Chapter Text
She and Garra stood across from each other. Two children who didn't wish to fight. Two war vets with blood on their hands. Two children who were made into weapons by their village.
“Sakura. It's been so long since I've been given a proper fight.”
He said it like he pitied himself. He probably did. Garra so rarely experienced pain. The closest he had come to it was when she had put actual effort into their last fight.
It was before Sunagakure was allied with Konoha, Neji had been near, and she hadn't pulled any punches. She'd broken his nose and wrist.
He once told her he felt more than mortal. He felt above humans until her. He was 8 the first time he ever felt physical pain. She was 9, and she'd already been stabbed dozens of times, she'd had cuts and bruises and chakra exhaustion.
He'd never had so much as a paper cut, no scraped knees, no broken wrists from falling from a tree on accident, not even an injury from a training mishap.
His hands have had blood on them, but never his own. He's never had an injury worse than the ones she's given him. She knows this, he knows this, his siblings know this. Her boy's don't know this, they think he's just another child war vet who she's scared of. Another who she fought and bled with. Someone she respects.
She could throw the match, let Sasuke get down here, and have him do the same. But Garra would be furious, he'd have been denied 2 actual fights, and several kills while being here. That would enrage him beyond reason.
It would bring dishonor to their village and the Uchiha clan, and Sasuke would hate that he felt so weak. He would hate her just a bit for making him throw the match. So she has to beat Garra.
She's going to do something he will hate, something he will resent her for. Something that will make him more paranoid than ever. He just got out of the war, she just got out of the war, and she was about to plunge them both face first back into it.
“This fight's gonna look a bit different, Garra. I hope that doesn't anger you too much. I'm about to do something really underhanded to you.”
“I saw you in the war, I'm sure I can handle anything you throw at me.”
He was so sure of himself. She adored that confidence. He was practically invulnerable and she loved him all the more for it. He'd once asked her to show him what pain was, having never experienced it himself.
She'd refused at the time,they were at war, and there were better uses of her chakra than showing one boy what it felt to be human, to be helpless, to be hurt.
Genma called the match to start. Sand launched towards her, intent to strike first. It went through her water clone and dampened his sand, slowing it just a bit. Not that she needed his sand slower.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching so intently. They watched these children, these war veterans fight. They watched the children they forced into war as cold blooded killers become show ponies.
Her jutsu finished, and her memory pushed into his mind. It's 2 years before she met him. A year before she met Neji. She's laying on a cot in a medical tent. Her ribs are broken and her lung is punctured. She's been coughing up blood. A chunin messenger comes in. Her parents, her kind, loving, wonderfully brave parents are dead. Gone in a simple carrier mission to Kiri.
Now it's not just her on that cot. Garra is seeing himself there. His lungs are punctured, his mouth has been filling with blood. His parents are now dead too. He is inches from death and he is an orphan. He too falls asleep to the stench of death and a pain greater than his ribs thundering in his chest.
Garra's sand turned with the intent to attack again when it froze. Garra's knees buckled, he dropped to them. His hands flew to his chest. His breathing becomes labored. He'd asked her to teach him what it meant to hurt once. What it meant to be helpless.
Now he knows. He coughs, and grips his chest, and lets out a horrible sob. He looks to his left and sees a man he will heal a dozen times in the next several years. He looks to his right and sees a man who will die of infection before the night ends.
The match is called. She has won, and so she lets go of the genjutsu. She kneels a bit away from him. He will see her as soon as he raises his head. The Sunagakure section has gone deathly silent. Never before has anyone brought Garra to his knees.
No one knows what she did. She'd done it without hand signs, she'd done it silently. He was gaining as he panted on his hand and knees. He was a dear friend, and even if she'd had to beat him, she was not willing to lose a friend over this.
He raises his head and smiles. She smiles back. She has not lost a friend to this mess of an exam. She raises and walks over to him, she offers a hand up and he takes it, letting her yank them up.
“You finally taught me what it means to feel pain. Thank you Kura.”
“Don't get depressing on me, you wanted a good match. You're welcome. Go sit with your sibling. I have another fight to win.”