heritage

Chapter Eight: Requiem

 Dear Naruto,

The Uzumaki were famous for their seals. The Harunos, as a branch family, were responsible specifically for any seals used in the burial rites. For example: body-seal scrolls and incendiary seals.

I'm sorry. There wasn't anything left of them to bury.

—Sakura

—

"Time is the trickiest of acquaintances."

          Rest has never come easy. Not when she was young and certainly not now. No matter how many years more she has experienced, Sakura still finds it difficult to slow down and rest. Though her reasons have changed over time, the result remains the same.

That being when she does finally settle down, she goes down. Sleeping for hours on end, knocked out harder than a log. Sure, she has brief moments where it seems like she's awake, but they don't last very long. She's plunged straight back into sleep only a few minutes after her eyes peer through her lashes.

With everything that's happened, Sakura was not even mildly surprised when she felt the crash hit her however many hours ago. She knows this a brief wake window. Might as well have a short look around.

Sakura blinks slowly, the haze of sleep keeping ahold of her. She doesn't mind—she has no obligation to get up at the moment.

She's still on the couch. It's more comfortable than her old bed by an immeasurable amount, and the boys well-intentioned badgering had no effect on her decision to stay put.

From where she lies on the sofa, one of Sasuke's body pillows propping her up in a more comfortable manner, Sakura can see the faint morning ligh beginning to peer in through the kitchen window. The curtains are still drawn so the room remains dim, but Sakura can still see the soft butter yellow light glimmering through the cracks.

It's comforting, really.

Proof that it's over.

A snore breaks her reverie, a jumbled set of words said in Naruto's voice disturbing the quiet as the boy himself turned over. Sakura can just make out a few tufts of his signature blonde hair from where they peak out beneath the blanket.

She holds in her weak laughter, hoping to relish this rare moment for just a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer in this place where nothing hurts and she is loved.

Just a little bit...

Her eyelids flutter closed.

          It's raining, oddly enough. Hot and humid, fogging up the windows. It makes the air sticky on her skin, keeping Sakura from being able to tell the difference from the water in the air and her own sweat.

It's a sign. A gross one, to boot.

She's stress cleaning. Folding miscellaneous blankets, towels and washcloths. Wiping the counters and the coffee table once, twice, and then one last time just in case. She knows she has adjusted the position of each vase at least twice, give or take five. There's nothing else to do while she waits.

Her boys had left earlier that morning, shortly after a messenger came to the door and informed Kakashi of some things. What it all was, Kakashi never told her. What he did tell her was that the Yamanaka that the Saidame had spoken of would be by for introductions by noon.

Odd, that none of her boys will be with her.

Sakura shakes her head lightly. Although her instincts still scream at her to be wary, the Invasion was, chronologically, two months ago. No matter that it was just a few days ago according to her memory. No one else would be as on edge as she is, logically. The village has already dealt with most of the fallout.