heritage

Chapter One: Loss

Dear Naruto,

I don't know why it's so hard to tell you, yet so easy to write down. No. I do know. I'm a coward. Less than before, but still a coward. One with the scars of their bravery. Scars I lived through. But still. I'm afraid. If you hated me, I don't know if I could stand it.

I know this isn't the prettiest letter. It's a stray piece of ripped sailcloth from the docks, and a little burned at one edge. Stained by something blue. But paper is a precious commodity here in Wave. And this is what my ink sticks to best.

You mentioned my grandfather two days ago. Rather, you spoke of his and my grandmother's funeral. I'm sorry. You should have been there. With me. I should have told you. Should have remembered the connection between the Uzumaki and the Haruno. There's a lot of things I should have done.

There's so much more to say. I'm running out of room though, so 'I'm sorry' will have to be enough. I should give this to you now. I'm sorry that I didn't.

—Sakura

—

"Wake up."

          Sakura doesn't dream. She floats in a blackened space until the ache in the places bits of her heart used-to-be pain her enough to make her to wake up. She keeps her eyelids closed, cinching them tight as her head thrums in pain. The ache starts somewhere on the back of her head, going out like a wave to her forehead and down to her chin every time she shifts slightly, or just breathes. Her chest is just the same. Beginning from her heart and spanning the entirety of her torso, it throbs from the hole the chains tore through her. When she is aware enough, Sakura finally keens at the lack of her sister and the invisible field she had seen through her entire life. There's only one way she can see now.

Sakura tries to open her eyes. Even then she doesn't open them all the way. Because before she even gets a sliver of vision tears cloud it. Hot and streaming. Caused from an anguish plaguing her soul so terribly that she can hardly think of her physical wounds.

And she knows she can control herself but she can't help but whisper, "It's not fair, I did what I was supposed to." Her voice is weak and thick with tears. Because she did. She did what she was supposed to! She listened, shed her blood, awakened the shrines! And she had listened to Kakashi-sensei. Did as he ordered. Evacuated and protected the civilians while her teammates fought elsewhere. She'd done her duty. But there were no laurels waiting for her. No praise.

She is instead left in a quiet room, chilled to the bone. There is no other breathing in the room aside from her own hitched sobs. If anyone stands guard outside, she cannot feel them. There are empty and broken bits of her heart scattered on the floor of her rib cage. Like the ashes of the girl who made up half of her lying abandoned in her mind every time she closes her eyes. The air is like glass in her throat, like fire in her lungs.

I did everything, Sakura's thoughts finally settled on something, died for my family and the village they so loved. And she had died. Because at the moment her soul didn't quite settle into her body like she used to. Her mind didn't quite fit. And maybe she hadn't truly died. But she had. At least in the ways that mattered.

Sakura curls on her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and tucking in her arms. As she does so, her hands graze the skin over her heart. She had suspected that they would scar. The puncture wounds where the chest tore out of her. The scar tissue is just tougher than she had imagined. More mottled. Ugly. She knows that a matching scar must mark her back. Permanent reminders of what she'd given up. It twinges painfully in the cold.