Disclaimer: I do not and will never own any characters from Naruto. They are rightful possessions of the creator of the series, Kishimoto Masashi and, Shonen Jump magazines. I am merely borrowing them for the sake of personal entertainment and nothing else.

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, bad language and yaoi. Should any of these cause you discomfort, please, please, hit the back button as soon as you can. Go find yourself a happy, hetero fanfiction or whatever tickles your fancy. Spare us both the trouble, okay?

Author notes: Here it is; my obligatory offering to the SasuNaru fandom. A bit dark and depressing at times, an emotional rollercoaster at most, but this'll have to do. An amateur attempt for my part, so don't expect anything spectacular. Enjoy.

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Waiting for a Miracle

By Masaharu

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Clouds hung low and dreary on the latter part of the year in Fire region, causing harsh winds to blow and sometimes rain to fall.

It was during one of these episodes when Naruto woke. Icy winds beat up against the windows as the wooden shutters outside slammed loudly into the apartment. Thick blankets lay in a tangled mess around him, testament of restless sleep, and he burrowed deeper to their warmth with a desperation borne from one who rarely had the chance to indulge in meager creature comforts.

The muffled noises outside were enough to tell him that it was well past sunrise; still quite too early for his liking, but try as he might he knew that going back to sleep would be much more trouble than its worth.

Minutes slipped by without notice until finally, Naruto sighed in resignation and got up from bed, making a beeline to the bathroom for his morning routine. There wasn't any particular need to hurry, but a quick wash would have to suffice since the water inside the tub was absolutely freezing. Lather, scrub, rinse, and it didn't take long before he was drying himself off with his towel, his teeth chattering from cold.

Naruto quickly donned his clothes, checking for various weapons and scrolls on their respective holsters. When he deemed himself presentable he made his way out the door, snagging a piece of stale bread on the table for breakfast. He gave one last glance at his sparsely furnished room before he promptly locked the door, earning a satisfying 'click' on his wake.

He walked. Nothing but the slow cadence of sandaled feet: left, right, left, right— and he was invisible in their eyes for once, his own footsteps being the only sound reaching his hearing. No one took notice of the young man walking along the streets of Konoha, not even in his familiar shock of blond hair that normally stood like a beacon.

The lack of usual activity on the streets came little to no surprise to him. He'd come to know by heart what was missing: a marketplace where elder women beckoned passers-by to look at their merchandise, an overcrowded gambling house where older men played until their heart's content, young children running and playing around the streets. Konoha had once been at its liveliest during this time of the day.

Naruto thought he'd moved past the shock, that the rage had burned itself out. He thought all that was left was numb resignation.

Until he saw what the war had left behind and realized that it wasn't that simple.

It had never been that simple, and he wondered exactly what runs inside the people's minds when they had to rebuild their homes again and again and again, and if there even was a point in doing so when unforeseen circumstances could likely destroy it faster than batting an eyelash.

"Hey kid," A hassled man nudged him suddenly from behind, looking extraordinarily guilty. "I'm so sorry, but could you…?" he gestured towards a cart that apparently had one of its wheel stuck on a muddy hole.

Sure, since helping seemed to be the right thing to do. Obviously the man didn't recognize him, so Naruto just nodded.

"Yeah, sure. No problem," he smiled widely, and the grateful look on the man's face was something that made him pause. Such little gesture— insignificant, really, yet the man looked like Naruto had just done him a great deal of favor, and perhaps Iruka-sensei had been right all along, that it was the little things that mattered in life, that made it bearable.

Kindnesses.

Naruto's life was made up of kindnesses. Like how Iruka had always been busy yet had always managed to spend some time with Naruto at Ichiraku's. Or like the somewhat magical appearance of vegetables at his table from time to time, which was just Kakashi's subtle way of coaxing him to eat something healthier aside from ramen. Or even Tsunade's long, winded lectures whenever he got injured during a mission was something that he began to look forward to, something to remind him that he was being cared for, that he mattered.

The cart turned out heavier than it looked. Still, it was hardly trouble for any shinobi currently at his prime, and all it took was a quick flex of muscles and some chakra before the cart was quickly unstuck.

The man seemed incredibly awed by the little display, eyeing Naruto much more closely. It was then that he probably realized that Naruto was not just a mere civilian but a shinobi of the village as well.

"Thanks, kid." He cleared his throat. "Din' think my old bones could handle this all by m'self."

"Ah. It's alright."

Naruto was about to turn on his heels and leave but the man seemed inclined to hold some sort of conversation with him.

"Rough time eh, kid?" the man said, adjusting the bindings inside the cart so that his possessions wouldn't fall off. Upon closer inspection, Naruto noticed that the man's clothing was different from the ones locals in the village usually wore.

"You can say that again." Naruto shrugged. "Say, are you new here?"

"Yes. Came all the way from Suna hoping that it would be much better here, but I guess— you know."

Of course he did. No need for words as reminders; the stifling smells of dampened rubble and charred wood were enough to brand their own special hell in his memory. If the man thought that he would find a much 'greener pasture' here in Konoha, then he was vastly mistaken. Konoha wasn't exactly the poster model of a prosperous village at this time at all.

"Suna?" Naruto asked. "That's quite far. And you traveled all by yourself?"

Spoken amicably enough, and suspicion was farthest on the list of his concerns at the time. Suna was one of their closest allies, and Konoha had long opened its gates to migrants from its allied neighbors. Some sort of privilege, he supposed.

"Yes," there's a faraway look on the man's face that spoke of deep sorrow. "My family's all gone. My wife, the kids. There's nothing left for me there. I had to leave."

"Gone?" he repeated.

The man pursed his lips and nodded stiffly. For a while Naruto wondered if he'd said something wrong when it occurred to him—

Suna.

Oh.

Oh.

"I'm sorry," Naruto offered, partly because that was the first thing that came to mind and partly because he had no other words to offer. It was lame, too, because these sort of things were not supposed to happen, not in this lifetime, not when there were people ought to be protecting them and innocents weren't supposed to die like some sort of vermin simply because the enemy found it convenient.

He wondered if it was also part of Suna's privilege that they got involved in a war that almost wiped out their entire village.

"If only that coward din' fight so dirty—"

Dirty.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go after him, Naruto. I have to find him."

Dirty.

"Hokage-sama, we've just received unfortunate news from Suna..."

Dirty.

"By the gods, is that--? What's Uchiha doing there!"

And Naruto had to close his eyes because there was that familiar frustration rising again, that incredible ache that made him want to scream because there wasn't anything else he could possibly do.

"Are you alright, kid? You look mighty pale to me."

"I have to go," Naruto blurted out, louder than he intended. It was like he was having some bizarre out-of-body experience because the words were suddenly out of his mouth without second thought and his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, moving on their own accord. All that mattered was that he had to go somewhere else fast.

He was already jumping on rooftops, past the abandoned buildings, past the demolished houses when he had finally gotten a better hold of himself. He never really learned how to handle loss and pain and anger, so it had to be his inner masochistic streak leading him on when he realized where he ended up.

He'd gone to the place where it all started.

It was a small patch of land, where the grass was more soft than prickly and the wind, though barely felt, was comforting and always there.

From there he could see the bridge, their bridge, and it wasn't that hard to think of the time when there had been three people there once— waiting, a little annoyed but not really. They weren't there, complaining about how bored they were then not getting up to do something; or griping how perpetually late their sensei always was while they carved silly figures on the planks to pass some time— or even how said sensei always came up with most outrageous reasons to explain his tardiness.

They weren't there, and the old dilapidated bridge with initials and shapes etched on its skin seemed lonely.

-----------------------------

"I'm so sorry, but there hasn't been any change Uzumaki-san."

Huh. That really wasn't what Naruto wanted to hear. He'd been visiting the hospital almost everyday, sometimes even twice in one day, and all he wanted was to hear some damned improvement.

Just a little. Except for the part where the nurses wouldn't humor him.

"Oh. Okay," he tried to smile but he was afraid that his half-hearted attempts ended up more like a pained grimace. "Thanks, anyway."

The nurse left after giving a curt nod, and by then he had already eased himself on the stool by the bedside, feeling as if a dead weight had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Naruto always hated hospitals. For one so young and so full of life, it seemed like the worst place possible one could end up. This was where the critically injured could only pray for a miracle to determine if they would pull through or not. This was where the terminally ill could only wait for the inevitable as the last dredges of their life bled into nothingness.

Even battlefields were more merciful; death and suffering were dealt in quickly and at least for a shinobi to die while on duty that was considered an honor.

Hospitals were a different case; Naruto couldn't stand the feeling of being surrounded by so much suffering and being completely helpless to do anything about it.

But worst of all, Naruto thought, was seeing the same mask of suffering draped over a face that he cared for, eyes that gazed at him with fondness. To see those thin, fragile hands lay atop the coverlet, the long fingers motionless. It didn't seem real to him, to see all this brilliance and warmth smothered into dullness.

The patient's lips were parted slightly, eyes closed, and Naruto felt suspended in time, staring at him. Waiting.

He looked so still. Too still, in fact, that Naruto almost felt his heart skip a beat.

And then he moved. He moved. It was the almost indecipherable rise and fall of the chest, but it was more than enough. Naruto knew in some vague sense that, despite the nurse' assurance, he had expected the worst. That the man in front of Naruto was in fact, dead; that the nurses, the doctors, everyone, had been building and building up to the inevitable and just didn't see fit to tell him the truth.

The relief that he felt to see him move, to see proof that the man was still alive kindled a spark in Naruto that he desperately held on to.

Hope.

"I only had a piece of bread for breakfast today," Naruto groused. "You hear that? Bread. So don't go blaming me if I get sick or anything. It's your fault anyway, making me worry and all."

Naruto fidgeted on his seat, pretty much unused to being still for any extended period of time.

"But seriously, I'm not eating anything healthy until you wake up, okay? Or even ramen," he added in his most lofty tones. "Especially ramen. So you better hurry 'cos you owe me a couple of bowls at Ichiraku's."

It was official: one-sided conversations were frustrating as hell, and should anyone come inside the room right now they might as well peg him as mentally disturbed.

"I, uh, forgot to mention that I went to your apartment yesterday. Was worried that your landlady threw away your stuff because you haven't been able to pay the rent." He rubbed the back of his head. "Turns out that some of your friends had it all covered for the next month or so. Sheesh, you're a kept man, sensei. A kept man."

His lips quirked when he spotted the items on the bedside table.

"Hey, hey, your students brought you get-well letters and some cards," he wrinkled his nose over the last one. "The flowers are— nice, I guess? Er, pretty? Girly? Looks like the Yamanakas are back to business. As for the letters… well, you'll just have to read them for yourself. I'm sure the brats are sorely missing you now." He nodded sagely.

"Tsunade-baba said that it may take a while before the academy's all fixed up. It's such a wreck like you wouldn't believe it! I still don't understand what those assholes were thinking when they thrashed the place, but maybe they're just creeps like that."

He felt jittery. His fingers did it all on their own, brushing imaginary lint off the mattress, smoothing back the covers, before settling back once more on his lap. Keep talking, he urged himself, just say something.

"I already told the old hag about it so you don't have to worry. I bet she'll have it up and running in no time," he chuckled. "If she doesn't slack off, that is."

Once his laughter died down he realized how futile his efforts were; he was already at loss for words, not having any idea what else to say. Never in his life did he imagine that the day when he'd run out of things to talk about would dawn.

The room was silent; the hospital was silent, as everything was silent. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, waiting, but it definitely felt far too long for what could only be an hour.

Finally: "I guess that's it for now. I'm not supposed to stay long here," he paused. "Tsunade-baba wanted to have a word with me. Kinda urgent, from the looks of it. So I have to go."

"But I'll be back soon, okay? You can count on it. I swear, I won't stop bugging you until you wake up."

He stood up and made his way for the door.

"Bye, Iruka-sensei."

-----------------------------

Naruto's life was full of silences. It always has been, from the stiff conversations with his temporary guardians before he was finally left to fend for himself, to the chill and detached dealings he has had with the villagers. He's always been surrounded by pause, made cautious by reticence, and has learned to cope through avoidance and feigned cheerfulness.

His existence hung heavy with absence; too many awkward conversations because of the entity sealed inside his body, too many attempts at communication where the moments do not quite connect with one another, like a puzzle with some pieces missing.

Naruto has learned to despise these silences and has often sought to banish them as much as possible. He did it as though it was a sign of protest, like it was his due to call for attention especially when people wouldn't give it to him.

The air in the Hokage's room was quiet and heavy, the stillness broken only by the steady, rhythmic beat of the ornate clock on the far corner of the wall. He tried drumming his fingers on the desk while he waited, but the sounds were too muffled to appease him.

He didn't like the stillness one bit; it made him think too much.

The door opened smoothly behind him, the approaching footsteps were too light and measured to be anyone else. Naruto glanced up accordingly as Tsunade sat down behind the desk, folding her hands neatly on the polished surface.

Various bizarre knickknacks were placed strategically on the desk, more of as a paperweight than ornament in itself. Naruto stared at them with false interest. There was this troubled look on the woman's face and frankly, he didn't know what to make of it.

"Is there something wrong?" Naruto asked.

Tsunade stared back at him for a moment, quite taken aback by the inquiry. He felt a mild flare irritation. Sure, he might not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he wasn't that dense.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong," she assured him. "Just tired."

She smiled at him from across the table, though her smile was a little strained. She did look tired— gods, they were all tired and unhappy.

"Tired?" Naruto sniffed in mock arrogance. "Pft. You're just making excuses. Admit it, you're getting too old."

"Oh yes, I am old," Tsunade agreed. "Old enough to do this, you brat." She promptly flicked him on the forehead.

It being Tsunade, it hurt quite a lot.

"Ow. Maybe it's time for you to— you know," he waggled his eyebrows, "resign?"

"Dream on, you brat. Dream on."

It was nice to fall into their usual banter. Naruto rarely had the chance to speak with her over the past few days, both of them being kept with much more pressing responsibilities. And while it was good to know that the familiarity was still there, he felt like she was stalling over some issue. An issue that she felt the need to discuss with him personally.

It had to be something big, judging by her feeble efforts to go along their repartee.

"Er. Not that I find your company unpleasant, old hag," he grinned cheekily. "But seriously, why'd you call for me? I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that 'hag' bit," she glared. "And no, you're not in trouble. Not more than usual, of course."

"Then what?"

Tsunade didn't reply right away. She had this pensive look on her face as though severely contemplating whether it would be a good decision to tell Naruto or not.

Naruto blinked. "Uh—?"

Finally, Tsunade sighed. "I've just received reports from our spies; the ones keeping tabs over Oto."

His grin faltered. That didn't bode well for him. In fact, it set off every proverbial alarm in Naruto's arsenal simultaneously.

"Spies? Oto? What— what's going on?"

He was cut off with a low shush from Tsunade.

"The reports mention that there were sightings of one particular Konoha missing-nin in Oto," she stared at him intently. "I just thought you might be interested in hearing this: it's the same nin that you've been searching for over the past four months."

"Missing nin? Four months?" he repeated dumbly when it dawned to him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Sakura-chan?"

Tsunade nodded, a grim look on her face.

"Are you sure? I mean—" he frowned. "The spies could be wrong. Maybe they—"

"Naruto."

Four months. Four agonizing months of frantic searching, only to end up like this. Sakura was smart; he had to give her that. She graduated on the academy with flying colors, the envy of some of her peers. She was smart, she was intelligent and damn it, she wasn't stupid.

So what the hell was she thinking, going there of all places?

"I'm going to Oto," Naruto stood up abruptly. His hands were shaking, betraying the sense of determination that he so desperately tried to project. "I'm going after her. I have to."

Tsunade regarded him coolly. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"I don't care if it's not!" he snapped. "She's my friend and I have to bring her back!"

"Your friend," Tsunade countered, "happens to be a missing-nin of this village."

That said it all; no sugarcoating and niceties and the truth stung like nothing else.

"It doesn't matter. I'm still leaving."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then why did you have to tell this in first place?"

"Oh, so would you rather I not tell you this?" Tsunade scoffed. "She's a missing-nin, Naruto. Remember that. The villagers aren't exactly forthcoming with that kind of thing. And to top it all, she doesn't have anything else to come back to. Her mother—"

"She still has me," he thought his voice had never sounded so pathetic, so needy before. "She still has her friends."

"Well, yes. Of course. But tell me, will that be enough to make her to stay?"

"Don't you care about her at all?" Naruto asked, exasperated. "Damn it, she was your student once! Why are doing this?"

"If I didn't care," Tsunade bit out, "then I would have allowed the hunter-nins to pursue her."

Naruto pursed his lips stubbornly.

"I know you're upset, but think about this first. Logically. We've yet to pinpoint Orochimaru's whereabouts, and Oto is a very dangerous place. He may have lost the war, but that doesn't mean he won't try something once he got wind that you're on his territory."

Frankly, he didn't care. He didn't care about himself, about Orochimaru, about everything. All he could think about were those wonderful times, meeting by the bridge, team seven, Kakashi-sensei, Sasuke, their missions, their training, and realized with a sudden pang that if he lost Sakura now then he would have nothing else left.

"I made the mistake of letting her go once," he said quietly. "I even had the gall to call her my friend— but I let her go. I don't want to make the same mistake twice. Please, I have to find her."

And if it came to the point of disobeying her orders, then so be it.

"You're not listening—"

"Please."

"Fine, fine." Tsunade sighed. "But you're still looking for trouble, you brat. Just don't come whining to me when your trip doesn't turn out the way you wanted to. I tried to warn you, so that's that."

"Really? I get to go?" he breathed in relief. "Thanks. Thanks, I owe you a big one, old hag."

An eyebrow twitched.

"Shut up. Do you want me to change my mind?"

"No!" Nervous laugh. "Heh, I'm just kidding."

Silence.

"And Naruto?"

"Yeah?"

"Just— just come back in one piece, you hear me? I'll pound you dust if you don't."

Naruto chuckled. "Got it."

-----------------------------

The streets of Oto were no different from those of any other village.

Or at least, that was what Naruto liked to think in such a post-war scenario. He could have commented on how crude the structures were compared to the ones back in Konoha, but that would have sounded incredibly insignificant given that not much of the said structures were standing in the first place. Towering buildings reduced to rubble, houses leveled beyond recognition— it could have been worse, he had seen the worst, but that sliver of thought will never be compensation in the midst of such destruction.

War doesn't heed a master, and even a powerful village would succumb to its clutches. Iruka-sensei had once lectured that war was no different to a parasite; once it had found its host it begins to consume mindlessly, always without regard, until there's nothing more left of the host for the pest to benefit anymore. When such moment occurs, it then leaves in search of another.

And this time, the 'parasite' had chosen this village.

Streets were idle deathtraps. Citizens don't walk outside anymore, and it was good, showing that they still had an ounce of self-preservation left to know what's good for their lives. Or their sanity.

The alley stunk of garbage, and he really didn't want to think about it, but the other nasty smell was enough to make his eyes water: rotten flesh. It felt like he was ill, like some horrible disease had taken hold of his stomach and in his throat was a dull ache, the precursor of vomiting.

Exhaustion was familiar, even with his inhuman stamina. Sleep was a luxury; he'd been running around too long, and he couldn't remember the last eight hours strung together with anything but a dull pressure sinking in the bottom of his stomach, swimming lazily until he knew he'd pass out if he so much as stopped.

He ducked between the ruins of a store, stepping through debris and accumulated trash without hesitation. God only knew what's underneath and it might be of his best interest to not to even guess. At a distance he could see the flare of a burning house, along with the crackle and hiss of flames as it devoured everything in its path.

Even with his eyes closed it was futile; the image of destruction had already branded itself deep in his mind to be banished. A small part of him screamed, wanting to curl inside his apartment back in Konoha and be safe, have this entire thing a nightmare, and just wake up and forget all of it.

Tired hands slid slow and steady over spongy-wet wood until he found the edge of a door made of dented metal, tracing the creases before yanking it aside. The shrill noise it gave was enough to give away his presence, and he berated himself for his recklessness as he slipped inside.

The confined stuffiness of an unventilated room was almost staggering; smells of stale air and unwashed bodies, dim lights from scattered lanterns and sounds of a ruptured water pipe. His body wanted to relax, even if his mind knew he was not welcome here more than anywhere else. His clothing made it impossible to hide who he was— not that there was any need to— and he braced himself for the shocked silence as he entered, the gazes filled with terror following his every movement.

He felt the dull need to reassure that he meant no harm, but knew that they were beyond listening.

The people scampered out of his way like vermin. It was pitiful to see how the war had easily doused the spirits of the people of a once-proud village and reduced them to such mess. His fists bunched unconsciously, and pretended not to hear the furious litany of pleas when he crossed between bundles of rags that might have been people if he took enough time to look.

Ragged clothes and desperate looks, dirt-streaked faces contorted in fear— it was all caught in his peripheral vision and it struck him like a sword-thrust although it hurt tenfold. He'd always liked to think that he was among those people who braved the fire and came out infinitely tougher, with resolve that matched steel. He thought he'd seen enough 'ugliness' in his lifetime that nothing could shock him anymore.

It came as no surprise that reality would prove him otherwise.

He found her at the back of the room. Curled on a dark corner, it was as though she wanted to make herself small as possible, make herself less noticeable. It would have succeeded if not for the glaring details: her clothes were different, her hair color stood like a beacon and most of all, she was alone. Instinct itself often drove people to cluster around one another when terrified, needing the contact to achieve some semblance of safety. She was wise enough to remove her hitai-ate; without it, she was just another nameless face in their crowd, another victim of the war.

She would have already found herself out on the streets, or worse, beaten to death, if they knew where she really came from.

Either she was too tired or too dazed, for she didn't move when he crouched and brought his fingers to her shoulder. Upon contact, she looked up, but her eyes were dull, like she'd gone somewhere far and return would be next to impossible.

"Saku—" his throat caught up and he ruthlessly forced it back to operation. "Sakura-chan."

There's a small quirk of her lips that could have been a smile, but it vanished too quickly for him to be sure. She favored her right arm as if the slightest of movement caused her immense pain. She struggled for better leverage, giving a choked whimper.

Briefly, Sakura pressed her fingers near her throat. He pretended not to notice the large purple bruise that seemed to curl around her neck.

"Naruto?" Apparently, her injured throat was giving her trouble speaking. Her voice came out raspy, almost like a harsh whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"You sure know how to hide, Sakura-chan. Took me ages to find you," he tried to grin in a desperate attempt to inject humor in their gloomy situation. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, let's go back to Konoha."

A pause. For a while, Sakura's eyes became wistful, probably lost in the snippets of pleasant memories brought upon the mention of their home village. Nostalgia had always been a very effective escape mechanism.

Sakura shook her head.

"I can't. Not this time."

His grin dropped and he stared at her in bewildered silence.

"What? Why?"

"I'm sorry," her voice cracked. "I just— can't. I can't go back now."

"But look at yourself!" the words came tumbling out of his mouth without thought. "You look very sick! And— and you won't survive here in your condition!"

"I'll be fine."

"Not in this place you won't."

"I want to stay here. I have to stay here."

The breath he didn't know he'd been holding came out explosively. He couldn't understand her at all. It didn't make any sense; here she was, a pitiful mess contrary to her former self, yet she remained stubborn like a mule. She still wouldn't hear reason.

"This is still about him, isn't it?" he asked, frustrated.

Him. After all these years Naruto still couldn't bring himself to speak his former teammate's name.

"Please, Sakura-chan," he tried again, getting close enough to take in the sickening scent of filth and blood. "Everything will be okay, I promise. Just— just come back, please?"

"No."

"Sakura—"

"I said no!" she cried, her voice rising in what little decibel her injured throat allowed her to. "I won't go back to Konoha. Not now, not ever. So just leave me alone!"

There used to be a time when Naruto admired her spirit. True, she never had a unique technique like Ino's, or weapons mastery at par with Tenten's, or even the battle prowess like Temari's, but still, she took a stand for her own. She knew her strengths just as well as her weaknesses, and with that knowledge she went on, pushed herself to her limits because she wanted to be something of worth.

It was frightening; Naruto didn't know the Sakura in front of him anymore.

"I'm sorry Sakura-chan," Quick fingers found her right arm, and without hesitation, he pressed hard. Sakura gave a sharp gasp of pain before she crumpled, falling unconscious onto his waiting arms. He silently hoped that she understood his actions, and that he really didn't want to hurt her had there been another choice.

He felt the attention of the room as he stood— they're looking at him very closely now, wary with each unexpected movement. The people paused when he moved and recoiled when he stopped, as if he was about to indulge in some sort of killing spree. Their fear hung thick in the air and was almost tangible, oppressive.

Out of the door into grey-skied day, Naruto carried the almost weightless bundle in his arms, agile steps through garbage-strewn streets. His senses were working at their full extent; chances of survival were close to none should they get caught in such precarious situation, and he didn't want to die in Oto of all places.

"Everything will be okay… everything will be okay…"

-----------------------------

Four hours later.

Half awake, Sakura sprawled on a lumpy futon after Naruto placed her arm in a makeshift cast. Tattered strips of linen wrapped around the injury and draped around her neck— the cast would not survive a strong tug, but it was all he could do with his meager medical skills. All throughout the process Sakura had barely flinched; he had worried that she might have finally gone into shock until he heard a barely audible 'thanks' when he was done.

He'd decided to take shelter on an abandoned house for the time being; twice they had already encountered rogue nins, and while they had managed through it all unscathed, he really didn't want to push his luck that far. Rest was now a prerogative— it was awfully taxing to fight while protecting Sakura at the same time, and much as he liked to leave the village as soon as possible, he didn't want to risk their lives in the next skirmish either.

"Do you need anything else?" Naruto asked. Not to be discouraged by the lack of response he decided to press on. "How about food? I've brought enough provisions that we could share."

"I'm not hungry."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'll be fine."

That was a lie. Sakura looked like she would to keel over a strong wind but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Away from the dim lights of the hellhole she had burrowed herself into, the extent of her injuries were now open for scrutiny. Torn clothes revealed deep gashes, some of which were already scabbed while others a step closer to being infected. There were weird seals drawn on both of her arms, the ink a stark contrast to her pale complexion. Her mouth was swollen, caked blood grazing the corner of her lips.

That she was still able to talk coherently was quite a feat in itself.

She would probably lie again too, dared he ask if she was in too much pain.

"Hey," he said, prompting Sakura to give him a sidelong glance. To his utter mortification he was suddenly at loss for words, his thoughts running into a jumbled mess that refused to take form. Were four months really that long that they had managed to create a gap wide enough that even former teammates couldn't cross?

Then: "Ah, nothing," he averted his gaze, embarrassed. "Sorry."

Remaining quiet was a troublesome task. It made him notice a lot of things— trivial things, really, like how his kunai still smelled of blood regardless of countless times he'd already polished it, or how a lone moth kept circling around the lantern, drawn by its flickering light.

"Did— did you find him?" Naruto whispered after a lengthy silence.

There's a slight hitch in his voice, enough to convey who he was referring to. Days, months, years— time was hardly of consequence and Naruto wracked his mind to recall the last time he had actually managed to say 'Sasuke' without that bitter aftertaste on his mouth.

'You should learn how to forgive, brat,' Jiraya had once chided him to this fault. It was a little gem of advice, just another bunch of wise words strung together that he had learnt back in a distant, painful lifetime.

"No," Sakura replied. Another handful of seconds passed before she added, "I didn't find Sasuke."

Naruto slid the kunai back to its holster, looking up to her face.

"I see." He said.

Sakura simply nodded and closed her eyes, slumping into the dusty futon with something like relief. He wished he had something better to add, but there's nothing else he could say that he hadn't said before.

"How's Konoha?"

"Konoha?" he repeated dumbly, taken off guard by her sudden shift of topic. "The village's fine, I guess."

"Really?"

"Eh? Yeah," His unsure, nervous laugh echoed hollowly in the room. "Pretty much thrashed but you know how it is. Just give the people some time and everything will be back to normal again."

Naruto could tell that she wasn't convinced, but he wasn't being exactly truthful either. Half of Konoha looked like a demolition job gone bad, and while it didn't look as severe as Oto, telling Sakura that it was 'fine' would be a far stretch from the truth. He just didn't want to remember the details, like how the streets weren't as crowded and lively. Or the seemingly endless list of new names added on the Memorial stone.

"How many died?"

He knew that she'd ask that question. He also knew that it wasn't what she'd meant to ask at all.

"I don't know."

And he didn't. He honestly didn't. Counting would only trivialize it, make the deaths cheap, like people were mere numbers to be chocked off on a tally board. Sakura simply nodded, as if she understood, and for a while Naruto felt a pang of resentment because she didn't. She could never hope to understand. Not when she had simply up and left the village and exchanged her life for a fruitless chase.

Sakura let out a shuddering breath, only to suck in another.

"Is… is my mother…?" she asked.

Faded pink hair, face weathered by age— there was no wonder where Sakura had gotten her looks from. It was like looking at an old photo, only with brighter tint. She had been graceful and polite, obviously one of those cultured women with hands that no doubt spent most of their childhood curled around teapots. Laugh lines were made prominent when she spoke, and her voice had that same patient quality like Iruka-sensei's.

Daughter? She's not my daughter, not anymore!

The woman passed away bitter, of course.

It felt like a blow to the gut. Sakura couldn't have known. She had no idea.

"I'm sorry," he said. He'd been saying those words an awful lot for the past few weeks and he often wondered if he meant it this time. Or if even Sakura appreciated the gesture. "I'm so sorry."

At first, there was nothing. All that was left was an unresponsive mask she had recently begun to wear, a façade in which emotions were held tightly in check. Her gaunt features were rigid, eyes closed, as if she hadn't heard a word he said or she simply didn't care.

And then he saw it.

The façade cracked; small undecipherable fissures that wouldn't be visible unless one knew what to look for. There was that deviant part of his mind that pointed out the details, just like a casual viewer. The slight hitch of breath, the tightly shut eyelids. The way her shoulders quaked ever so slightly and, of course, the clenching and unclenching of her good hand, like she had to restrain herself from lashing out.

He had that wretched impulse to grab Sakura, hold onto her as if he could make things okay by holding on tight enough, and burrow her head into his shoulder to mumble some sort of apology. But he hadn't had the first idea of how to go about doing something like that. Nobody taught him the right words, the proper gestures, and he couldn't just go on and blurt out 'she loved you very much', not when the truth was Sakura's mother held on to her hatred up until her very end.

And so he brought up his hand to her face, and gently, just like the caress feathers on his skin, he brushed the tears that seemed to pour endlessly from her closed eyes. He thought of the hole this new loss was burning into Sakura, of the larger one Sasuke's loss had already burnt, and felt the familiar sting in his own eyes.

"It's alright," he whispered hoarsely. "It will take time, but it'll be alright."

Those words tasted sour as he choked them out, and the aftertaste only served worse in his mind. He didn't believe it. The only reason he said this was all because it needed to be said. Perhaps those were magic words that would make her believe in that time, in that moment of 'alright-ness.' 'Perhaps' being the keyword, that was. Blind faith could only do so much.

Sometime later, Sakura's hitching sobs dwindled and her trembling ceased. Her breathing began to deepen, and it was nothing but the slow grasp of half a decade-long exhaustion, coaxing her gently into thick comfort. They were relatively safe, he surmised, easing himself to a reclined position. The floor was cold and twice as uninviting— not that it mattered, really. He had endured far worse sleeping conditions before, and getting cricks on his back when he woke was definitely the least of his concerns.

He turned to his side and faced Sakura, his mind absurdly blank.

There was just something broken about the way she slept.

-----------------------------

Dreams didn't blur for Naruto like they did for other people.

They were more like memories, he supposed, only on a greater level. More intense, more high-strung, more vivid that it often left him breaking cold sweat and gasping for breath. Probably had something to do with sleep deprivation and his exhaustion, maybe more to do with the nightmares that would greet him when he woke.

In his dreams he could hear the voices, the agonized screams. He remembered the smells of death and dying that imprinted itself on his memory. He could still feel the disgusting ooze of enemy blood on his first kill, warm sticky blood that could never be completely washed from his body. He could see villages swathed in flames; Konoha, Suna, Oto— different places, different ideals, but in the end they were more alike than anyone could have ever imagined.

For him, dreams were more than mere images provided by his subconscious; they were nasty sensory treats.

Sometimes though, he dreamt of faces. Familiar faces like Sakura-chan or Kakashi-sensei or Iruka-sensei, all passing by like a blur, like a smudged paint spun together by a careless brush. Along with their faces came snippets of conversation: Kakashi-sensei muttering his feeble excuses, Iruka-sensei inviting him out for ramen, and Sakura-chan scolding him for his carelessness. Such kind of dreams often had a trickle of fondness in them, a pleasant kind of warmth, and for him that was more than enough.

There were odd occasions when the faces were strangers; nothing but nameless crowds whom he may have encountered at some point in his lifetime, some probably already dead while some were not. Remembering worthy opponents had been nice, but the sentiment lost its luster the moment he realized that he had killed far too many.

It came as a surprise when the face was different this time. His face.

Had to know in some warped part of his subconscious if this had been deliberate, this lengthy delay. It was disconcerting, to say the least, especially when memories tightly repressed suddenly kept rushing, uncontrollable, sifting through with mindless abandon like a handful of sand.

Remembering him had always been painfully inevitable. Inevitable, which he had to admit, but easy. Easy like the way the string of epithets rolled forth his mind: genius, teammate, rival, traitor, bastard incarnate—

Sasuke.

Sasuke, all in his arrogant and tragic glory, staring down at him with dark eyes, cloudy and clear all the same time. The obstinate curl of his lips, the brooding aura befitting of his self-proclaimed avenger role. Once a teammate, twice a traitor, yet the same Sasuke who had always watched his back and once rescued him from Haku's deadly needles. Sasuke, who once told him how important he was, would always protect, never desert, his precious people, his teammate, his confidante, his rival, his best friend, and—

Well. Nothing like a full-powered chidori rammed up his chest for a wake-up call.

Naruto sat up, chest heaving and slick with sweat under his clothing. The world was blurred around him and for a moment he was confused, wondering where he was until realization finally sank in.

He was on the floor, Sakura lying on the futon beside him. Still in Oto, his mind supplied helpfully, and he just had a dream about Sasuke for the first time in five years. It had felt so damned real, so staggering and his eyes felt so dry that they burned.

Sakura was still sleeping, all liquid comfort here and curled up around herself like everything was just fine. He knew better, of course. He could see it on the taut lines of her face, on the deceptive twitch of her body. She mumbled in her sleep, barely audible in the claustrophobic room, and he didn't even have to strain his ears to know who she was calling out to.

Such desperation in her voice so strong that it sung, as if every cell in her body carried the urge...

He didn't like it one bit.

He could practically feel the worry, the growing need to help, fix it, try to be the hero yet again, and suddenly a torrent of inexplicable resentment welled up inside, telling him for once that he should just damn stop caring. Anger, blessed, safe, white hot anger rose and he pressed the heel of his palm on his eye hard until violent bursts of color filled his sight.

It was this displaced sort of feeling, more like he was a stranger to his own self. His body ached to hit something, anything, but he didn't know how to go on about that. Instead, he bit his lip hard, throwing his head back until his lip bled and his neck muscles screamed in pain.

He tried to get a grip, pushed himself up the floor, still with that aching knot of frustration and despair in his chest.

There's another little sound from Sakura that made him frown, and he reached over to touch one shoulder. Inches before contact, Sakura's hand was wrapped around his wrist and her eyes fully open as if she'd never been asleep.

It was disturbing when she did that, and it made him catch his breath.

"Sakura-chan?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing. It's— nothing. Just a bad dream."

-----------------------------

An hour passed. Naruto couldn't bring himself to go back to sleep so he settled to counting the cracks on the ceiling instead. There's a rustle of clothing ever so often, the uneven breathing, and he knew without a doubt that Sakura was also awake.

Naruto thought of the times they were like this, when there was no need to fill the gaps of silence. There hadn't been many, he conceded. Words just become superfluous when one had already seen far too much.

He turned his head to Sakura's direction. She was staring blankly out the window, lost in her thoughts. That would have been fine, but at that angle there was nothing to see out the window; even the moon was out of sight. It was disconcerting when she was just staring at nothingness.

He was about to open his mouth and speak when Sakura beat him to it.

"I learned how to read when I was four," she informed him distantly.

That was unexpected. Still, he didn't want to blurt out anything horribly clichéd like, I've always known that you were very smart Sakura-chan, so he clamped his mouth shut.

"Or a least, that's what mother told me," Sakura said, a familiar touch of fondness warming her voice. "She was the hands-on type, you see. Liked to fuss and do things herself. And father— he's rarely home so my mother took the full brunt of raising me."

"Really? I mean," he faltered, embarrassed. That didn't come out right. "I've only met your mother once, but—"

"She didn't look motherly, I know." Sakura supplied for him. "She may not look like it, but she is. Was. In some ways."

Naruto thought of the prim, old woman whom he had encountered once in Konoha, and somehow, the 'motherly' bit didn't quite fit. But then, he wasn't exactly an authority on knowing how parents were supposed to act, let alone look like.

"My father thought it would be good for me to enter the Academy when I was about nine," she continued. "Mother wasn't pleased— she didn't have to say anything, but one look was enough to tell what she was thinking. With the way father gets injured after his missions, I wouldn't blame her for wanting me to pursue something less… dangerous."

"You were forced?" he asked hesitantly.

That didn't settle quite well for him. Becoming a shinobi had been always been a dream for him; a stepping stone that would bring him closer to achieving his goals. He had never considered that kind of perspective, and was somewhat glad that being an orphan made him free from such pressures.

"No, no, I wasn't forced. It was my choice that I agreed with my father. I guess it's partly because I wanted to make him proud and partly because—" There was a gleam of wry humor in Sakura's eyes when she opened them. "You know."

And he did know. He wasn't daft like the lot of them made him out to be. He'd seen enough of her looks, her shy smiles. He had seen the way she had been very grateful for even the smallest kind of attention from Sasuke.

"Because of him." he said. It took a valiant effort in his part to suppress the bile in his own voice. Unfortunately, Sakura's flinch was enough to tell that he didn't do a good job of it. "Because of Sasuke."

"Because of Sasuke," Sakura affirmed. "Predictable, isn't it?"

He shrugged in response.

"My mother never really liked Sasuke," she admitted further.

That certainly was odd. As much as he hated to admit it, Sasuke was quite well-liked in the village. The very mention of the word 'Uchiha' often called for silent respect among the villagers. The noblest among the bloodlines, they often said.

"She said that at the rate that Sasuke was going he would end being no different from his brother. She said that his thirst for vengeance will consume him someday, and that it would be better if I'd just forget my— 'fixation' for him before I get too involved." She paused, then: "I guess I was just too stubborn to listen."

Naruto scooted closer to Sakura, groping for something to say that wasn't stupid.

"Don't blame yourself for it, Sakura-chan," he said. "There's just no telling what goes inside that bastard's mind."

"And you almost got yourself hurt when you tried to bring him back," she agued back. "He hurt you. That alone should have told me that he was beyond helping— that after all those time together he really didn't care about us."

Sakura's voice was quiet, but something in it precluded interruption. Grief, maybe.

"And you know what's funny? Even after all that, I still didn't believe it. A small part of me still hoped that maybe if I tried hard enough, he would change his mind and go back."

"Sakura-chan…"

He'd thought of the same way too, thought that if Sasuke wouldn't listen reason, then maybe they could do it the hard way. That he could beat sense to him if that was what it would take to bring him back.

"You might think that it's shallow, like a schoolgirl crush blown way out of proportion." There was wounded curve on Sakura's mouth. "I've thought of it that way too-- I mean, with all the books that I've read, one might figure that I should have been smarter than that."

"Stop it," Naruto said, growing weary of her self-depreciating rant. "Just— stop it. Please"

"I didn't want anything to end up this way," Sakura insisted as if she didn't hear him. "I forgot to say goodbye to my mother, did you know that? She was right all along but now she's dead and I won't be able to tell her that I'm very sorry."

And he looked at her, really looked at her, saw past all the bruises on her face, on her arms, on her body. Saw the mottled purplish-black discoloration on her neck, large and hideous, forming almost the shape of a complete hand.

No, I didn't find Sasuke.

"You forgot to say goodbye to your mother," he snapped. "You just up and left, became a missing nin, and all for what? Have yourself beaten black and blue?"

Naruto's voice cracked like a whip and he saw Sakura flinch again.

"And I didn't just get hurt. It was not a simple scratch, not a small cut, Sakura-chan. He fucking tried to punch a hole on my chest! What more proof do you want?"

Naruto was panting and the whole world seemed to go faster when he breathed faster. This wasn't safe, letting it out all in the open, because it wasn't something he had done before and now he couldn't, couldn't control himself. And it was a twisted feeling because he'd like someone else to suffer this time, actually, for a change.

Because he remembered everything.

That the first messenger from Suna had came scrambling inside the Hokage's office, bearing urgent news. Massive outbreak, he'd said, that a major water supply had been laced with poison, thus effectively killing hundreds of villagers. And Tsunade had stared at him with wide, shocked eyes and Naruto hadn't even realized the implications of the news until the very next day.

Which was the same day Oto had openly launched their assault, and by then clarity couldn't get any more glaring. There was no point denying it. That the incident in Suna had been nothing more but a ploy to render Konoha short of an ally, and this knowledge absolutely appalled him.

So they had fought. Either kill or be killed. Naruto had never truly grasped the concept of betrayal, but that was before he met it firsthand. Because betrayal had been the face of the smirking man perched atop Manda's head, and now Naruto could never pretend to himself that there had not been one moment when Sasuke abandoned everything he had in exchange for power. And that—

—that was when Naruto finally gave up hope for him.

Tears were falling from Sakura's troubled eyes, leaving brilliant tracks of moisture against pallid cheeks.

I made her cry, Naruto thought furiously, I swore to myself that I would always protect my precious people yet here I am hurting Sakura-chan.

"I— I'm sorry, Sakura-chan," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that."

And it felt horrible that he was sorry that he wasn't sorry, and that he did mean the things he'd said earlier.

"C'mon, we're leaving," Naruto coaxed, getting to his feet. He pretended not notice when Sakura practically shied away from his touch, stubbornly insisting that she could stand on her own. She swayed precariously a couple of times until Naruto was left with no other choice but to carry her on his back again.

Outside, he took a second, and then chose his direction. This way, that way, scattered concrete, asphalt and god, bodies. He could run across Oto and never look back. Easy not to see the blood under his feet, notice the nasty stench of decay, and he fervently swore never set foot in this village in any foreseeable future.

The skies bled velvety black, mocking them in its deceptive peacefulness. Naruto kept running, breathing slightly, and there's this thick sense of exhilaration that coursed through his veins, urging him to go faster.

And then he stopped. Stopped moving, stopped breathing because he just had the worst luck possible and this must be some elaborate cosmic joke played at his expense.

Standing a few feet away from them was Sasuke, all dark and forbidding, a mocking smile twisting his lips.

It was achingly familiar. Sasuke looked achingly familiar. Only he was not Sasuke, not really, not when Naruto knew who was inside that husk of a body that had once been his teammate's.

"Tsk tsk, what a pity," said Orochimaru, and his voice made Naruto's blood run cold; it had a hissing quality like the spineless reptile he truly was. "Leaving so soon?"

-----------------------------

Naruto skidded backwards at an alarming speed, his feet forming clouds of dust on their wake.

Several soft popping sounds were heard as every single one of his shadow clones was eliminated.

"Oh, that's great. Really," Orochimaru said in his most supercilious tones. He clapped his hands for effect before adding, "I see that you haven't lost your style, Naruto-kun. You're still first class entertainment."

"And you're pathetic," Naruto spat. "I hope you know that."

Orochimaru casually plucked the kunai embedded in his arm and, to Naruto's disgust, promptly licked the blood off the offending weapon. For one absurd moment Naruto wondered if Orochimaru was actually impervious to pain because his sleeve began to seep an angry red.

Naruto was bleeding at lot, too.

He knew he was in serious trouble. Even his demonic healing abilities were unable to compensate for all the injuries he had sustained, and by his first stumble came the realization that there's a great possibility that he and Sakura may never get out of this predicament alive.

There was blood, so much blood, painting the ground around them a blessed crimson.

The sight was awfully reminiscent. On his first kill he'd stared at his hand in a dazed stupor, shock and this alien feeling warring inside him as the warm liquid dribbled down. Shock because he never thought that there'd be so much blood. Never thought anybody had that much blood in them.

And that alien feeling—

Now that he had given much consideration about it, he was willing to admit that, yes, that feeling had been the initial stirrings of bloodlust.

Because that was all he could think of right here, right now.

That his mind was devoid of everything except this one urge to kill, and all the ways he wanted do it.

Orochimaru opened his palm and the kunai fell to the ground in a muted clang.

"Any more tricks you care to dish out?" he taunted.

"Shut up, snake freak," Naruto snarled. "Talk with your fists and not with your nasty mouth."

They started quickly, flying at one another. Limbs and weapons clashed in vicious combat, exchanging real blows, spilling more blood, as if both were itching to get rid of their opponent so much.

Naruto reacted to a sharp swipe immediately, sliding sideways while twisting to keep himself facing the enemy. Orochimaru's fist flew past his ear in a whooshing sound, and Naruto took advantage of the unguarded moment to ram his own fist against his opponent's stomach, and then kick the legs underneath him. Naruto brought down the heel of his feet in a swift downward arc, but Orochimaru rolled backwards and then propelled himself away from Naruto.

With a rapid succession of hand seals Orochimaru conjured several huge earthen spikes from the ground. Naruto was left with no other choice but dodge lest he get skewered by the thick barbs. Unfortunately, it rendered him open for attack and Orochimaru rounded on him, smashing his elbow on Naruto's cheek and snapping his head to the side.

Orochimaru laughed, sharingan pupils wheeling furiously. "Come on, Naruto-kun, is that all you've got?"

Naruto allowed himself to fall on his back, fingers digging harshly to the ground.

"No," he grinned manically. "You've yet to see all of it."

His legs shot up and locked tightly around Orochimaru's neck. Not giving any room for retaliation, Naruto gave a sharp twist and slammed his opponent to the ground head-first.

Naruto panted, "Don't you dare underestimate me, asshole."

-----------------------------

In the end, it was just the two of them.

Naruto wiped his mouth over the back of his hand, saw the red smear left there, and it was beyond the abiding rush of fury that he came to the conclusion of what was Orochimaru's sole purpose in existence.

This creature had lived to inflict pain.

Orochimaru liked giving pain, and he certainly had no scruples about it. It was sick. He killed, he maimed, neither recognizing friend nor foe— all because of this insatiable thirst for power. That everything he did was tantamount to suffering and loss and, worst of all, that he didn't feel even a smidgen of remorse about it.

"I see how it is," Orochimaru whispered, voice hushed and almost intimate. "Now I know why Sasuke-kun respected—"

"Shut your mouth about Sasuke."

Naruto's voice cracked harshly that it almost hurt. He swung his fist and aimed it at Orochimaru's face, but inches before contact Orochimaru caught it, crushing the appendage with such force that left Naruto writhing in agony.

"Ah, so angry. So furious." Orochimaru chuckled. "But I wonder, is that for me? Or for Sasuke-kun?"

That hit the nail dead on.

"Shut— shut the fuck, you—!" With a ferocious battle-cry Naruto lunged at him, teeth bared. He managed to clip Orochimaru a good one on the shoulder, spinning him to the ground. Orochimaru immediately rounded on him and kicked his ribs sharply, sending him flying backwards until he crashed on a dilapidated wall.

Orochimaru's eyes were alight with malicious glee.

"You shouldn't get mad at Sasuke-kun for choosing me, Naruto-kun," he said. "It was a wise choice, after all. And I'll have you know that he didn't forget you. Quite far from it."

Orochimaru's smirk widened.

"In fact, if I remember correctly, his last wish was for me to deliver a message to you, Naruto-kun. A very special message. He wanted to say—" In this his sharingan eyes dropped to their normal jet-black and his pitch became solemn: the same familiar pitch of a voice that he hadn't heard for five years.

It was Sasuke's voice.

"—Naruto," he said. "I'm sorry."

Just like that. Naruto felt something inside of him come unhinged.

He thought of Iruka-sensei who almost died protecting his young students because Orochimaru's men couldn't come up with even a modicum of humanity to spare children from slaughter. He thought of Konoha, Suna, or even Oto. He thought of all the lives lost or ruined because of this menace— all the men, women and children who were unfortunate enough to cross paths with him.

Orochimaru didn't just like inflicting pain; he reveled in it.

"You fucker…" Naruto hissed. "You—"

He had never imagined it was possible to achieve the level of hatred that he was feeling right now.

And it was frightening because hate was extreme; hate was absolute. It was the kind of hatred that brought him to this one cool, detached place, a place where all he could think of was – if I'm going to die then I'm bringing him along with me.

"I watched people suffer because of you. I—" he got to his feel albeit unsteadily. Deep inside him, Kyuubi moved, the dust from the ground rising as his chakra flared outwards. The motes floated through the air and started swirling around him furiously. "I was there to see what your whims cost, bastard. Too much, you took away too much.

"And you're going to pay for it!"

Naruto cupped his hand in front of him, forming the Rasengan, the blue-white ball of energy growing in size as it was fueled by his anger. He saw his enemy's eyes widen, and in that brief moment of satisfaction he thought of the countless people who'd probably worn the same expression before they died in Orochimaru's hands.

The balls of his feet twisted as he made a mad rush for Orochimaru.

"I'll kill you!"

So many things happened then in a space of a few seconds. All the rage, the anger— it was suddenly gone. In its place came a staggering torrent of horror until Naruto felt absolutely focused. Everything came in sharp precision, nothing escaped his notice. Not the pink blur that had suddenly spurred into action, movements sluggish but intent, or the way Orochimaru's shock turned into delight as a lithe body came in front, frail arms hugging his neck tightly, all in all meant to shield him from harm.

With a short cry Naruto struggled to pull back his momentum, but the gesture came all too late.

The Rasengan hit Sakura instead.

Naruto reeled back, eyes impossibly wide. "Sa— Sakura-chan…?"

There was a soft mumble that escaped her lips, and for brief and wild second he thought she'd been calling out his name until he saw Orochimaru's horrified look. Orochimaru began to thrash and shriek, prying her away, but the locked arms held firm. The struggle didn't last long; soon the seals on Sakura's arms began to glow, and Orochimaru's screams became that of pain, his body convulsing and his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Then it stopped. Sakura's arms finally loosened around Orochimaru, and then they both collapsed with a sickening thud.

There was a deafening silence.

Naruto tried to reach for Sakura, but he felt so tired, so drained, and he barely even had the chance of moving before his legs wobbled and gave out on him. He slumped to the ground uselessly, devoting his remaining energy in craning his neck to see Sakura's face.

Something warm trailed down his cheeks and he belatedly realized that he'd been crying.

He had loved her. He had loved her so much, and there was something delirious inside of him now, frenzied and almost crazed. He really didn't believe in gods, not really, but he called upon every deity he could think of, made a compromise, swore everything, and just— please Sakura-chan, open your eyes. Look at me, please!

But there was no miracle. Sakura didn't open her eyes.

Darkness clouded his vision. Naruto kept his eyes fixed on Sakura's face; sought every detail, every contour. Committed it to memory that even when his eyelids finally drooped close she was all that he could see.

It was a small mercy that he fell unconscious the moment Sakura took her last breath.

-----------------------------

When Naruto woke up, he panicked. Strong hands splayed on his chest and tried to still him, but the action only urged him to struggle harder.

"Shhh, it's alright." A gentle voice tried to soothe him. It sounded familiar, safe, and he stopped fighting although his body remained painfully tense.

"W— where am I?" Naruto flinched slightly, his eyes watering as he was torn between opening them and then keeping them shut. However, after few minutes of struggling, he finally forced his eyes open.

He was instantly greeted with a blinding white light, which was then replaced with the hospital interior.

"Where do you think, you brat?" Tsunade said, her hands hovering on his chest. Warm, healing energy began to flow through his veins, coaxing his taut muscles to relax. "Just keep still, okay? You're safe now."

"How did I get here?" the words were thick with sleep and exhaustion.

Tsunade pursed her lips. "We'll discuss that later. You need to recuperate first."

For a moment he wondered if it all had just been a dream. That maybe he had just been trapped in some sort of genjutsu and was hallucinating the entire time. That maybe everything that had occurred was nothing more but a figment of his fevered dreams.

That maybe—

"Is she…" he croaked. "Is Sakura-chan…?"

It was amazing how one tight squeeze of a hand on his shoulder could answer so many things all at once.

"I guess, uh," Naruto tilted his head away, blinking furiously. He brought a hand to his eyes and was startled with the dampness that met his knuckles. "Is this the part where you're going to say 'I told you so'?"

"Naruto…"

"C'mon," he insisted. "Just say it. I'm a one, big fuck-up. And I—"

His voice cracked, a painfully distraught sound, and he valiantly tried to keep a tight rein over his emotions. He feared that if he broke down and cried right now then he would never be able to stop.

"I'm so sorry I fucked up," he was babbling but he couldn't stop. Not when there's this terrible ache inside his chest that threatened to burst out, and he would forever be grateful that Tsunade didn't spout platitudes like 'it's fine' and 'he'll be alright' because it was not fine and he will never be alright. "I'm sorry. You were right all along, damn it—"

"I failed her…"

-----------------------------

It was the faint prick of a needle that roused Naruto from his sleep. He'd lost track of time the moment he fell unconscious, and when he pried his eyes for a glimpse at the darkened skies outside the window he didn't have a clue whether he woke up at dawn or nightfall.

"I still can't believe it," said a feminine voice beside him. "Have you seen their wounds? Like, they've tried to beat each other to a bloody pulp! I was so shocked!"

"Shh!" scolded another voice off to a vague left. "You'll wake him up. Honestly."

Properly chastised, the voice to his side lowered considerably. "Sorry."

"Huh," continued to other voice. "Now that you mention it, their fight must have been pretty intense."

"I know. It's a good thing that Hokage-sama's around when they brought them here."

"But I wonder, why did Hokage-sama allow Uchiha—"

She was cut off as Naruto's eyes abruptly snapped open and he grabbed the nurse's arm in a vice-like grip.

"What the hell! Sasuke?" he rasped. "Sasuke's alive?"

"Yes. But please calm down Uzumaki-san—"

But Naruto was beyond listening. Their frantic efforts to appease him meant absolutely nothing, and despite his clouded senses all that he could think about was this had to be a very nasty joke, that he had intended to save Sakura but ended up killing her instead, and now Sasuke's still alive like some fucking consolation prize.

Anger couldn't even sum up to what he was feeling one bit. He was so livid that even the bed's railing snapped ominously when he finally stood.

"Shit," he hissed as the floor tilted to his feet. In the background he could hear the horrified shrieks as nurses scrambled for help, and he was well aware that he was revealing a side of himself that people didn't want to see and wouldn't understand, the side he'd kept hidden under the guise of bright smiles, and for once he didn't care.

"What's going on?" Tsunade demanded as she burst inside the room, and then faltered at the sight of him. "Naruto…?"

"Why didn't you tell me the bastard's alive?" he said through clenched teeth. "Oh god, oh hell, I can't believe this. Why the did you bring him here and, don't fucking touch me—"

He viciously shrugged the hands trying to hold him. Desperation lent him strength, and one careless swipe flung two male nurses aback before they crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Naruto, listen to me." Tsunade called out.

"No! Damn it," It took three jounin before he was properly restrained, and upon seeing the opportunity one available nurse immediately pumped him with sedatives. It was pretty strong stuff too, because not soon his limbs began to wobble like jelly and he was left with no other choice but to slump uselessly against the arms that held him.

"You have to calm down, Naruto." Tsunade said, voice strained. "I know you're hurt but you have to listen to me."

"I won't," he slurred. He felt himself being lifted back to his bed and he was too tired and too synthetically calm to struggle.

"Naruto…"

"I hate you," Naruto whispered. Amidst the drug-induced haze he felt a twinge of smug satisfaction when he saw the look on Tsunade's face, when he was certain she believed him. But that was irrelevant now, for his eyes wouldn't stay open and as he succumbed to another bout of restless sleep he knew without a doubt that things had made another dramatic turn for the worse.

-----------------------------

Author notes: Uh, I guess that's it for chapter one. And of course, I would like to make several things clear:

(1) This is not a Sakura-bashing fic. I quite like her in fact, and even though I killed her in the story, it's all for the sake of plot. Plot, plot, plot. As for those who were absolutely thrilled by this, then well and good for you.

(2) Fight scenes. I cannot write fight scenes to save my life so please forgive me if they came out a bit awkward. I did try my best, though.

(3) Orochimaru. Some are probably wondering how they managed to get rid of him quite easily. Well, I'll give out this much: he's not dead. What really happened to him is also part of the plot.

(4) SasuNaru. Yes, this is still a yaoi fanfiction. It will come in later parts because I like to deprave myself. Besides, the longing is sweeter than fulfillment, ne?

(5) Grammar. To the grammar Nazis who were unfortunate enough to come across this fic, I am terribly sorry. I know this is a not valid excuse, but English is not my mother tongue and yes, I don't have a beta reader. I have yet to come across anyone who's kind (and fluent) enough to beta for me, so for those who are interested please send me a message. I will forever worship the ground you walk on (cackles).