Chapter Text
The small village where she hails from, didn’t allow women to be anything other than a housewife. Sakura grew up watching women be submissive, bowing their heads, shrinking themselves into the kitchens, and cradles.
Why would she ever desire a life like that?
Being a housewife in this village just meant being a broodmare with a fancy title—with a few extra tasks, cleaning, taking care of four—if you're one of the lucky ones and nine kids.
And still being expected to make dinner and tend to your…husband’s needs, serve them and your sons. If you had daughters? They were right there next to you doing the same thing.
Learning is what the men liked to call it, teaching the next generation old traditions.
The woman, when they gathered for their quiet monthly tea gatherings, called it survival of the fittest woman.
Sakura listened, and observed.
Watching her mother slowly wither away, losing that bright look in her eyes, month after month of pregnancy. Along with every other woman above the age of 15.
Sakura could not do that with the rest of her life, even at her young age of seven she knew that was wrong.
Her mother was only pregnant with Sakura's third sibling.
And yet the woman looked close to dying on her feet. Like someone had propped up a puppet for a sick joke and called it her mother.
She already had two older brothers, ages nine and ten. Usually the men try to get their wives pregnant every year or two. But her mother had a hard time getting pregnant.
And when she was pregnant she had a hard time completing her daily tasks, so it fell to her only daughter.
Seven year old Sakura, cooking dinner and breakfast. Cleaning the house upside down, she washed clothes, she kept the house running while her brothers got to run wild and free of any real responsibility.
At least her mother was in her sixth month of pregnancy.
She would only have to continue doing this for three, maybe two months if she’s lucky.
Sakura didn’t have to wait until the end of her mothers pregnancy for it to stop.
Shinobi from an unknown village attacked in the dead of night.
No one speared, not her pregnant mother, or any of the other women. Not the little girls asleep on floors. Especially not the men and boys.
The only reason she survived was because she was out back rewashing clothes her mother had deemed too dirty.
How ironic that the one thing she hated doing most was the only reason for her survival.
Some of the houses burned till dawn. Sakura didn’t cry for her dead parents or brothers, or her little sibling. She stood in front of her house barefoot, and watched as smoke for the house next door clouded the sky.
She didn’t go to her parents room
She went straight to her brother's instead.
She stepped over broken wood and turned over furniture without a second glance.
She opened the chest at the foot of Nakia’s bed where the nine year old liked to store his practical clothing.
As Sakura rummaged through the chest, she pulled out an oversized long sleeve shirt that was a dark red with baggy dark gray shorts that fell just below her knees.
Then she looked in a black box Nakia had kept under his bed. That's where he put all his old shoes that didn’t fit anymore.
She pulled out an all black pair, the kind that looked like shinobi sandals just without the open toe part.
They weren’t a perfect fit, but they would have to do for the time being, until she found others.
Later while packing her bag with food to go, she found a kitchen knife beneath the fallen shelves.
It was dull, the edges were thin.
That didn’t matter, the young girl gathered her hair—thick and curly, that went past her shoulders in one hand.
And cut.
And cut.
Until the rest of her hair on her head resembled Uzoki hair style, he always preferred his to be long enough for bangs but just past his chin.
Pink strands of hair floated to the ground.
Sakura wasted no time in gathering them.
She stepped back outside with the uneven hair clutched tightly in her fist.
The oversized sleeves of Nakia’s shirt swallowed her hands as.
She knelt in the dirt. With her hands she dug a shallow hole into the earth, the dirt packed itself under her nails.
She pressed the pink strands of hair in the soil. Then she covered them.
She stayed sitting there for a moment, boys were treated as if they were valuable, while girls were seen as weak.
She would not be treated as a live-in-maid, she would live to be great.
She would be great.
She will be great.
__________
The forest had been quiet for some time, which was unusual. Something must have happened for even the animals to be quiet.
No birds chirping, no animals hunting for the winter.
Nothing.
Just painful silence.
A masked figure paused at the edge of the forest lined. Boots landing silently on a high branch. Watching as grey smoke slowly drifted up in thin gray ribbons.
Another shadow landed on a branch behind him, then two more.
No words were spoken, none were needed, just a glance to the squad leader.
“Move In” Hound sighed, using standard ANBU sign language.
The shadows vanished, the only thing left in their wake were drifting leaves.
_____
“Taichō” Raven called out over the radio, “I’ve found something”
The silver haired man appeared in an instant, holding a three pointed kuni in his dominant hand.
He expected to see an enemy or a dead body even. What he didn’t expect was to see a little boy with pink hair around the age of Naruto and Sasuke.
He could’ve been their playmate.
And yet he was here, in a ruined town, with oversized clothes. Kakashi could practically see the bones in his little legs.
Whether from neglect, or simply not finding enough food in the ruins of this town. He was tiny, fragile, small for his age.
Almost as if a gust of wind could knock him off his feet.
Kakashi took a careful step forward, his eyes scanning his surroundings like a predator watching prey.
The young boy didn’t flinch, he didn’t react at all. Similar to how Kakashi was at that age, the difference between them was that Kakashi found his father’s body hanging from the ceiling of his house.
..And he was training to be a shinobi, a glorified killer.
This child.. Kakashi ignored the thoughts swarming in his head.
He was on a mission, distractions weren’t allowed.
“Can you walk?” He asked.
Sakura nodded slowly. Her oversized shirt slipped off her shoulder.
She made no move to adjust it.
Kakashi studied him for a while, then he quietly asked. “What is your name?”
“…Kura—“ the boy’s voice cut off, it was rusty. He must’ve been thirsty.