Rated 'M' for a reason

Commissioned by Shikabootay!

A Ghost Inside My Chest
By: Rise of the Blossom

Chapter 1

It was so unfair.

How was she supposed to keep up with the others when they had so much going for them? When they had clans to practice with or already had personal teachers to work on their jutsu with them?

All she had were the sensei at the academy and their time was divided amongst the students – not equally, either. They appeared to naturally gravitate towards the students with the most promise, placing them on pedestals and continuously informing the rest of the class that they should aspire to be more like them. The saddest part was that it worked, too. They idolised the strongest, most talented in their classes, but it came at a price, for they all damned themselves for not being more like them. At least, she did.

Her friends were all members of clans – if not the heirs or heiresses of said clans – and trying to keep up with them was asking for the impossible.

No, she wasn't stupid enough to believe that chakra reserves and stamina were inherited – duh, right? – but she did know thanks to those friends that they were trained from a young age to nurture said reserves, although that didn't necessarily mean it would increase. It simply meant they knew how to handle it all, how to replenish it faster or even how to use it to their advantage.

Saying that, it was possible to create more and store it away – or so their sensei, Iruka, had stated one day during a lesson on chakra. He'd mentioned one of the Legendary Sannin to use as an example, saying Senju Tsunade had mastered the technique and had reserves that were rumoured to rival that of a tailed beast. She wasn't sure if she believed that just yet, though. There was every chance he was merely trying to hype the legends of their village up to motivate the class.

How did one go about boosting their reserves if it was a possibility? How could she better herself when it already felt like she'd tried everything? Was she stuck already at just eleven years old? How tragic was that, if true?

Scooping low to grab a decently sized stone, she tossed it in her hand several times, assessing the lake before her critically like it would give her the answers she needed.

Damn it. Why couldn't she have been born into a cool clan like Uchiha Sasuke? His older brother was always the talk of the village – he'd yet to fail a mission and was known as the prodigy of the Uchiha Clan.

Or even Yamanaka Ino's! She'd seen her rival working tirelessly on her mind transfer jutsu, though she refused to show the fruits of her labour, saying she needed aces up her sleeve if they were ever going to face off again. After all, they were fairly equal when it came to taijutsu, but that was only because all girls were trained with the same basic moves – their sensei said it wouldn't be until they were placed onto teams that they'd find their own style. The only ones who had their own style (that she knew of) were those of prestigious clans like the Uchiha and Hyuuga.

As for her own family – family not clan – they were all civilians who disliked the horrors of the shinobi world, though as her mother had married into the Haruno family, she was more lax with the strict ideals and relished the thought of a daughter who could defend herself, even if she never progressed further than genin. To her, obtaining a genin status in a family such as theirs was a miracle and she would die a happy woman to see it happen.

That was probably where her need to please came from, she concluded sulkily and tossed the pebble across the lake, only to sigh dejectedly when it sunk after just a second.

She'd never gotten the hang of that trick, either.

There was so much she didn't get.

Books – textbooks were simple and novels were often predictable, so she got them. She loved losing herself in a book and learning new things, though that wasn't all that surprising as, according to Iruka, she leaned more on the visual learning style than kinesthetic or auditory. It was everything else that was difficult to her.

"Oh, Sakura. You're here."

She looked over her shoulder with a noticeable pout as her father carefully made his way down the slope of grass, his sandals slipping in various places and indicating his lack of grace and confidence. She'd taken all of two seconds to descend, never sliding once.

For a civilian, she supposed her father was pretty well built – he looked more intimidating than the sensei at the academy, anyway. Then again, most shinobi she saw around were all lean rather than bulky, like they were built more for speed (except for the Akimichi Clan, obviously).

That was where all impressiveness stopped, however. He was a teddy bear really and always struggled in being stern. It was her mother who was the total hard ass. She embarrassingly wore the pants in that relationship, leading many to look on with pity in their gazes whenever she snapped at him in public or asserted her dominance.

"Mama's looking for you," he told her with a smile once he managed to join her. "Dinner's almost ready."

She would have sent him out to look for her, then. In her mother's eyes, there was no excuse to skip a home-cooked meal she'd slaved hours over. Sakura wondered if she would be the same once the time came to take missions, or if she would finally hate the shinobi lifestyle.

She looked out at the lake once more, admiring the sparkling water as the setting sun bounced off it and threatened to blind her. The sight was too pretty to look away, though.

Sighing, Sakura crouched low and picked up another four pebbles. There were always plenty on that embankment, though due to the grass being overdue a trimming (complete with weeds sprouting through also), it was slightly harder to find them, leaving her to search through the blades that tickled her wrists and arms.

Although she could feel her father's worried gaze, Sakura refused to meet his eye, instead standing and trying her luck once more with skimming the pebble along the water, but once again, she failed, the sight of the ripples making her angry and lash out, the other three pebbles hitting the water with loud plops hidden behind her yell of frustration.

Chuckling beside her threatened to blind Sakura with her anger.

"You're being too rough," her father insisted and leaned down with a familiar cracking of his knees, the sound never failing to make her cringe inwardly. Then, with a huff of exertion after patting his hand around in the long grass for a few moments, Kizashi was up again, running his thumb along a pebble. "The trick is finding a pebble that feels even in weight, rather than bulky and uneven."

Yeah, for a civilian maybe–

Green eyes widened comically when her father managed to skim the pebble perfectly to the other side of the lake, her jaw dropping.

"See?" he questioned smugly, rubbing beneath his nose with a grin. "Your old dad has a few tricks too, you know."

That was where it ended, though. Gods, if only he could have shown her how to fight and handle herself in battle. That would've been more awesome than throwing a lousy stone.

Perhaps sensing her continuing foul mood, he sobered considerably. "It's okay not to be good at something-"

"Easy for you to say," she snapped without restraint. Busying herself with searching for more stones, she clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the stinging of her eyes. "You're not the weakest person in your class who lacks any kind of talent!"

"Don't say that," Kizashi tried to scold lightly, but as usual, there was no strength in his words. "You're the smartest kid I know-"

"But not strong or talented. Some of them can breathe fire or shut down a person's chakra with just one hit, Dad!"

She happened to glance his way just in time to see his tired blue eyes sadden momentarily, looking out at the lake like he couldn't face her anguish.

Well, at least he could get away from it.

"I can just about keep up with the rest of them," she told him angrily and stood up once more, fists clenching around the handful of stones she'd found. "I'm the only student from a civilian family-"

"Because others know how difficult it is to become a shinobi when you're brought up as a civilian," he argued calmly, quietly. "That is part of the reason why so many in our family outright refuse to allow their children to go into that lifestyle."

Say it, she dared him mentally. Say what you always tell Mama.

"People glorify the shinobi lifestyle, Sakura," continued her father solemnly, though he continued to refuse to look her way. Couldn't he handle her bad mood? Damn it, he was so pitiful, especially when compared to her mother, never mind a shinobi. "But it's not how it appears at all. People die."

Say it.

"They take lives and have the lives of their friends and lovers taken."

Say it, she inwardly growled, the stinging pain of her palms somehow failing to capture her attention.

"People lose themselves."

Just hurry up and say it, you stupid old–

"Shinobi are murderers," he finally said what she'd heard him tell her mother time and time again during their routine arguments. But still, even though he'd plucked up enough courage to tell her that, he still didn't look at her and it fuelled her rage. "It doesn't matter which way you look at it. All shinobi are murderers and they try to hide behind the pitiful excuse of it being ordered of them."

It was why he didn't want her to become a kunoichi. It was why he'd fought her mother so hard when she happily insisted that joining the academy would be good for their daughter. In his eyes, becoming a kunoichi meant she would become a cold-hearted murderer.

"Civilians aren't cut out for that lifestyle," he continued, either ignoring or failing to notice her darkening aura. Even that idiot Uzumaki Naruto knew that it meant danger and ran for miles to avoid her wrath. "Most shinobi aren't cut out for it, either."

Yeah? Well she was. It didn't matter what he said about it.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were raised as a shinobi, or if we were part of a clan," she accused fiercely, glaring.

His responding silence solidified her thoughts that he was nothing more than a weak old man who couldn't even verbally fight his daughter or wife – no, not fight, but argue with. Gods, he was… He was so…

"This family is so lame!" she yelled shrilly while ignoring her own angry tears. "I wish I was born into a clan!"

Finally, he was brave enough to look her way and Sakura gritted her teeth at the sight of his hurt. She hated that it made her feel guilty for hurting him when all she was trying to do was argue her own damn case. Why did she feel like she couldn't talk to him? That he would condemn her lifestyle choices no matter how sound her argument was? How was she ever supposed to talk to him about the things that bothered her?

"We're civilians for a reason," Kizashi muttered gruffly after several long minutes, their staredown continuing. "You might not be proud of our ancestry, but choices were made for a reason and I am honoured to possess the Haruno name."

Her glare continued even as her father turned his back on her, although there was no denying the shaking of Sakura's shoulders or the wetness of her cheeks.

"Hurry up," he then said without looking back at her. "Your mother is expecting us."