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He saw her standing in the middle of forest green. Almost as if she wanted to hide herself in the flora, to become part of it, not really camouflaged but just...belong, there.
Her hair was as pretty as a flower too.
"Hello," he spoke, before his better senses and years of gruelling training (harsh rebukes) reminded him better, "You okay there?"
Usually, he never asked if anybody was okay. But, his heart had chosen the right words to express what it really felt (an irony, a twisted pain, considering he had to lose his feelings soon if he were to survive in Root under Danzo-sama's tutelage, how his heart suddenly kickstarted itself to grow; to learn and understand and adapt in one blinding whoosh), and Sai chose to repeat the words his brother (Shin, stepbrother, brother-by-bonds) often liked to use.
The girl had started, fell on her butt (and he nearly went forward; outstretched arm ready about to offer itself, to help her up, because it was his fault she fell and he wanted to help her so badly), and she looked up to him. For a moment, they both shared fear - her fear towards him (a stranger) had instilled a fear in him in turn (he didn't want to frighten her), and the emotions just kept passing between them, like two tossing a ball to each other to ricochet back and forth - until she was the one to break the silence. Stifling a laugh. Which sounded out of place, even to his own (knowledgeable, surely) ears.
"Why are you the one looking so scared?" she finally asked, and took his hand - oh, he'd offered - and he pulled her up. Feeling a lot less distressed that she was no longer on the floor like that...
"You okay?" he decided to ask once more, because more than he trying to explain what he couldn't possibly explain now (it was too complicated for him to decipher, much less put into words), he'd rather check if she is alright; and the girl blinked, looked confused, and tilted her head.
"I'm okay...I think. I mean, I'm not hurt because I fell," she said carefully. "But, maybe that's not what you were asking?"
Indeed...why did he ask her again?
"You were crying," he finally found the right words, eyes trained on her tear-streaked cheeks, the puffy red eyes. She smelled so sad too, he nearly believed the rain clouds had come over. If he had been sure of their ages and he were elder, he'd patted her head like his brother did for him.
"Oh..." the girl was downcast, as dark as rainclouds, and suddenly he wondered if he had a jutsu to capture the sun so he could present it to her; light up her world. "I don't know...I was terribly sad. But I feel much better after I cry out here alone." She took a deep breath. "And I think you helped today."
"I did?" he asked, perplexed, because he had not expected himself to be such an effect on her already.
"Yeah-uh!" the girl nearly piped, nodding so vigorously he was nodding back like a parrot imitating motion, and she beamed. "You were kind! So, thank you!"
Kind. He had never been called that. Lenient, maybe. Careless, probably. Soft, definitely (you need to train harder, be harder).
"Oh," his vocabulary and list of preferable responses ran out. "Um, okay. That's good."
She peered up to him, puffy eyes still wary but also curious. "I'm Sakura. Who are you?"
Wow! Even her name was a flower.
"That's pretty," he breathed before he realized what he'd just done. "I mean, I'm -" Who was he? He stuttered to a pause, blinking.
Who was he, really?
(Root was nobody. He was nobody. All working for the same cause. Replaceable, but each and every one of them a valuable asset in their own way until the day they died. Hence survival was vital for all of them, unless death became necessary.)
"I'm Kuro," he decided on a whim - because Kuro meant black and all of them, Root hailing from ANBU, belonged to the shadows and dark so it made sense; and the name was as close as it could to a dog's, nobody would scold him for putting a name on himself when it'd been explicitly forbidden (they had no name unless Danzo-sama gave them one; and even then, those who won his notice had names of rank and directions, never a personality or trait) if it was degratory to a mongrol's; that, and his current only set of colours back in his room to draw were all black ink - "Hi."
Well, that was lame.
But Sakura didn't think so.
"Hi, Kuro-kun!" she beamed, wiping her hands on her shirt before putting one out shyly, "Nice to meet you."
Nice to meet you. Meet him. It was - she found it nice to meet him. It...
It was terribly endearing. Terribly ecstatic.
He felt the heat of excitement go up to his face even before he could put a name on the emotion.
(Happiness. Elation. Excitement. Promises.)
"Nice to meet you, Sakura-san," he said. Taking that hand in his and performing the hand-shake he'd seen many people - usually on cooperative, 'friendly' terms - do.
The forest suddenly seemed a lot brighter and sharper and clearer ever since then.
“So,” he said slowly, “You’re not a flower?”
“No, dummy!” Sakura laughed. It sounded like bells or wind chimes. It suited her well. “I’m a human, just like you! I told you that last time, right?”
“I know, I remember, but,” he said, still unable to believe that she could be human. He’s seen human, both in and out of Root, but none of them were ever this - precious.
He found no words to properly describe that today.
(On a later day, in the future, he would have responded “You are too pretty.”)
They never talked about their lives, because he insisted; that he couldn’t share his home life because they were full of secrets, which Sakura took with grace. She seemed happy enough that he was around to stick with his rules - or requests, more like - and it made Kuro both grateful and fearful for her.
“Mama said my hair colour is like the sakura tree,” she piped, flopping onto the grass on her back, her hair flying out like sunbeams around here - which he appreciated - “That’s why my name’s Sakura.”
“Oh,” Kuro said - thought the better of it, and flopped onto his back too, mimicking her. “It's nice.”
The tall trees looked so faraway, even though he knew it wasn’t even difficult to scale - but the new perspective, of faraway branches rustling with endlessly green leaves and sometimes showing some sunlight and breathtakingly blue skies, made everything special today.
He felt so elated.
“Hey, Kuro-kun.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to practice shuriken?” she asked, emerald eyes crinkling into a smile as she looked right at him; the grass and small yellow flowers whose name nor existence he never once bothered before accentuating the specialness in their distance, this perspective. How she turning to her side to meet him, pink hair falling cutely around her, did wonders to him (like a mini supernova inside).
“Sure,” he said, deciding that learning a little bit of shinobi skills wasn’t going to get him into trouble if he didn’t let it show, “I’d like to.”
“Then you can borrow mine!” she cheered, leaping to sit up. He hurriedly followed suit, and she turned to him again, beaming so brightly it nearly blinded him.
“Meet here again, right?”
She never came everyday, even though he wanted to come everyday (not just because he wanted to meet her, but he wanted to be there if she was crying and needed help). Planning was never their forte.
“Yeah!” he said, smiling widely he felt his teeth show. “Promise!”
She taught him what a pinky swear was.
"I don't like it," Kuro said one day, upset, because she was upset. "Who did this to you?"
He'd learned, somehow. During their two handful of visits (of sneaking). That Sakura never cried because of...well, whatever they Root cried for (and she cried, like, seventy-percent of the time whenever he came here; not much these days, though)(but sometimes, when it was too bad, she’d lunged right for him once he set foot in - tackling him to the ground for a messy hug).
She wasn't crying about poor performances or physical pain and side-effects. She didn't seem like the type to cry over failed tests and scoldings either (or more like, Kuro's never heard her mention suffering classes before), so it was something else.
And though Kuro was unknowledgeable, he could distinctively tell she was crying because somebody purposely made her cry. Hurt her.
(He never felt so angry, so burning with quiet rage he almost felt invincible, unbeatable, though terribly vulnerable. Danzo-sama and many seniors had warned of uncontrolled emotions and especially negative ones, who drove any strong man to their downfall with their whims; Kuro knew he was in that state. But oh, he felt unbeatable, and he so wanted to punch whoever that did this to Sakura).
Sakura sniffled, rubbing her flowing eyes, her unstoppable snot. Tried to pause but failed, and instead got all the wrong bodily fluids in her face, her hair. Her hair that seemed to be hastily brought to her face as if to cover it up. Like straws on a scarecrow. Kuro frowned and parted those - but she shrieked.
"No!" she yelped, flying back and away as she clutched her front hair to her face, pinned it there with splattered palms, "I'm ugly! Leave it there!"
It shocked him. Shocked him so bad he'd been stunned, rooted there; staring at her dazzlingly pretty emerald eyes (he'd tried to replicate at least the colours, once, but numerous frustrating failures later had him thoroughly angry at himself for degrading its beauty with his piss-poor attempts that he stopped altogether; her beauty didn't need to be replicated by his hands, he just needed to go and see it, visit them, on his own) and he found the courage in him. A different kind of anger in him, and he shuffled forward,
"You're not ugly," he said firmly.
"Nuh-uh," she refused, shaking her head stubbornly, still crying. "I am! They all say it!"
"Who's they?"
"Everybody," she sniffled, "Back in class. Outside. They look at me funny."
Maybe they were looking at you because you were very cute, he thought. And realized that was probably the correct answer.
"I think you're very cute," he said out loud, not shy, and he really couldn't understand why she'd stare at him with eyes so wide they looked like they'd nearly fall off, "So the rest of the world is stupid to think you're ugly. And, I'm not 'everybody', so maybe you could be wrong here. I'm not everybody, and I think you're cute. Maybe there's a lot of people out there who think you're cute. Except the ones who said it."
And that was the core problem, wasn't it?
"Who are they?" he said, angrily, already getting up on his feet to search for them. "They're blind to think you're ugly."
"Wait!" she cried, lunging to grab him arm to stop him - but shot back, looking horrified at her hands and the snot or wetness she'd put on him.
Kuro blinked and looked down. Decided it wasn't anything to be so horrified of (cringe-worthy, yes, but not that much).
"It's alright," he said, wiping his arm on his shirt, "I don't mind. So, who told you?"
She shook her head. "Ami. Her friends...um, my classmates."
He tilted his head. "Are they pretty?"
Sakura's eyebrows pinched together. "I don't know."
Well. "I don't think they are," he loudly declared, feeling bold and brave whenever he was around her; whenever she was involved. "Pretty things don't harm others unless they're harmful. So even if they are, I think they're harmful. I don't like them."
Sakura stared. "You don't like them? But you haven't met them!"
Kuro looked at her puzzled. "They've made you cry. And didn't apologize. They've hurt you which I don't see the point in. They're clueless and pointless, mean and ugly. I don't think I'll ever like them.
"I like you, though," he finalized. Feeling so proud of himself that he'd given a full speech about emotions and insight, and they all felt - though terribly understated and poorly stated too, maybe, but - right.
Yet for an alarming reason, Sakura had gone entirely red in the face.
"Sakura-san?"
She squeaked - outright 'meep!'-ed - and leapt to her feet. Scrambling back. Hiding her face behind a lot more hair she'd suddenly decided to clutch to cover her face with.
"Hey!" he protested, but made no move to touch, because he felt it was probably a wrong move now (strange; just a few seconds ago, it was the right move). "Why'd you hide your face?"
Sakura was stammering, steam coming off her face, it made him more alarmed.
"D-d-d-d-do you mean," Sakura swallowed, still red in the face as she peeked from behind hoards of pink hair and funnily shiny wet eyes, "Does that mean you love me?"
"Love?" he asked, frowning. And saw her stilled too, and immediately know even from the shift in the atmosphere that he was suddenly walking on treacherous zones, a wrong move leading to an eternal failure (like a shinobi would, walking in the blind night and throw a kunai only to kill an ally or superior instead of the enemy).
But he didn't understand the term 'love'. It was something so very far and almost unspoken of - avoided and frowned upon, at times - in Root. He didn't know what it was.
Maybe this was something he had to learn. Just like all the sudden wisdom of emotions and feelings he'd learn with this friend he made here whenever he snuck out to visit. Until then, he would have to try to understand - but he couldn't possibly give her a fake answer, no matter how compelled the wrong parts of his being pushed him to.
He'd given Sakura nothing but honest feelings and thoughts till today. He was not going to do otherwise hereon.
"I don't know about love," he honestly admitted, putting a hand to his chin, "But I know I like you very much. Like, I like to come out and meet you whenever I can. I like the way you smile and laugh, and I don't like it when you're upset. I don't like whoever that's making you upset. I like it very much when you're happy."
He tilted his head. "Do I make sense?"
Sakura was staring at him oh so strangely. Still red in the face, maybe, but she'd let go most of her hair already and was staring at him. A mixture of whatever explosive emotions she had just now (something he wasn't familiar with; was this another thing he needed to learn to understand her?) with something else - something that felt like disbelief? Awe? Disappointment?
Suddenly Kuro was losing confidence in whatever bravado speech he'd gushed out just now.
"Oh," Sakura said, quietly, and Kuro found himself panicking at the lack of vibrance there (he'd expected, don't know...something brighter and louder; not so dejected like this). "Okay. I see. I mean, yeah. I know, I understand. I - I like your smile too. It’s bright and nice.”
“You do?” he parroted, blinking. He didn’t know he could smile. Nicely, that is (he’d never thought he was ever bright too).
“Yeah, like the sunshine,” she said, smiling - not knowing the flutter of excitement she made in his chest because she’d called him sunshine, when all he’d ever been was shadows and Root, and he had wanted to give her a sunshine too! - but why did she also look sad?
Sakura had her hands to her back, kicking the ground with her feet. Looking downcast.
Kuro didn’t know why she was suddenly cloudy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nah,” she smiled, shaking her head. “Well, I guess we're still kids. We don't really know what love is."
Kuro frowned harder. "But if we're shinobi, love isn't important, no?"
Sakura's head snapped up then, looking absolutely appalled - and Kuro found himself going into a panic until he suddenly heard a shrill call. His senior's summons, calling for him (he'd daringly made a deal with his senior - the only subtly rebellious and outgoing member of Root - who'd offered to lend Kuro his summons to help notify him if he needed to go back to Root before he got found out).
"I gotta go!!" he gasped, already running away. "Don't cry, Sakura-san! See you!!"
He only caught a glimpse of stupefied Sakura waving weakly at him. A pretty pink in the middle of beautiful green and sunlight.
"Love is important."
Kuro was stunned, and turned to Sakura, who was boring her eyes so intently into him he found himself fascinated; enamoured, unable to tear away. Just stared back. And she didn't seem angry, despite the frown on her face...this felt a lot like determination.
"Kuro-kun," she said, firmly, "Do you go to the Academy too?"
Kuro blinked. Shook his head. "No," he said carefully, "I'm home-tutoured." A good lie, and not really uncommon ie general. Some conservative traditionalists (ancient-minded individuals) were like that too.
She didn't seem to care.
"I don't know why your teacher told you that," she said, "But, as a shinobi of Konoha, you have to learn that love is important as a shinobi. As Konoha's shinobi."
Kuro stared. "Why?" Because, wasn't strength, loyalty, replaceability and devotion the most important aspects of being shinobi? A perfect tool the best, most valuable asset of the village?
(Because where would farmers be without their hoes, and shinobi without their kunais? Danzo-sama had once lamented; Where would a village be if it had no good shinobi in it? Tools to ensure the village's standing?)
Sakura smiled then; a sort of smile that made Kuro remember uneasiness. Like she was about to tease him like the many old women in streets did to whoever deserved their wrath (affection), or knew of a secret he didn't as was relishing in that superiority (he nearly wanted to scoot away).
"You're not reading enough, Kuro-kun!" she giggled, "If you're shinobi of Konoha, you have to know the Will of Fire!"
"Will of Fire?" Kuro asked, blinking. He heard of that.
Sakura nodded. "It's your homework! Will of Fire! Ask your teacher; if he doesn't know, he's a failure! Sandaime-sama will scold him for neglecting his duties!"
Oh, wow, if Sandaime Hokage could scold somebody for it, maybe Kuro had to learn of it immediately so he could save Danzo-sama and the others face if such preposterous situations arose.
(Why didn't Danzo-sama tell them about it if it was important to Konoha? They were root, perfect tools hidden from the general public to ensure they performed their best, unhindered by contamination; but still, if they were shinobi from Konoha, Kuro felt they at least should be knowing of this one rule too.)
"Okay," he agreed, nodding, "I'll look it up. Ask my teacher."
He doubted anybody in Root would answer him that, however.
Which meant that the next time they convened, he was still as clueless as he had left.
"Where do I look though?” he asked, almost ashamed and shy, as he threw a shuriken at their self-made target practice dot; near pouting. “My teacher didn’t know." A lie. He never asked anyone (lest it risked suspicion, because where in Root could he have heard of it?).
Sakura blinked.
"Oooh, we can go next time!" she squealed, leaping to her feet from her resting spot and yanking Kuroby the hands; spinning them around and around in her burst of joy that Kuro nearly tripped over his own feet just to keep up (he wasn't that untrained; but her giddiness did magic to him and his feet fought between just standing rooted there to stare at her and actually following her dance).
"We can go next time, Kuro-kun! I'll take you there! It's in the cemetery, which's scary, I know, but Shodaime-sama made it and Sandaime-sama said he's there, watching over us! And! And! We can visit the stalls while we do! I'll show you the anmitsu shop I love, and the bookstore that has a lot of ink! Mama might love to meet you - ohhh, but papa might not. Err, maybe we'll see them wayyyy next time."
Kuro found himself grinning too, his face splitting into a smile so wide he was sure his jaw would have fallen off already (and his cheeks hurt too).
"Okay," he said, nodding as she swung their hands side-to-side like a dangerous rope bridge happily, "I'll go. We'll go there next time. Meet up here?" Because they’d already spent a good deal of time here today.
Sakura nodded vigorously. "Here! As usual!"
As usual. A secret meetup place. A secret he'd started ever since he tried stealth skills and stumbled upon this vibrant pink flower in the middle of this forest. A secret between the both of them - where Sakura could hide from whoever made her sad and Kuro from Root.
His senpai's summonings cried again (he was terribly interested in getting a summons of his own too), so he'd left too, waving widely at Sakura who was waving madly back. Face so bright and vibrant, it was almost blinding. Dazzling, with the dew that shone all over the forest leaves and grasses. He grinned, loved the scene so much, and left with light-footed steps.
He should have looked at her more if he knew this was the last time they'd meet.
(He shouldn't have - in his hasty desperation to keep Sakura safe from Danzo-sama and his truly loyal shinobi's dangers - burned his own memories away. Not literally or really; but he'd forcefully shoved the memories down and away, hidden it under a lot of self-made stories of being in his own room and talking with Shin, let it fester a lot of mental mold and dark memories like soil so much so the Yamanaka in Root would never be able to dig it out.
(He had perfected altering his memories so much that he'd forgotten all about Sakura and pretty trees and green and pink.)
He had a name. Kuro. Apparently. One he'd put for himself. It seemed. But no longer needed, for it had melted with the shadows he now receded in most of the times, the days; his name no longer needing tangibility since dissolving into the shadows was much more safer, more advantageous, much better, than being a solid object of foreignness. His form, too, melted along with it.
He found no peace in flowers or colours; they were too bright for his tastes, and almost meaningless save for their purpose in telling something was wrong. Like how foreshadows spelt the descending of an ambushing enemy. Or the pale-coloured complexion and purple lips told of poisoning. How the earth-coloured skin told the time of death of a person. How the softest shades of plants told him of the weather and the flora's general health.
Sometimes, he twirled his brush. Wanting to paint colours - but always came up blank. Paid attention to the impulse, but after actually taking it up, delved into the conclusion that there really wasn't anything worth he wanted to do in painting colours.
He'd put his brush down. Mildly...affected.
He’d come across a few clan kids. None of them were from the main branches, just of the same clan. Mediocres, Danzo-sama had called. But there were many talent even in those who weren’t from the main branches, and Root was always warm to those who held such talents.
(He was apparently talented too, hence Danzo-sama taking custody of him, even though he was clanless.)
He watched the kids run past, shrieking and screaming as they ran home, having just accomplished a rather tiring (but invigorating) mission.
He decided that he probably didn’t want to have anything to do with kids like that.
(They were boisterous, loud, blinding and an eye-sore.)
He visited the Will of Fire. For some reason, when he heard a ghost of a whisper of that name in the air, he’d been compelled to visit it.
Love. Love was the key to peace. Such was the first beginnings of their village which soon transformed into perceiving the entire village as a whole big family, and that they, with hearts of fire, would strive to protect and cherish it.
Okay. He understood the…theory of that process of thought.
He wasn’t sure if he had that fire in him though.
(Not when they were Root and ANBU, where fire would probably burn them to crisp and light them up like beacons in the night, all advantages for the enemy and not for them.)
He played with the side of his mask. Traced its metal frame.
He only wished his brother had a grave in the cemetery too. Then it would have made his trip to this place a little more worthwhile.
Sai. His name was Sai. Ironic, that Danzo-sama would name him as 'colours', when all he'd ever drawn in his life was black ink. Maybe Danzo-sama hoped he'd be an artist just with one colour, the only colour; made that seem to be the norm and only true way, like how the extremists of the Kanou-ha had done once.
Of course, when it came to being shinobi and a weapon first and foremost, colours hardly helped in efficiency and prowess.
(Once, there were ideas whispered among the younger intakes of drawing and colouring realistically, to fool the general population with his drawings that would look so real - he had thought of it, once, but reaching such leves required a lot of devition and passion, and Sai found he had neither in abundance; Danzo-sama never granted him more time if an activity didn't seem to directly contribute to achievements, or if the produce didn't compensate the digilience poured into it -of cost-inefficiencies - and Sai never found himself driven to actually perfectly mimic real objects in life to be able to fool others. Nothing in reality stirred that much up in him. Everything had stopped especially since he'd near-completed his story book about him and Shin. And even then, he couldn't think of a conclusion. Found he had nothing in mind that made him satisfied.
(It felt a lot like searching among himself for emotions and words he couldn't possibly know to fill the voids.)
When he saw the pink hair, he thought it was gaudy.
The girl's eyes too were noisy green too, an ugly distraction that did nothing to appease eye-aches to whomever that looked at her.
(He couldn't understand how anybody stood her eyes. He called her ‘ugly’ for various reasons.)
The boy was a lot more vocally boisterous - his hair colour also an eye-ache and his blue eyes a frustrating mix between sea blue and sky blue.
Sai wanted nothing to do with them.
(Kakashi was a lot more tolerable. His washed out grey and simple-black irises and 75% covered face was a relief to the bombardment of colours in their team. But alas, it was Kinoe - or Tenzo - or rather Yamato, who had been appointed their jounin, and while his simple bark-brown hair and plate-like black eyes were also simple, Sai was not completely immune to the haunting look his superior could conjure.)
But, overtime, he'd come to learn.
Like a mole exposed to the world under the sun, above the grounds, he got used to their insulting colours and ear-splitting noises. Got used to their puerile hostilities and eventual thawing. Unlearned a rule he'd force himself to follow (he was loyal, but there was the mismatching loathing towards Danzo too - for being the one to stage his and his brother's eventual showdown, had Shin not died by a disease first)(and what else was there that made him easily dismiss Danzo so smoothly it was a little stunning?). Trying to re-learn the world through general concepts and thoughts. Emotions had never been his feat, and apparently, even with the help of books, he was a terrible disaster at it.
(He wasn't knowledgeable. But for some reason, he felt fake in ways never before it sometimes made him feel disgusted.)
Naruto and Sakura had long accepted him by then. Enough for Naruto to yank him towards Ichiraku, and for Sakura to say hello to him in the stores and, if she were feeling a little more interactive, boldly ask him to help her carry stuff back to wherever she needed it.
Yamato-taichou had long accepted him - almost expected him to be, like this; like he knew Sai would change, would become exactly how he'd hoped, like he knew rather than expected this was fate (and of course, Sai was not forgetting how Kinoe had once been Danzo's tools too) - and Kakashi no doubt accepted him. The rest of Naruto and Sakura's circle of tightly-knitted friends came to accept him too - though mindful of his 'weirdness', they'd dubbed his oddities as - and Sai only ever felt a little relieved when he'd did the correct thing by calling Ino a beauty like how Sakura adviced him once.
(To call people with nicknames the opposite of what he'd first think of.)
He never understood their loyalty, their devotion.
"I only wish," he suddenly said one night, "That all your hard work will be paid off one day. That Sasuke would at least treat you better, even if he never came back."
Naruto was snoring behind them, and she would too soon (so he, who'd been assigned the first watch, couldn't help but blurt so) . She was openly stunned, and he couldn't blame her - because for once, he had not uttered words from a script or poorly written book (or so Shikamaru lamented noisily the last time he showed him) - so he just continued on. While he was still attuned to his emotions (a rarity, in the full decade he's been aware of it).
"Even if he came back, but was still a blood-thirsty criminal, I doubt that'd be call a success."
She deflated, finally seeing reason - an understandable train of thought - in his words.
"He doesn't really have to treat me better," she smiled, humming. Eyes distances away as she probably thought about the boy (and Sai couldn't understand how a fool could dismiss her deep love like that - it was the biggest weapon, if not just a blessing, to own somebody's unending and unfaltering, strong love like that; stronger than any of them working in Root, much more honourable than any shinobi working for their village). "As long as he's...happy. Then I'm happy. If he's liberated from sadness."
Sai honestly did not understand where such leniency, such selflessness, could stem from a person.
But then again, considering how most shinobi - and them Root especially - threw their lives away for the village, for their comrades and loved ones (depending on the person), he supposed, in that context, Sasuke was Sakura's everything. He didn't understand the feeling of strong 'disapprovement' in him when he thought of that.
Then things got a little out of control, with the siege on Konoha, the rise and fall of Danzo - and most importantly, the assassination mission on Sasuke.
Sasuke, whom Sakura cried and broke - not just broke-broke, but shattered in a million ways and yet never being able to fully recover and yet have to shatter it again kine of broke, because she loved Sasuke - her heart over. Sasuke, whom Naruto hurted over. It made...it made a part of Sai mad. Made him mad enough to stop the stupid Kumo bitch from punching Naruto so unfairly, so brutally (she'd gone too far).
Maybe, had the bitch's teammate not jumped in, Sai might have lost his temper and challenged her to a deathly match himself. He was that protective of Naruto, his teammate. A sort of family.
(Strange. The fury - though astounding - was not foreign at all. Almost like he'd experienced it a few times over, but Sai had no memory of such.)
He was a mess, even, when Sakura seemed to hurt her heart (and Naruto's) over and again, over Sasuke, a brat Sai knew nothing of except being the last survivor of Danzo's object of obsession, the Uchiha clan; who had been a defect and eventual lunatic, who was now a threat to the rest of the world with his vengeance for his family festering in him.
Sai understood he had no place to say anything - because this was a bond between the three of them, a family sort of bond he had no right to try to break or denounce - but he had a right to point out their wrongdoings and misgivings. If his face had twisted in a foreshadow of rage back there with Naruto, his face was now twisting with battling reluctant and unidentifiable pain against Sakura; he never wanted to make her cry, but he couldn't stand seeing her so so wrong in her perceptions, her judgements, her choices. To forcefully feed herself a lie and try to lie so hard just to make things, well, right.
It was wrong.
(Nobody had to know it was because, for the briefest moments, Sai had seen the similarity in her of him. How he had, unknowingly, forced himself to believe - and successfully made himself truly so - that he was an emotionless puppet with no great memory to hold on to. Naruto had proven him elsewise and they all had helped make him understand - it was impossible to kill an affection unless you've really lost the affection yourself. He needed Sakura to understand that - not make the same mistake he did. The same cruelty he had to suffer. An ordeal he had to pertain to. He wanted her to be truthful to herself, without having to lie.)
He didn't understand why her well-being mattered so much to him.
Then, of course, he very abruptly and suddenly realized why. In the darndest timings of all.
(And he CURSED himself for forgetting for so long - even though he was damn proud of himself for having hid it so well for so long - he SCOLDED himself for not waking up sooner, but more than that, he was so ecstatic he remembered. That he ever woke up. And, first and foremost, he was mad at the bastards who'd made her upset.)
She was crying. Again. Not the ugly tears and snot like she did when she had been a kid - but he knew, deep in her heart, despite all bravado, she was crying. Hurting. Hurting.
There was a reason why he kept asking her about Sasuke. And it wasn’t because, well, it wasn’t out of jealousy, even if poorly written love stories would love to dub it so.
It was because he cared for her well-being that he'd ever looked out for her in the first place.
So of course he'd jump right in front of her when the world was tormented by Madara, Zetsu, the rest of nefarious enemies and plots.
"I don't like it when you're upset," he said to her, behind his back; firmly, confidently, sure of himself like he hadn't felt in years. In the middle of sandstorms and flying dust and debris and the roars of allies and enemies alike. "But I really like it when you smile."
It was flattering, of course, when the first words she shrieked in response to his revelations were: “Do you think this is a situation to be smiling about!?”
Because it meant he’d successfully wrenched her mind and heart off the pain, even for a moment. Alleviate her a bit of her hurt.
He laughed then. Smiled. Felt so at ease in years he hadn’t felt. Probably a decade too. He was at peace; he probably had a reason to smile.
(And if he could be that sun, no matter how short-lived and pale it was, in comparison to the real sun - he hoped Naruto was like that to Sakura - he would give it to her; like he’d always wanted to on the first day he met her.)
"Don't cry, Sakura-san."
He wiped her not-wet-yet cheek with a calloused thumb (wow, she wasn't squishy anymore, and neither was he). Pulled her to her feet. Pushed her away. Gently.
"Go. Everybody needs you. We still have a war to fight."
Sakura was utterly shocked, dumbstruck. Maybe just struck, even.
Sai knew he was at fault - and, though he knew it wasn’t a good thing to start making promises when they’d just witnessed one of their friends die in war (a lot of comrades, a lot of old colleagues, half-brothers from Root) - he knew he needed to make sure she was okay.
“I’ll be here,” he promised, smiling. Chose that moment to risk keeping his brushes and drop his scrolls, took her hands in his and did that happy dance she - they - did all those years ago at the prospect of visiting the Will of Fire.Thought the better of it, before intertwining their pinkies - a pinky swear - together (startling her). “I'll be waiting right here. You go - you go and save Naruto and Sasuke. Your teammates.”
He was damn happy she'd finally found so many friends too, even if they were all unfairly and unnecessarily hard-earned.
(She didn't have to work so hard to get friends - even if her hard work had, however, helped her earn more than that: Respect. And strength. Yes, he was happy for her. He couldn't wait to meet her again.
(Like hell he was letting any one of her friends die anymore - especially himself - and make her cry again.)
He'd changed so much. So different from who he used to be, before Root's teachings truly took over; he probably had a black, short ponytail, maybe a mole under his eye too (one that Danzo had ordered to remove, and Sai had no problem removing - for even if they were still memorable by everything else, anything that had the risk of leaving too much impressions was unwanted) - but it was probably his smile, the twinkle in his own eyes, that had changed a lot. Had been lost - no wonder Sakura-san couldn't recognize him.
If he had to compare his current self - the short-haired, unhealthily pale-skinned (no thanks to years of no sunlight), dull-eyed, almost silent social disaster - to his past self - a small boy with a ponytail, not so unhealthily pale-skinned, mole-under-an-eye, vibrant and easygoing-laughter-accompanied boy who was eager to be friends with you - he wouldn't be able to recognize himself either.
He was told memories of children tend to be blurred at best, too.
(And even worse was that heartbreaking memories tended to be buried deeper, desperately forgotten by the beholder.)
He never blamed Sakura for not recognizing him. He was glad, even, that she never recognized him at all, while he had been a total disaster and a complete asshole. So, yeah, actually, he was glad for whatever that transpired between them.
But she'd grown too. Into a legend, a proud strong woman - not quite the girl he'd found back in the forest, small and helplessly tiny (baby fat, like he probably had been) and gullible, but sweet and radiant and lovable; not quite, but that was good, because it meant nobody would pick a fight with her anymore and she was strong-hearted enough to not cry anymore.
Or, well, only really alarming enemies and boys who'd earn the softest parts of her being (he trust) were still capable of hurting her.
And Sai would easily take those over, no matter how comparatively insignificant his strength was with hers.
For even the greatests shinobi needed guards to cover the smallest but surest vulnerabilities of their huge invincibility; Sai would protect the girl he loved who'd grown into the woman he now respected and still loved.
He just wished he hadn’t looked into the eye of that stupid huge moon though.
He had a duty to carry out. Sure, he wanted to run to her - he was a free man now, not needing to run back home in fear of Danzo finding out, he could literally do whatever he wanted, even skipping a few chances of responsibility - but he stood his ground. Chose to run the massive reconvening operation, aided those in herding their shinobi forces to safety, treat the wounded and purified the dead. Ignored the pain like he usually did, ran over the aching agony and muscle cramps after being captivated for so long, in favour of being productite. Sealed the running dead and reported on findings and, well, basically everything that had happened.
He did what he knew and hoped would alleviate her burden.
“Kuro-kun?”
He spun around. Nearly fell back with the sudden force, and stared. All thoughts of helping the debris removing team behind him forgotten in a whoosh.
Sakura stood there, in all the glory of her bruised, battered, torn self (she’d lost one of her sleeves and her flak jacket, she’d lost her hitai-ate as well, she was so dusty and beaten up - but her eyes. The shine in her eyes stood out so prevalently in her messy state, a ray of light from the clouds).
“Sakura-san -”
He never got to finish. Not when she had suddenly collided into him, closing their distance of at least ten meters with a shunshin - that felt like a millions yards apart - and bodily slammed into him.
He crashed backwards, knocked the back of his head rather riskily onto the ground, got squashed terribly - but that was the least of his concerns, with her here, in his arms.
It was her, his pink flower.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped while his world tried to stop itself from spinning dangerously; clinging onto her, clutching her tightly. “I never got to keep our promise. We couldn’t go to the Will of Fire together.”
A sob.
“Oh no, no no no. Don’t cry, please,” he panicked; tried to get up but failed, so he cradled her close, rocking her, doing anything to stop her tears (he didn’t like her crying). “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.”
“You dummy!” she hissed in his flak jacket, her knuckles turning white as she clutches so tightly (and he could hear the fabric tearing in her grip) and she snapped her head up, eyes flaring so brightly, so shiningly bright, it was ridiculous but beautiful (it was her, it was her, and she wasn’t clouded by hurt anymore). “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A million representations in that one, single question.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” he blurted - how strangely refreshing it was, that suddenly, he was capable of speaking, of words, of whatever he wanted to say coming out in a smooth flow and he had no second doubts or hesitation as he spoke - “I didn’t - I wasn’t caught, but training back at my place became real, and I had to stay away. I couldn’t risk you getting caught, I couldn’t risk Danzo finding out about you. I’m sorry.”
“Not that,” she whispered, shaking her head so hard it made her pretty pink hair float in the air; it was eye-catching. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Kuro-kun??”
Sai blinked. “I didn’t remember,” he confessed, “I didn’t - it wasn’t on - I mean, it was on purpose.”
She got up; pulled him up too, and he followed. Sat in front of her as she to he, and she just kept looking up at him with her emerald eyes, searching, waiting, patient, his hands in hers so he squeezed them, reassuringly (anchoring himself; living the miraculous moment).
“Our training started. We had to learn to not feel a thing - the first thing was to feel nothing about the memories we already had. And usually, there’s at least one supervisor for that.” He pursed his lips. “I didn’t want any mind-reader or Yamanaka to prod my mind and find out about you - about us, our secret - so I had to hide you. Bury you deep under my mind, under all the darkness, so nobody would think of prodding me there. I was scared they’d find out. I couldn’t bear to lose you, more than just having my memories being taken away. I hid you - that’s why I couldn’t remember.”
“Until today,” Sakura whooshed, wide eyes shimmering but taking him in all, like she was finally seeing him for the first time (she probably was; trying to look for Kuro in there). “Why did you remember?”
He blinked. “My brother,” he eventually recalled, voice suddenly hoarse, “He helped me.”
Because his stellar rage at the treatment of his reanimated brother had literally made Sai break all the bars and years-long efforts of mind-training to smithereens. That, in the aftershock of such events - or maybe in extension to such effects - his brain had also suddenly upturned itself and unearthed memories of Sakura together.
His precious memories.
(Shin had always, always helped Sai. Always saved him. From their handful of conversations and encouragement on his art during the years before he met Sakura, to the alibi in his self-made memories, their pairing-up in Root as sworn opponents and his timely death to illness later on. Shin had always been saving Sai. Now even in this.)
Understanding flashed in Sakura’s eyes - understanding attained through when he was Sai, the truth of the boy that he was now - and she reached forward. Hugging him. He hugged her back. Appreciating it. Needing it.
“Thank you,” he murmured, mindful of the brittleness of his voice box, “I needed it.”
“Was your brother the one who lent you his summons to call you back home?” she hummed back.
He shook his head. “No, that’s another one. He should be around though…I hope he’s alive.”
Sakura nodded and released him. He let her go. Feeling much better.
He had a hard time focusing as he got enamoured with her pretty eyes though.
“May I?” she asked, reaching up.
“Of course,” he answered automatically. Had always been trusting towards Sakura, when they were kids. Closing his eyes when her hands came near his face (never finding a point in having to watch her work unless it was genuine interest).
Her hands trailed his face, his cheeks. She pushed his longer side-bangs, pinned his fringe upwards - that prompted him to open his eyes, and he saw her searching, eyes scanning everywhere about his face. It finally landed on a spot just under his left eye, and she gasped.
“Your mole,” she breathed, “What happened to it?”
Sai laughed dryly. “Danzo,” he answered, “Or, well, protocol, actually. We were supposed to change ourselves a bit as we grew older. Get rid of parts that were easy to recognize or remember. My mole was one of them.” Then he added, as an afterthought: “Thank goodness I’ve learnt not to smile by then. He would have made me wear a mask like Kakashi. Or did something to my teeth.”
“Like staining it?” Sakura rolled her eyes. “If he ever did, I have a serious talk with that old fucker for forcing bodily changes and going against health standards just to attain whatever he wanted.”
She pulled him to his feet this time. He easily followed her.
A pink flower, standing strongly in the middle of battle-worn, desolate lands. So strong and respectfully beautiful - but Sai, no, Kuro, was eager to get her back in the forest. Bring her back so she’d thrive and shine, like all their times together.
She was still looking right into him, with softened eyes, and he was looking right into her too - he was too busy staring into her eyes to even try to glimpse his reflection in her eyes.
They stood there for a while, hand in hand, almost frozen in time with the way they were still; catching up on lost touches.
“HEY!!!!” Naruto yelled at the top of his voice - giving Sai a heart attack - with Sasuke and Kakashi on either side of them. Looking rather perplexed, if not utterly confused. “What’s going on there!?!?”
Sakura looked downright murderous as she glared back at Naruto, her features nearly turning into that of the ‘hannya’ - and yeah, it was a million times better than her crying, but still, Sai, Kuro, preferred her smiling.
“We didn’t get to pinky swear the last time,” he said aloud, catching her finger in his. “Meet you later?”
They still had debris to clean and bodies to identify or search. She had survivors to heal and he had comrades to find.
She’d spun around, staring at him. Her face clouded.
“Tonight.” She squeezed his little finger with her own, face grim. Almost pleading. “Come and find me.” Then she blinked. “Or I’ll find you?”
That was easy.
“I’ll find you,” he said, easily grinning once more, “Like old days. As usual.” Like how he always did, how he first did, in that forest.
Sakura - the little girl he knew, his secret friend, who’d been hidden for so long behind clouded green - beamied right back at him.
“As usual.”
"My first crush - my secret crush - was you. Did you know that?"
Stunned, he turned to the girl who was up under his arm, who'd given him a shy (and whoa, that was funny; seeing both the girl he'd loved back they were helpless tiny things themselves and the lady he'd come to be teammates with merge into one single person) glance, and Sai had a hard time finding his tongue that the cat had probably gotten again before he stole it back to say: "I didn't."
Sakura snorted. Clonked her head on his shoulder once more. As if she was annoyed. But declaring she wouldn't be leaving him just yet. "Well, now you do."
A mixture of the girl he knew and the girl he was teammates with; softly lit up by the moonlight, the scabs and scars from the fight doing nothing to dim her prettiness.
(Proof of all she'd withstood, her strengths, her victory. Nothing compared to the ones he had, even though they were - sadly - evenly injured.)
Sai thought for a while - really, really thought hard; digging up ages-old memories and squashed understandings from the tar-like soil in his brain and wrenched their bones out, scrutinizing them because he needed it now, and nobody was there to stop him or steal these away anymore - before he finally, slowly, but confidently and surely, face beginning to split into a smile, said:
"Well, did you know - that when I first saw you in the forest, it was love at first sight?"