field promoted, heading into her fights with seals in her clothes, poisoned wire in her hair. She wields a sword with scary-deadly efficiency, in a style taught to her by Uchiha Mikoto, when they have spare time.

She’s given her flak jacket on the mission, wears it back to Konoha with Kurama grumbling contentedly in her stomach. He’s proud of her, and she can’t stop grinning.

It’s as a Jounin - another field promotion, earned through blood and guts and Kurama’s Chakra rising like a wave, her teeth coated with blood and her superior officer’s terrified glance - that she really meets Minato, golden hair and a blinding smile and an interest for sealing she hasn’t seen anywhere but back at Uzushio. He looks at her like a person, not like a girl or a demon, and he thinks her hair is pretty.

Claim him, Kurama rumbles, and Kushina mentally shuts the gates in his face. She’s a ninja first, a lady second, and there is a war.

She came here for a reason, after all, and shoving a blonde jounin up against a wall to make out with him isn’t that reason, no matter how hot the guy is.

Uzumaki Kushina walks into Sarutobi Hiruzen’s office, announces her desire to become Hokage, and walks back out. Namikaze Minato watches her, caught halfway between awe and disbelief, and falls in love, just a little.

(When Kumo took her as a Chuunin, she tore the head off one of her kidnappers and let blood-red Chakra seep from her pores. Her whisker marks deepened, her teeth sharpened, and her eyes darkened from purple to red. Then she smiled, sweet, with too-sharp teeth, and she tore them all apart.)

It’s as a Jounin that she figures out how to let Kurama take his own, physical form; a being of hatred and rage and Chakra trapped in the body of a waist-height fox. She takes to giving him this form in battle, giving him this extra bit of freedom; with the added bonus of scaring the shit out of both her own commanding officers and the enemy ninja.

She takes to walking up and down the lines, in no-man’s land, the Kyuubi no Kitsune bounding happily beside her. No-one makes a move.

Kushina grins, and it’s all teeth.

(The second time she talks to Minato, it’s before she’s figured out how to let Kurama take a physical body. He pesters her about seals, about how they work - time and space seals in particular. It’s not until he shows her his unfinished version that she understands what he’s trying to do, and she laughs and smiles, bright and cheerful. There are no teeth.

“I can help,” she says, and Minato practically jumps in excitement. His enthusiasm is contagious, and she soon finds herself just as eager.

“Really?” he says, “Thank-you! Your clan is great at sealing, it’s an honour to work with you!”

He doesn’t notice his slip-up, and Kushina never corrects him.)

She’s there, when Minato gains the nickname “The Yellow Flash”. She watches fondly, lips tilted into an amused smile, as her boyfriend makes a name for himself. Kurama rumbles contentedly at her side.

“He’s a good choice,” he says, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth.

“He is,” Kushina replies, still amused. Minato returns to them, half-drenched in the blood of their enemies, pecks Kushina’s cheek and ruffles Kurama’s fur.

“It works,” he says, just as excited as he had been the first time he’d done it.

“It does,” she says, smiling bright and wide. “I’m proud of you.”

She’s a Jounin when the war ends; the Red Hot-Blooded Habanero, wife to Namikaze Minato, and half the time she wants to stab people. Not Minato, of course; he introduces her to everyone with, “This is Uzumaki Kushina, I’m her boyfriend,” and she kind of loves him for that.

But she’s sick of being the Yellow Flash’s girlfriend.

“They’ll get over it,” Minato assures her, “and if they don’t, I’m sure you can make them.”

Kushina snorts, because he’s right - she left her hair down all through the war; a ribbon of red to make a perfect handhold, yet no-one layed a single finger on the red strands. “I could,” she says, agreeable.

Minato looks at her, at her narrowed eyes and her bloodthirsty smile, watches as she cracks her knuckles threateningly and feels himself go a little weak at the knees. “God, I love you,” he says, and Kushina laughs again, bright instead of dark this time.

“Of course you do,” she says, “I love me too. Ramen for dinner?”

Minato laughs, agrees, and watches his wife - his vicious, dangerous wife - start dinner.

(The first time Uzumaki Kushina had told her boyfriend she loved him, his hand was tangled in bright hair and she was pinning him against the wall of the Hokage tower, like she had wanted too when they first met.

“I love you,” she told him, then ducked her head back down to give him another line of hickeys. He had tried to respond in kind, but his voice had been shaky, and he broke off to moan halfway through. Kushina had smirked in response.)

When Sarutobi steps down, he offers Minato the hat. Kushina watches him, eyes narrow, and he refuses to meet her gaze.

Coward, Kurama scoffs. Kushina agrees, wholeheartedly.

“Thank you very much for this honour, Sarutobi-san,” Minato says, always the gentleman. She’s happy for him, she really is; but Kushina’s never made a habit of lying to herself and she knows she’s jealous too. “My first act as Hokage will be to resign, and choose a successor. Kushina, how would you like to be Godaime Hokage?”

Sarutobi starts, disbelief written over his face, and Kushina starts laughing, clear and light. “How would I like it?” she says, “It’s my dream, y’know!”

Minato smiles, soft and kind and perfect - god, she loves him - and places the hat gently on her head. He turns to Sarutobi, says, “I give you the Godaime Hokage!”

Kushina smiles, vicious and victorious as she can make it, then turns to her boyfriend and softens, slightly.

“My first act as Godaime Hokage,” she says, kneels down, “is to ask you to marry me. Be Uzumaki Minato?”

Minato laughs, looks down at her with the most joy she’s seen in a while, throws himself into her arms with a half-sobbed, “of course!”

Kushina has Kurama at her side for both her inauguration ceremony and her marriage; they both stand tall and proud, brightly coloured like a challenge, and Minato stands with them.

Because Uzumaki Kushina was born fighting, and she intends to keep it that way.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313407

[faeflowerfeline]

And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake - chapter one

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294807/chapters/35483394

Prologue

They reach their destination three days later. She hurts less, by that point, but she's still nowhere near as healed as Shikamaru is - although he had a medic to help him through it all.

Konoha is... odd. It's different, in some ways, but it really is the same old Konoha Sakura remembers living in for her whole life. It's a Konoha from before Orochimaru's attack, from before Pein's attack, from before Zetsu's attack. It's a Konoha that she almost doesn't remember anymore. From the way Shikamaru catches his breath beside her, settling back on his heels, she knows he feels the same. The sunlight filters through the leaves and falls on them in a way that Sakura's not used too as they watch their village go around its daily life.

"Kotetsu and Izumo are manning the gate," Shikamaru says in Sakura's ear and she snorts. Those two were notorious for letting in people that they probably shouldn't have, but it often turned out okay and most Jounin held a soft spot for the two. Honestly, the aforementioned soft spot is likely 90% of the reason they haven't been demoted yet - that, and their almost supernatural ability with most weapons. Sakura had learned from them, back when their band had been larger, and even she never got to the same level they had been.

(They're our greatest failure, Inner says, deep in her head, and Sakura has to agree.)

"We could probably just walk in," she replies, laughs at his soft laugh, and they share the most honest smile they've had in a while. Neither of them will risk it, though, and they both know it. No one had told them to change what happened if they landed in the past; Naruto hadn't told them what to do; but how could they not, knowing what they know?

It's a self-imposed mission, but regardless, they cannot risk failure. They cannot see their village fall for a third, fourth, fifth time, knowing they could do something about it.

(A mission self-imposed is still a mission, after all.)

"I mean," Shikamaru says, and Sakura tenses, because that's the voice he has when he has an idea that's objectively stupid, but is going to suggest it anyway. "We probably could just walk in - I'm the stereotype of a Nara."

"You're a fucking idiot," she tells him, socks his arm and slings the same arm over his shoulder. Jokingly, she flicks an appraising look up and down his body. "You're too hot to be a Nara."

"Hey!" Shikamaru says, sighs as she snickers at his offence. "Troublesome woman."

"Of course," she agrees amicably, "but we still can't just walk in. My hair's too memorable."

"Henge?" he suggests, and Sakura honestly considers checking for brain damage. Instead, she just looks at him, entirely too aware of the way her thoughts are projected on her face. "Yeah, okay," he says, leaning against her.

"What if," Sakura says slowly, "we tell them the truth?"

Shikamaru's look rivals hers in its deadpan disbelief. "We tell Kotetsu and Izumo that we're time travellers here to stop our village from being destroyed?"

"No," she says, inordinately patient for an amazingly stupid partner - he's a fucking Nara, why is he so idiotic? Boys. "We tell them that we're foreign ninja here to see the Hokage."

"Oh," Shikamaru says, like he's realising something that makes him feel idiotic - good, Inner thinks, all mild guilt and vindictive glee - "That could work."

Sakura sniffs, turns up her nose like Ino used to whenever something didn't go her way and says, "Of course it'll work!" Shikamaru looks at her suspiciously, before bursting into a helpless kind of laughter that makes Sakura feel warm inside. They're alive, and they don't have to worry about being ambushed by half-immortal and never-ending beings, even if they do occasionally have to worry about ambush from other humans.

(And isn't the whole idea of other humans a trip; Sakura's not used to there being anyone outside their small group and Zetsu.)

They're alive, and they can laugh freely like this. Sakura kind of loves it.

"We'll do that then," Shikamaru says, bringing her back into the moment. Sakura wrinkles her nose - she's going to have to smile; to act for this plan, and after this long, she's sure she's pretty rusty - but Shikamaru rests his arm over her shoulders. It's a comforting weight, the feeling of having someone she knows here for her.

When they jump down, she's only partially ready, but that's okay because she has Shikamaru here, has his arm over her shoulder and his Chakra brushing light and easy against her own. Kotetsu and Izumo straighten up as they approach, their hands hovering suspiciously over their weapons. Sakura approves.

"Hey!" She says, as bright as she can make herself be, offering a wave to the two chunin gate guards. "We're here to see the Hokage, is that okay?"

"The Hokage?" Kotetsu says, suspicion in his voice and in his eyes as he glares at them. "What business do you have with the Hokage?"

"Information trade," Shikamaru says easily, a feigned openness shifting how he holds himself. "We have information to offer, and ask only for refuge in return." The two chunin stare suspiciously for a few more seconds before Izumo gives a nod, racing off to - presumably - get someone to escort them in. Sakura settles down against the poles holding up the gate to wait, feeling Shikamaru follow seconds later, leaning up against her side. She almost falls asleep here, in the shade of Konoha's gate with Shikamaru resting against her. It's warm, and shaded, and safe somehow, even in this Konoha that's an old mirror of her own.

Shikamaru nudges her awake when Izumo returns, two ANBU at his side. It isn't at all a vicious awakening, but it is a startling one - she hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep. That probably says volumes about her comfort levels here; they're alarmingly high and Sakura's going to need to fix that somehow.

Regardless, she climbs to her feet - slowly, no need to appear as a threat - and snaps a quick salute at Kotetsu, who watched over her and Shikamaru as they dozed. Sakura kind of loves him for that, if she didn't kind of love him already. Then she turns, heads towards Shikamaru and the ANBU just ahead, smiling just slightly because she's home, and this time, she's going to save it.

The Hokage's office is just as she remembers it, from before when Sarutobi was in office, when Tsunade was in office, when Kakashi was in office. (When Naruto was in office, although the majority of his leadership was months and months of ninja on the run, fleeing desperately from something none of their three living Hokage could defeat, even working together.) The Sandaime Hokage sits at the desk, long-dead in Sakura's memory and not someone she's overly affected by seeing. Shikamaru isn't so lucky - he sees his teacher in the lines of Sarutobi's face, in the cigar hanging from his lips, and Sakura slings an arm over his shoulders and draws him in. It's a hug, almost, but not quite.

(An undercover hug, Inner whispers. Sakura almost laughs, holds it back with willpower and willpower alone, while Inner, the lucky bitch, laughs at both her own joke and at Sakura herself.)

"So," a long-dead Hokage says, "Foreign ninja with information, asking only shelter? It is understandable that I am curious, even suspicious, is it not?" As he says this, Sakura realises with a dawning horror that they did not plan what they would tell him. From Shikamaru's hurried glance, it is obvious that he feels the same; and Sakura simultaneously breathes a sigh of relief that she is not alone in her idiocy and feels the overwhelming urge to cuff her idiot of a partner around the head - with that glance, the Hokage will trust nothing they tell him without evidence.

He's supposed to be a Nara! Inner wails in despair. Sakura can't help but agree.

"I am presuming you want the truth, Hokage-sama," Sakura starts, speaking as calmly as she can manage. "We offer it freely, and warn that the information shared in this room will be dangerous in the wrong hands." Sarutobi eyes her, but flares his chakra to activate the silencing seals anyway. Shikamaru is giving her a similar look from her side, and she glances at him, exasperated. Thankfully, he seems to get what she means, because he steps forwards and bows just slightly.

"Hokage-sama," he says, "I am Nara Shikamaru and this is my partner, Haruno Sakura."

Woah, Inner says, just coming out with it, are we? Sakura stifles a smile and joins Shikamaru in his bow. The Hokage watches them, calculating, before glancing past them at the two ANBU standing by the door.

Eventually, he says, "Nara Shikamaru and Haruno Sakura are two students attending their last year at the academy this year." The look he gives them is cool, like an iced-over bridge, liable to send them flying into the frozen water below. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

Sakura straightens, looks Sarutobi Hiruzen in the eye, and says, "Shimura Danzo is operating an ANBU cell known as Root, which you ordered disbanded. The Uchiha Massacre was ordered by Danzo, carried out by Uchiha Itachi and covered up by you." One of the two ANBU steps forward, but Shikamaru falls in behind her. His glare is a terrible thing - all Nara glares are, really, because it is not often they make an appearance - and the ANBU member freezes. Sakura continues. "Uzumaki Naruto is the Kyuubi Jinchuriki, son of the previous Jinchuriki, Uzumaki Kushina and her husband, Namikaze Minato. Uzumaki Mito was the Kyuubi Jinchuriki before her, as well as the Princess of Uzushisokagure, Konoha's greatest failure and the last known location of Uzumaki Naruto, the Nanadaime Hokage of Konoha, as he used the last of his chakra to activate a seal that sent both the head of Konoha's hospital and apprentice to the Godaime Hokage, Haruno Sakura and Jounin Commander Nara Shikamaru back in time." Sakura sucks in a breath, lets it out, and levels her gaze at Sarutobi. He's watching her with less wariness and more shock, which is exactly what she was going for.

Then Shikamaru stops glaring at the ANBU and sidles up by her side. When he opens his mouth to continue, she makes no move to stop him. "They watched all that was left of Konoha fall with its leader, and woke up on Uzushisokagure, ten years in the past."

Short, sweet and effective, Inner comments, audibly pleased.

And it is effective - Sakura watches as Sarutobi Hiruzen's face shifts from shock to pity, from something that could have left them out to something that will get them in.

This is why he's a genius, Inner comments, that undercurrent of smug pleasure still lighting up her voice. Sakura can't help but agree - he really is one; a lazy genius, but a genius nonetheless.

Sarutobi looks at them, silent but pitying; and says, "Tell me about the future." Shikamaru sighs in that way he does when he wants to call something troublesome but can't, and Sakura offers a tight smile.

"That might take a while," she says, "We're not even sure how far back we went."

"I'm reasonably sure it's at least ten years?" Shikamaru offers. Sakura only shrugs, before fixing her eyes on the Hokage.

"You said we're in our last year?" she asks, "When's the genin exams?" Sarutobi looks at her carefully, before apparently deciding she's trustworthy enough for this information.

"Today," he says, and Sakura mentally reclassifies 'trustworthy enough for the information' into 'unable to do anything about it anyway'. Shikamaru frowns, thoughtful, and Sarutobi smirks at them, almost all-powerful and seemingly all-knowing (although they know otherwise). It's no wonder he was called the God of Shinobi.

"Then it is ten years," she says, turning to Shikamaru. "We could fix a lot with a ten year grace period." Sarutobi stares at them, almost glaring as they completely ignore him in favour of considering what they can fix, with this amount of time on their hands.

"We can't help Obito," Shikamaru says, ignoring Sarutobi as he perks up at the name of Kakashi's old teammate, "He was gone for years by this point." Sakura whines, because Obito is the root of like 80% of the world's problems, and fixing that would have been the best way to change the course of history. "I know," Shikamaru says, pats her head like she's a particularly insistent puppy. She snarls, whacks his hand and humphs as he laughs quietly, turning back to the Hokage.

"We'll try to summarise the events the best we can," he tells Sarutobi, "but we may be here for a while."

The Hokage shrugs, leans back in his chair, and says, "I've got nothing to do."

By the time they've finished, Sakura's throat is dry and her voice hoarse. Shikamaru doesn't sound much better, his voice just as hoarse. She feels like she's going to cry, with the way her eyes burn and her throat aches, and she angrily swipes a hand across her eye.

Ninja don't cry, Inner says, but she sounds like she's going to cry too. Sakura doesn't blame her - they lost so much; lost so many, and to tell their story they had to tell of who died. Sarutobi pities them, plainly and openly, his eyes crinkled like he's going to cry too. It's not that much of a surprise - he likely knows the dead better than they do, and they had to tell him that he and those he holds dear would all be falling in the next ten years.

"I'm sorry," Sakura whispers, the words scratching in her throat, "I tried to save them."

Shikamaru's arm wraps around her, pulling her into a hug, and Sarutobi's voice rings through the office. "You did the best you could," he says, kinder than she'd expect from the leader of a village facing unknown ninja - because that's what they are at the moment, unknown ninja, regardless of how much that thought hurts. Then Sarutobi says something else unexpected - something they'd hoped for, desperately, but never thought they'd get; even by telling their story. "Cat and Crow will take you to your new housing in the Jounin apartments," he says, gesturing to the two ANBU who had led them to the Hokage tower in the first place, "You'll be enstated as Jounin of Konoha, under surveillance for the first few weeks, of course."

"Of course," Shikamaru says, inclining his head, "Thank you for your help, Hokage-sama."

Sarutobi watches them for a moment, then asks, "What would you like me to put down as your names?"

"Uhm," Sakura says, blankly, "We need names?"

"Oh," Shikamaru says, "Yeah. We need names."

"We'd have to get the Naras on board," Sakura muses, "Because the easiest way to get around us both being able to use the Nara clan techniques is to, well, be Naras."

"Oh no," Shikamaru says, staring at her in horror, "You are not making me tell this shit to my dad."

Sarutobi stares, sighs, and says, "I'll call Shikaku."

Nara Shikaku reacts almost exactly as Sakura expected - with disbelief, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh, and a comment so similar to Shikamaru's favourite saying there's really no question about his friend's Nara heritage. "So," the head of the Nara clan says, turning to them, "Names?"

Shikamaru looks at her, smirks, and says, "Sakura should be Shikamari." Sakura can't help but snort at that - he would give her a name so similar to his own that only a single character makes the difference.

Shikaku nods, the Hokage makes a note, and both look expectantly at Shikamaru. Sakura taps her fingers against her chin, thinking, before she says, "Shikaken."

"Like study?" Shikamaru asks, curious. Sakura smiles, shaking her head.

"Like sharpen. It suits you, I think."

Sarutobi nods in agreement, writing it down. "I'd have to agree."

"Nara Shikamari and Nara Shikaken," Shikaku says, offering a smile, "I'd like to extend a formal invitation to have you stay in our compound."

"It would look a bit weird if we weren't, I think," Sakura offers up, "I don't know all that much about clan things."

"Troublesome," Shikamaru sighs, in a way that definitely means it would seem weird if they didn't stay in the Nara compound, "But then we'll have to find a way to avoid Shikamaru."

Sakura groans, glaring at her partner. "Why'd you have to be such an intelligent kid! He'll figure it out too quickly."

"Why don't we do it this way," Shikaku offers, "You stay at the compound for a while - say, a week or so - and then move into the Jounin Apartments. It is something that happens, even if it's a rather rare occurrence."

"Thank you, Shikaku-san," Sakura says, bowing slightly, "Your help is most appreciated."

Shikaku laughs, ruffles her hair and says, "There's no need to be so polite." He offers a smile, adding, "Politeness is troublesome." The Nara clan head leads them from the Hokage tower, offering a quick goodbye to Sarutobi. "There are a few free houses on the outskirts of the compounds," he tells them, "You'll be staying in one of those. I have to tell you to come to dinner tomorrow night, though - I can only hold Yoshino off for a day, the troublesome woman."

"It's a miracle you can hold her off that long," Shikamaru mutters. Sakura laughs, lightly whacks his arm and leans into him.

"Don't insult your mother," she scolds, curling her arm around his as they arrive at the compound, "It's mean." Shikaku snorts at them, pushing open the gate and leading them to a house that sits quite close to the edge of the compound.

When Shikaku leaves them, he leaves them with the house keys. "Have a good sleep," he says, a wry smile twisting his lips.

Ha, Inner laughs, speaking for the first time in a long time - she'd quieted, after having to talk about what happened in their timeline - sleeping well? When was the last time we slept well?

I think that's why he's smiling like that, Sakura replies quietly, tilting her head onto Shikamaru's shoulder. Outloud, she says, "Thank-you, Shikaku-san."

"Just call me Shikaku," he replies, as he walks off. "Can't be too formal if we're family, after all."

"C'mon, Sakura," Shikamaru says, tugging her inside, "Let's get some sleep."

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294807/chapters/35483394

Prologue

[faeflowerfeline]

And I need that fire just to know that I’m awake - Prologue

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294807/chapters/35483253

Sakura's actually not sure how this all went so badly wrong. The war was a given - war had been looming since before Sakura even started the academy - a constant presence in the near-past and a constant threat for the near-future. But... a war on this scale, with this much destruction?

She wasn't prepared for this. No one was prepared for this.

Konoha is gone, Inner says, uncharacteristically blank. It's horror, written through her voice and across her face; coming across as a particular brand of apathy Sakura knows all too well.

Konoha isn't coming back, she thinks back, and fuck that's a depressing thought.

Shikamaru nudges her, though, where he's running alongside her - one of the few left from the original group of twelve. "Konoha is its people," he tells her; and she hadn't realised she'd been speaking out loud.

Konoha is its people; and its people are almost all gone, now. Naruto stands as Hokage, finally (she'd never doubted him, not really, or if she had she'd never been able to admit it); unable to become what he really wanted to become (a guardian, a symbol; someone to protect Konoha and all her people) because those that he had once wished to be acknowledged by now lay torn apart by a being far more powerful than even him.

(They never stood a chance.)

Konoha is its people; and Konoha is dead.

(She tells him this, sad and quiet, voice revealing only the apathy she had trained so hard to gain. Shikamaru grimaces, a twisted, horrible expression - one that she never wants to see on his face again - and admits, just as quietly as she had that yes, Konoha is dead.)

Instead, her last remaining citizens - all ninja; because if the ninja population's only choice was to run, if even Naruto, with his immense chakra reserves and insane power, couldn't defeat their opponent, then the civilians were doomed from the start - run; they run and they run and they run, hoping against hope that they can escape the fate that is left to them.

With every battle; it's her and Shikamaru they gather around - "We can't afford to lose you two," Naruto said, once, pulling them up as they run (She'd been stupid, she realises now, stupid and silly and she almost destroyed everything because what society can survive without a medic), "You're are the reason we've survived so long." - ensuring that whatever happens, they'll be left behind. She hates it; hates that she can't do anything because one of the first fucking lessons drilled into her brain was the medic cannot fall first.

Idiot, Inner says, Idiot, idiot, idiot. They're right. We can't be frontline anymore.

Tsunade-shishou has already fallen; she went down with Konoha itself and now Sakura is the only one left who would even be remotely capable of healing people fast enough to allow them to stay on the run. Without Sakura; they would have to abandon their injured. She can't afford to be on the front lines; even with her supernatural strength and healing.

They may be on the run, but there's no time for stinginess here - everyone needs every advantage they can get. So those that remain teach everyone everything they can - she learns poisons from Anko and Genma, learns the Nara clan jutsus from Shikamaru. ("The clan is dead, and so are we," he said, sad and tired but still willing to teach her all he knew about his clan secrets, "What's the point of secrets staying secret?") She teaches medicine to everyone; teaches medical jutsus to fewer, but still enough. Kakashi teaches them every jutsu for their affinities he knows and then some. Shikamaru's fire jutsus work often; lighting up the battlefield and frying all that remains, but they leave him with burns on his hands and lips that she heals every time. He hasn't quite learned to control them yet, but he has no other choice.

(When Kakashi falls, she cries. Sakura feels like she hasn't cried in years, but with Naruto and Shikamaru comforting presences by her side, she's free to do so.

He wasn't the best teacher, at first, Inner says, But I liked him. And he got better.

Shut up, Sakura tells her.)

They're cornered in Uzushikogakure. They're in the main hall, barricaded in - what else can they do? - and they're surrounded.

No escape, Inner whispers, breathy and more scared than Sakura's ever heard her. She should probably be comforting - comforting to her own Inner self, ha, but instead, she hisses a breathy no shit back. Something heavy slams against the door and Naruto snarls, spinning around to face her and Shikamaru standing near the back of the hall.

"Fuck," he hisses, practically sprints back down the hall towards them. "Right, okay, we've got no choice now."

Shikamaru barks a laugh, bitter and harsh, says "When have we ever had a choice?" And Sakura snorts despite herself. Shika's right, after all -  after Konoha's destruction, they really had nothing left to do but run and die.

"Just," Naruto sighs, and he seems so much older, so much more mature than he had just six short months ago. "Get in the seal over there."

"What?" Sakura says because at this point she's learnt to be wary of most things; even Naruto's orders, sometimes. "Why? What does it do?"

"No fucking clue," Naruto says, then pauses, and amends his words. "Actually, I have some idea, but only because I recognised a few of the symbols."

"Oh?" Shikamaru says, and Sakura groans when she notices he's followed the instructions. "What symbols?"

"A few for time," Naruto says distractedly, pushing Sakura towards the seal. She offers minimal resistance, but she doesn't help either. "It's probably either a stasis seal that'll keep you guys safe for a pretty fucking long time, which is what we need, or it's something to do with time travel, which at that point, who fucking knows what'll happen."

"I'm guessing you don't," Sakura says dryly. Naruto laughs, something falsely cheerful. He doesn't answer though, just keeps pushing Sakura until she's standing in the seal with Shikamaru. The door booms and shakes again, creaks open just a little, and those that are left spread out in a rough semi-circle around the seal. Naruto smiles, something soft and sad and the same false cheer of his laugh.

The door bursts open behind them, and Anko sends a wave of fire in a Jutsu she'd been building up since the second hit. Naruto smiles, his chakra flaring as he slams his hands down on the seal.

The last thing Sakura sees is Naruto's coat flaring behind him as he spins to face the flood of white chakra constructs climbing through the door.

Sakura wakes up slowly; a rarity, nowadays. There's little around her, none of Naruto's supernaturally-enhanced chakra flooding the air. Just the soft, gentle waves of Shika's chakra; the way it feels when he's asleep. She opens her eyes slowly, another rarity - you get up or you get dead, Inner whispers in her head - and sees the arching roof of Uzushikogakure's main hall high over her head. Groaning - everything hurts, fuck - she turns her head to see Shika, lying unconscious (but breathing, he's alive, Inner observes, relieved) on his side next to her.

(Distantly, she notices a seal carved into the ground below them.)

Groaning again, she forces herself to sit up; and god even training with Gai didn't make her hurt this badly.  She grits her teeth and pushes through the pain, standing and stumbling towards the heavy wooden doors. Pushing them open, she hesitates; glances back at Shika.

(Haven't you learnt anything? Inner hisses, venomous, you leave him alone, he dies. That's how the world works.)

So she limps her way back over to him, muscles pulling - fuck that hurts - as she walks until she finally collapses beside him.

"Shika," she says, knowing better than to touch a disoriented, stressed and mostly asleep ninja. "C'mon, wake up."

"No," Shika whines instantly - the fucker, he was awake the whole time - "Everything hurts."

Groaning, Sakura tugs at her chakra, pulling until the light-green of medical chakra lights up her hands. It's not much - she's tired, and everything hurts - but having at least one of them able to move with less pain is a good thing. Shika groans again as she eases his muscles the best she can, and finally sits up.

"You look like shit," he says, blunt as ever; and Sakura laughs, leaning against him.

"You can't say much." Shika wrinkles his nose at her, and she laughs again, quieter this time as her eyes try to slide shut without her permission. "It hurts," she whines and he nods, heaving her up beside him.

"C'mon, let's go see what we're dealing with."

They leave the hall to blue sky; a bright, yellow sun, bright green grass and healthy trees. It's completely different from what Sakura remembers - dark everything, malevolent chakra soaking into the earth and sky itself. Sakura doesn't think she's actually seen the sun for years.

"Well," Sakura starts, flexing her chakra to no change, "We're either in a very convincing genjutsu, or that seal had something to do with time travel."

Shika snorts. "No hope that it was a status seal and we won?"

"They would have come to free us," Sakura says, confident in her analysis. "I'm thinking the seal had something to do with time travel because I don't think we would have woken up in pain in that seal if it was a genjutsu."

"Mh," Shika says, "I think you're right." He glances down at her, scrunches up his nose again - he's like a cat when he does that, it's fucking adorable - and says, "I'm presuming you want to head to Konoha?"

Sakura snorts back, says, "You presume right," because that's the main way they'll find out if this seal really did have something to do with time travel - they've both known Konoha all their lives; and last they saw it it was utterly devastated. It being there at all is a sign of time travel.

Shikamaru sighs, ignores her whines at how badly she aches and helps her hobble off towards the docks.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294807/chapters/35483253