Chapter Text
Chapter 1 : Revival
The sun had almost set by the time Sakura and Chiyo emerged victorious from their grueling battle with Sasori.
The air was thick with dust and blood, metallic and dry, clinging to her lungs like a second skin. The sky stretched wide and heavy above them, painted in brilliant oranges and soft pinks, as if the world itself was exhaling after a long, brutal breath.
They had managed to retrieve the antidote for the poison that had been planted in Kankuro's body, and they had also managed to defeat Sasori.
Sasori of the Red Sand. A legend. A prodigy. A ghost in his own body.
He had turned himself into a puppet to stop feeling anything. No pain. No fear. No hesitation. He hadn’t even flinched when she shattered his core—just stared at her, expressionless, as if none of it mattered.
All that power. All that brilliance. And in the end, he died like anyone else.
A cautionary tale disguised as a genius, she thought bitterly. Emotionally repressed war criminal with a poison complex and zero social skills.
But their victory tasted like ash. Because just moments ago, Chiyo had done something Sakura would never forget.
The One’s Own Life Reincarnation Jutsu.
She’d never seen it before, but she knew the signs—drained chakra, the unnatural stillness, the light leaving the eyes not from injury, but by design. It had to be a forbidden technique, forbidden for good reason.
Chiyo had offered her own life in exchange for the Kazekage's. Not everyone around them had realized it yet.
But Sakura knew.
She knelt beside Chiyo’s body, brushing the elder’s hand aside to check her pulse even though the silence around them had already told her everything. No chakra. No warmth. Just empty skin. Her body light, her purpose fulfilled.
The sky had darkened into a deep purple haze, and a breeze moved through the trees, rustling sand and dust like it carried the aftermath of the battle with it.
Naruto and Temari were completely out of it, consumed by worry for the Kazekage.
Naruto was pacing in tight, agitated circles near his friend’s body, muttering to himself under his breath. Temari knelt on the other side, gripping the Kazekage’s hand with both of hers, shoulders shaking silently.
Her eyes were wide, rimmed with red, but her expression held no softness—only raw disbelief.
Team Guy and Kakashi stood nearby, quiet now, and the Suna shinobi Temari had arrived with lingered in the edges of the clearing, all of them looking serious, grim. Every face was etched with the tension of grief barely held back.
Watching Temari and Naruto’s fear made Sakura’s own chest tighten. Her hands were still stained from the fight, and the memory of what Chiyo had done refused to fade.
Then—something shifted.
It started with a tingle at the edge of her senses, a subtle build-up in the air.
Sakura’s head snapped toward the Kazekage’s still form. The space around him shimmered faintly, as though the light itself had changed. She felt a charge pass through her skin—like static before a lightning strike—and then she saw it:
A glow, soft and unnatural, blooming from beneath his skin.
Sakura inhaled sharply as the air crackled around them. It wasn’t just chakra—it was life. Something was pouring into him, fierce and deliberate.
A current that didn’t belong to the Kazekage himself. She didn’t need confirmation. She knew.
Lady Chiyo.
She had given everything. Not just to defeat her grandson—but to bring the Kazekage back.
Gratitude swelled in Sakura’s throat, followed quickly by a sharp sting behind her eyes. She blinked it away and held Chiyo’s body a little closer.
Then, a movement.
Seafoam green eyes fluttered open.
Sakura froze.
The Kazekage blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused at first—then steady, sharp. His breath was shallow but even, and he sat up without urgency, like someone returning from a place far too quiet to rush back from.
The wind died with him, as if nature itself had been holding its breath.
Naruto reached him first.
“Gaara! You’re alive!” he shouted, dropping to his knees, hands on the Kazekage’s shoulders.
Temari’s composure cracked. She let out a sob and threw her arms around her brother, trembling with the relief she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. “Thank goodness… thank goodness you’re okay…”
Around them, chaos bloomed. Cheers rose from the usually stuck up Suna shinobi, men and women openly weeping, some falling to their knees, others crying out his title like a prayer.
“The Kazekage-sama lives!”
“It’s a miracle!”
“Our Kazekage!”
Sakura barely registered them. She watched him.
The man who had returned from the dead.
The Kazekage was still. His expression didn’t change, not even in the face of Naruto’s exuberant shouting or Temari’s tears. His eyes, cold and pale, passed over them all like a blade scanning the battlefield. There was no warmth in them. Just calculation. Quiet understanding. And something deeper—buried. Locked away behind years of instinct and control.
He did not return Naruto’s embrace.
He tolerated it.
After all he and Naruto had a deep bond.
And when it ended, he didn’t reach for anyone.
Instead, he sat back, eyes lowered to his hands, as if seeing them for the first time. The silence around him settled again.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.“Where am I?”
Temari, still brushing tears from her cheeks, gave a soft smile. “You were abducted by Akatsuki and they extracted Shukaku from you…” she said. “But you’re safe now.”
The Kazekage said nothing.
His gaze swept the clearing—lingering on the scattered shinobi, the stunned expressions, the cheers that had begun to die down.
His expression didn’t shift. He took in the devastation like a report being filed. Then his eyes narrowed, a barely-there furrow in his nonexistent brows.
His voice was low—sandpaper-soft. “How am I alive?”
The question stilled everything.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Sakura inhaled—too loud.
All eyes shifted to her.
Including his.
For the first time, the Kazekage’s gaze found hers.
It was like being dropped into cold water.
Had she ever spoken to him before? Sakura honestly couldn’t remember. Not directly. Not in a way that felt like this. She’d fought him once—survived him, more accurately. And the last time those seafoam eyes had landed on her, they had been wide with madness, hate, and bloodlust for Sasuke. She could still remember the way her back cracked against the tree under the pressure of sand that had wanted to crush the life out of her.
Back then, she doubted Sabaku no Gaara even registered her name. She’d just been another thing in his way.
His stare was unreadable. Sharp. Unblinking. There was no kindness in it, no curiosity—just stillness, and the weight of someone accustomed to reading lies in silence.
Sakura gulped.
COULD YOU GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER?! STOP WHIMPERING AND SPEAK IN FULL GODDAMN SENTENCES. YOU JUST KILLED AN AKATSUKI MEMBER FOR GOD’S SAKE, Inner Sakura barked.
If it wasn’t for Lady Chiyo, none of this would’ve happened, Sakura bit back, half to herself.
TRUE. OLD LADY HAD SOME SICKASS MOVES. KINDA MESSED UP FAMILY DRAMA BUT STILL— BADASS. OKAY, OKAY, FOCUS. YOU’RE STARING AT A CORPSE THAT CAME BACK TO LIFE. CORPSE WITH CHEEKBONES.
Don’t call her that, Sakura warned. And he’s not a corpse.
He was watching her. Still. Silent. Not demanding an answer—just waiting.
As if he already knew and was simply observing how she’d deliver the truth.
Sakura shifted her grip on Lady Chiyo’s body.
“Uhm.” She made a small sound in her throat. The beginning of a sentence.
The Kazekage tilted his head slightly. Not enough to seem curious. Just enough to look vaguely, distantly interested. Like someone judging a wind pattern before a storm.
And still—he said nothing.
SAKURA, EVERYONE IS STARING—COULD YOU PLEASE CONTINUE? YOU CAN’T LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT AFTER JUST KICKING SOME SERIOUS ASS!
Oh, shit. Right. Sakura blinked hard, shifting her focus back to the moment—and back into the Kazekage’s gaze.
“Uhm,” she started again, forcing her throat to clear so her voice wouldn’t crack. “Lady Chiyo… she saved your life.”
The Kazekage’s eyes widened—not dramatically, but enough to fracture that dead calm in his expression. His gaze finally drifted downward, toward the body in Sakura’s lap. His stillness changed—not hesitation, exactly, but an awareness that hadn’t been there before. A subtle shift in gravity.
Her fingers curled gently over Chiyo’s shoulder, the fabric of her robe rough against blood-slicked palms. The silence around them was absolute—punctuated only by the faint breath of wind and the distant creak of the trees.
And it wasn’t just him.
All around the clearing, movement stopped. Even Naruto, who’d been hovering close, fell completely silent as his eyes dropped to Chiyo’s face.
Sakura felt the pressure of their attention—like a hundred pounds of quiet pressing down on her shoulders. She swallowed.
“She used a forbidden technique,” she continued, softer now, “to bring you back. But it cost her her life force. Everything.”
The Kazekage didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
But Sakura saw the flicker.
Not in his face. Not in his breath.
In his hands.
The slightest tension in his fingertips. A shift of muscle through his forearm. Like something trying to move but caught beneath layers of stillness.
“Chiyo…” he said, again. Not as a question this time. Just the name. Bare and hollow.
Temari still knelt close but her eyes were now locked on the body in Sakura’s arms. Her lips trembled, and when she finally looked away, it was only to cover her face with both hands.
Naruto’s voice cracked through the quiet. “She did it because she believed in you.”
His eyes were red. Wet. He didn’t try to hide it.
“She knew what kind of person you were now—what kind of leader you’ve become. That’s why she gave her life. Because she believed you were worth it.”
Still, the Kazekage didn’t speak.
He stared down at the woman who had given her life for his, and his face stayed still—cold, unreadable. As if carved from stone. Only the shadows in his eyes shifted. Only his silence deepened.
Sakura watched him, trying to read something—anything—but the mask never broke. He didn’t cry. He didn’t frown. He didn’t ask why again.
But something in his posture had changed. The way his shoulders drew inward slightly. The way his eyes refused to leave Chiyo’s face.
Like someone tracing the shape of a wound he couldn’t feel.
Naruto sniffed beside him, wiping a sleeve across his face. “She’s a hero,” he said. “You are too, you know. You’re here. That means something.”
The Kazekage finally blinked. Once. Slowly. Then looked at Naruto.
“You weep,” he said.
Naruto gave a weak laugh through his tears. “Of course I do, idiot.”
The Kazekage didn’t respond. But his gaze lingered on Naruto for a second longer than usual. As if trying to decipher something foreign.
Sakura’s grip on Chiyo’s body tightened slightly.
She didn’t know what the Kazekage was feeling. Maybe he didn’t know. But she recognized the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before, in patients who survived when others hadn’t. In children left behind after the their parents had fallen. In shinobi staring at their hands like they couldn’t remember when they last felt clean.
Survivor’s silence.
Grief with nowhere to go.
He looked down at his hands again. Turned them over once, like they might hold an answer. Then lowered them quietly into his lap.
And still—he said nothing.
Around them, the Suna shinobi had begun to gather. Quiet voices murmured prayers in the desert tongue. Some wept openly. Some stared blankly at the earth.
Temari laid a hand on her brother’s arm. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.
Sakura finally exhaled.
Not from relief.
But from weight.
Chiyo’s body felt lighter in her arms than it had any right to. As if the life she’d poured into the Kazekage had taken everything—flesh, will, memory—and left only skin and cloth behind.
“She gave everything for you,” Temari said softly. “And she didn’t regret it.”
The Kazekage didn’t look up.
But his jaw clenched once—barely visible—and then released.
That was all.
X
Eventually, the fire crackled steady in the center of camp, casting long shadows across the clearing. The Suna shinobi moved with practiced, quiet efficiency—tending to the wounded, setting up basic shelters, laying a pale cloth over Chiyo’s still form. Someone murmured a soft prayer as they covered her face. Sakura stood silently nearby, head bowed, hands still stained red.
She couldn’t sit yet. Not like the others. Her body buzzed with the leftover charge of battle, adrenaline tapering into exhaustion.
And there was the blood.
Still tacky along her fingers. Under her nails. Dried along her wrists where her gloves had slipped.
It was Chiyo’s. Sasori’s. Hers.
Sakura quietly stepped away from the fire and into the shadows, weaving between trees until she reached the narrow stream they'd passed earlier. The moonlight shimmered faintly across the surface, the only sound the gentle rush of water.
She knelt beside it, letting the silence settle over her like a second skin.
Her hands hovered over the stream for a moment before she dipped them in. The water stung against her raw knuckles. Her palms were lined with shallow cuts, torn open from the repeated strikes of her chakra-infused blows.
She scrubbed slowly.
Methodically.
The blood loosened in ribbons, swirling into the current like memory being erased. But it wasn’t. Not really. It clung to her skin even as it washed away. Not visible. Just… there.
Part of her.
She rinsed again.
And again.
The cool water ran pink, then clear.
Sakura sat back on her heels, dripping hands resting in her lap.
YOU DID GOOD, Inner said quietly.
But the praise felt hollow, a mere echo in the cavernous void that was her heart. She glanced down at her hands again. They were clean - cleansed by the water, scrubbed free of any evidence of the violence they had participated in. But she knew better.
She started walking back toward the firelight, the glow of her team—and the rest of the night—waiting for her.
Sakura crossed back into the circle of warmth, the fire crackling gently as voices murmured low around it.
Suddenly, she felt a hand press gently onto the crown of her head.
She looked up.
An exhausted-looking Kakashi stood beside her, his usual slouch still intact, eyes crinkling with something close to real warmth.
“You’ve come a long way, Sakura-chan,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you.”
Sakura blinked, caught off guard by the rare praise. Her cheeks flushed, a rush of warmth moving through her chest like chakra set to a low simmer.
“Thanks, Kakashi-sensei,” she said, tucking damp hair behind her ear.
“But I couldn’t have done any of it without Lady Chiyo.”
Compliments from Kakashi were like comets—rare, beautiful, and gone too soon. Even with his lazy posture and absolute refusal to take anything seriously (except mortal danger and Icha Icha Paradise), he was still one of the strongest shinobi she’d ever known… and a pervert.
And maybe she couldn’t take the compliment fully—not yet. But it landed somewhere deep in her chest. Somewhere that had always been hungry to be seen for more than just her forehead and her crushes.
This kind of acknowledgment? It felt right.
She didn’t want to be admired for her looks. She wanted to be trusted. As a medic. As a ninja. As someone her team—her boys—could rely on.
I’ll have to work even harder, she thought.
YOU WILL. MEANWHILE, PERVERT SHMERVERT—BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE ASS ON THAT MAN? I MEAN, HONESTLY, IT’S JUST—
Enough! she snapped mentally, cutting Inner off before she could become the official pervert of Team Seven. Unbelievable…
Kakashi leaned in slightly, smirking behind his mask. “But be careful, Sakura. You keep this up, and you might end up with a page in the Bingo Book at this rate.”
Sakura’s face went pale, then red. “Wait—what?”
Right on cue, Naruto leapt into the scene like a badly timed jutsu.
“Whaaaaaat?! Sakura-chan’s getting into the Bingo Book before me?! Kakashi-sensei, are you serious?! I mean—Sakura-chan’s amazing, obviously—but what about me?! I’m gonna have to take down, like, three Akatsuki just to keep up!”
“Mah,” Kakashi said lazily, pulling out his Icha Icha book with one hand, “I don’t think a lot of genin are making it into the Bingo Book these days.”
“AAAAAARGHHHHH!” Naruto wheezed, staggering back like he’d been stabbed. “Don’t say that out loud, sensei! I swear, when I become Hokage, they’re gonna write an entire chapter about me!”
“I don’t know if that’s how that works, Naruto,” Kakashi replied, not looking up from his page.
Sakura sighed, half-annoyed, half-amused. He didn’t want to make a scene about it, and he was literally making a scene about it. Suna shinobi were starting to glance their way—some amused, some tired, one definitely judging.
“Naruto,” she said sharply. “Calm down.”
Of course, he didn’t. He kept rambling, flailing, ranting—
So Sakura punched him lightly on the arm.
Well. Lightly for her.
Naruto yelped and stumbled back with wide eyes. “Oy! Sakura-chan! What was that for?!”
She shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous. Let’s just focus on helping the Kazekage.”
Naruto grumbled under his breath, but he sat down, rubbing his arm.
They settled around the fire. The wind had softened. The night air held a chill, but the fire gave just enough warmth to keep them close.
Sakura looked over at Kakashi, eyes narrowing.
She gave him a once-over, professional. “Hmm.”
He tilted his head. “Sakura-chan, it’s not appropriate to check out your sensei like that,” he said, voice full of mock scandal.
Her face turned bright red. “I was not—! I mean—for Kami’s sake—I was scanning you for injuries!”
Kakashi chuckled. “I’m fine, Sakura. Just overused my chakra a tiny bit.”
“A tiny bit?” Her brow shot up to her hairline. He looked like he was about to fall over.
As if summoned by a sixth sense, Guy appeared with a hand on Kakashi’s elbow. “Fear not, Sakura-chan! I will take care of him!”
Kakashi opened his mouth to protest but was promptly overridden by Guy’s passionate determination and dragged away toward the fire like a sluggish, eye-smiling doll.
Sakura didn’t stop him.
She watched them go, feeling something like peace settle in her bones.
These people. Her teammates. Her friends.
She felt grateful—for all of it.
X
Sakura clenched both hands tightly in her lap.
Why wouldn’t they stop shaking?
She took a slow, deep breath and glanced around the camp. No one seemed to have noticed. Good.
The others had settled around the campfire by now, and despite the weight of the day, the mood was surprisingly high. Relief, mostly. Quiet celebration. People were laughing again, even Naruto—loud and bright as ever.
But Sakura still sat a little apart from them, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Exhaustion draped over her like a heavy cloak. Her eyes stung from more than just smoke.
SAKURA, WE REALLY NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS.
There is nothing to talk about, she answered instantly.
DID YOU TAKE CARE OF THAT STAB WOUND? AND MORE IMPORTANTLY—WHAT IS THIS WEIRD FEELING?!
Thanks to Lady Chiyo’s antidote, the poison’s mostly flushed out. It’s not life-threatening. Surface healing is done. I’ll be fine.
There was a pause.
Then—
ARE YOU HEARING YOURSELF RIGHT NOW? "MOSTLY FLUSHED OUT"?! YOU SOUND LIKE A WALKING DEATH REPORT!
Sakura closed her eyes and leaned her head against her knees. I said I’ll be fine.
And she would be.
Eventually.
A shadow fell over her.
“Sakura?” Temari’s voice. Low, steady—but with a thread of tension wound tightly beneath it. “Could you… please do a check-up on my brother?”
SAKURA, STOP IT, WE ARE NOT DONE YET!
Sakura ignored inner's voice.
“Yes, of course, Temari,” she said aloud, standing slowly. Her legs ached. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
SAKURA!
She pushed Inner away like closing a door.
Sakura brushed the dirt from her lap, trying to make herself look somewhat presentable.
Not that it’ll make a difference. I probably look completely battered.
She sighed softly and followed Temari through the darkened camp. They stopped just outside a modest tent, the Kazekage’s temporary shelter lit faintly from within.
“He’s awaiting you inside,” Temari said.
Then, unexpectedly, she reached out and took Sakura’s hand. Squeezed it.
It took everything Sakura had to keep her fingers from trembling.
“Thank you, Temari.”
“No—please, thank you,” Temari said, voice cracking halfway through. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if… I mean, both of them were so close to…”
She trailed off, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. Her thumb brushed over Sakura’s knuckles as if just now realizing the contact.
Sakura didn’t let her pull away.
She squeezed back. Firm. Grounded.
“I know,” she said gently. “But they’re both alright now. I’ll see to it the Kazekage is taken care of too.”
Her voice lowered, steady and soft.
“Please, Temari—sit down. Drink something. Eat. It’s okay to rest now. You’re allowed to breathe. They’re safe.”
Temari looked up, blinking rapidly.
Sakura gave her a small smile and one last reassuring squeeze.
Temari mirrored it, and Sakura could see the tears welling at the corners of her eyes—held back, but there. A warrior’s grief, quiet and controlled.
“Thank you so much, Sakura,” Temari whispered. “Please… you should rest too. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I will,” Sakura said.
She let go of Temari’s hand.
Her fingers began to shake again the moment the contact was gone.
But Temari didn’t see.
Sakura gave her a quiet nod, turned, and approached the tent. She gave a small nod to the guard posted outside—he returned it without a word—and pulled back the flap.
She stepped inside.