Sakura leaves the old man's house at oh-six-hundred hours sharp. Her sensei is still asleep, and from the rate his chakra is turning at, it will be at least two more days before he awakens. Sakura can work with that. She has graves to dig and bodies to burn after all. Absently, she hopes these people will find peace. Sakura would pray, but shinobi hardly have the belief required for kami. Not that she had much belief beforehand anyways. Her echo keeps her feet on the right paths, and Sakura picks up another child on her way to the burial grounds.
The girl is much lighter than the boy from yesterday, but that does not comfort Sakura in the slightest. This girl is obviously older. Sakura would not be surprised if they had been the same age before she passed away. The only difference between them being that Sakura is a shinobi, and the girl was an orphaned street rat who died of starvation in a small, poverty-stricken country. Sakura glances downwards and notices the hand shaped bruising and small vertical cuts scattered across the girl's skin. Or from something worse. Her echo begins emitting a calming sound, wrapping Sakura softly with care. She will name this one and the other like her with names fitting their courage. For living as long as they could, despite hoping to die.
When Sakura arrives back at the burial grounds, she is surprised to see a small group of kids loitering at the edge of her genjutsu. Their eyes focus in on her as she draws near, suspicion and wary hope churning within their chakra signatures. Sakura releases the genjutsu with a spike of chakra, and the ashioto* immediately turn their attention from her to the rows of bodies. There are five rows, numbering twenty-five in the first four and two in the last. She knows that the collection of corpses will only increase. The boy she carried yesterday lies in the shortest row, and it is next to him that she lays down the tora** with gentleness and care. A flower flutters down from the sky and Sakura receives the offering with cupped hands. It is a tiger lily, petals a vibrant orange and striped with a strong, well-defined black. She takes it for what it is and places the flower onto the girl's mouth, parting her lips so that the blossom is cradled there. She then stands from her kneeling position, turning to the ashioto.
"Will you bring the others?" She asks them, letting none of her uncertainty show in her voice. A girl with soft blue hair and sharp eyes nods to her, taking a step forward. Sakura assigns her the role of leader within her mind.
"Ahmya," The girl introduces herself. Black rain. Her hand is held next to her head; thumb, pointer, and pinky fingers splayed up as her other fingers are bent down. Sakura idly wonders if the girl chose the name for herself, or is named after what chases thousands from the islands. Because that hand sign is island-native, and Sakura would be a fool not to return it.
"Sakura," she trusts the girl with her name as a reply, lifting her left hand to receive the greeting she has been given. Ahmya calls the others to her with a sharp dialect. Sakura can almost call it familiar. Ahmya gives the other ashioto some sort of direction, and then they all leave. Splitting into groups and looking to take the town by sectors. Sakura's echo wonders how many more have been lost to these years of avoidance. Wave must have been well and truly alone to have fallen into this state, and this observation forces Sakura to question what right she has to bury these dead. But as soon as the question arises she quashes it, asking her echo to place it deeply into her room of unwanted things. She has better things to do then think so much that all she does is sit around and act useless. She always has. Ignorance is no longer her answer, however. And so she will continue.
Now that she has help, Sakura can make use of her extra time. She makes several more trips to the seaside, taking with her an old and rusted bucket to fill with shells and driftwood. It is a rusted thing, but it has a wide ovular bottom and high sides with bamboo covered handles and Sakura is grateful for it. When her sensei awakens her time to bury the dead will shorten as her time is taken up by training. At least, she hopes. For now, she will keep working under that assumption. The bucked is useful for all its faults, and Sakura has a good amount of each item before the ashioto return. They raise brows at the piles, but after a short bark from Ahmya they quickly set to work. Ahmya herself heads straight to Sakura, holding two bushels of twine grass. Sakura takes in a short breath.
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Fanfiction"A hundred stones sink beneath the waves, imperfect and uneven kanji chipped into them by an unpracticed hand. The owners only recently buried as ash and dust beneath coarse dirt and sand. And Sakura, the one behind it all." A Different Wave: Book O...
