#Seren entirely forming their identity around their bloodline

[volucris-liga]

A while ago, one of my friends mentioned that sorcerers are his least favorite magic class in D&D, because there’s no story/personality in how they acquire their powers. Not like a warlock actively making a pact, a wizard actively studying, a cleric actively following their god, etc etc. There’s no agency for the character, and he thinks they’re boring.

I disagree. I love sorcerers! Their magic is inherited/natural, yes, but that’s exactly what makes them interesting. Because how do you use the arcane power you’re born with? How do you feel about it? Do you appreciate it? Do you take it for granted? Do you consider yourself superior because of it? Do you make it part of your core identity? Do you try to run from it, wishing that it didn’t exist? Do you feel the burden of horrors in your past you’ve inherited without your consent? Do you feel trapped by the promise of your blood to live up to your ancestors? Do you work hard to embrace it? Do you hate yourself for what you have no control over?

There’s a lot of shit in life we can’t control. Things we’re born with. Blessings, curses. Sorcerers are interesting to me because they can be stories about identity — who they are, who they are not, and who they want to be.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Coronation

So I said I would post the crazy things that go through my head for no reason on any given day. Here’s one of those.

Who are these people?

It was enrollment season at Cassell College, right after the 3E exam results were released and a caravan of gleaming black Rolls Royce cars drove in a stately procession through the the streets. Pedestrians stopped to watch the unusual sight, whispering about who this procession might be for. The windows of the vehicles were completely blacked out, blocking the view from outside. The entirety of the vehicles was bulletproof. Each one of them has flags displaying a family crest, a green dragon raising its wings and spewing flame on a red background. The caravan stopped in front of Amber Hall. The entrance garden welcomed them with expertly sculpted topiaries of lions and horses. Silk garlands lined the covered walk. The people getting out only got out on one side. The vehicles formed a wall, blocking them from view.

The freshman Caesar Gattuso was already holding his welcome banquet for new members of the Student Union at Norton Hall after winning the Day of Liberty competition against the club Lionheart. The Gattuso family was notoriously rich and high class. Even rulers of countries would be honored to be an invited guest at their galas but people were filing out of the Rolls Royces for this occasion instead. It begged the question why they would spurn going to an arguably better party right next door. Perhaps it was because they were not invited. Or perhaps this was a deliberate play to show they were equal, if not better, than the Gattusos. A bold move, considering those who challenged the Gattuso family risked getting their attention. It wasn’t unusual for those who got their attention to meet with a challenge in return. Losing such a challenge came at a high cost. For some, it would cost them their lives. It was a good reason to conceal one’s identity.

The people getting out had white, grey or salt and pepper hair. Men in crisp suits and black leather shoes walked with women on their arms. Each face was covered in a sequined black masquerade mask adorned with blue feathers. No one checked them in at the door. Everyone in the masks knew they were supposed to be there. From within those doors, a live symphony orchestra and soft sounds of voices and laughter came from the golden light.

A stretch SUV rolled up like a steel anaconda and stopped in front of the entrance garden. All the drivers in this caravan opened their doors and filed out, forming a line on either side of the path to the doors, standing at attention and saluting military style as a young man with dark hair got out with an older man with grey hair who wore a black suit complete with military colors and medals. He walked with a cane made of silver wood and topped with a brass knob.

“Dominic. Lift your head up and stop sulking like a God-damn child.” The man growled under his breath. In a smooth quick motion, long practiced, he struck the young man in the instep with the tip of the cane.

The young man gasped and looked forward but did not break stride despite the pain running up his shin.

The floor of Amber Hall is paved in mirror like marble carved from the same quarry as the Roman Colosseum. Its stately columns rise twenty feet into a dome ceiling of curved windows, lined with gold plated frames. A heavy gilded crystal chandelier dripped from the ceiling to shine light on the people below. 

Waiters bearing thin plates of champagne flutes danced among the crowd. Long tables of delicacies framed either sides of a wall. A whole roasted pig lay flat, the classic apple in its mouth, its belly cut open. An ice sculpture of two leaping horses was the centerpiece between the sweeping staircases that led to the second floor. Royalty would not seem out of place here, but the guests were all retired military. They carried ceremonial daggers, swords and pistols along with their suits and gowns. This being Cassell College, however, one could rightly wonder if ‘ceremonial’ was a true way to describe such ancient weaponry.

The lofty double doors opened into the hall and Dominic stood beside his father with the cane, carrying a straight, basket-hilted sword at his hip, a chain arcing from his coat’s breast pocket that was attached to a watch hidden inside. He lifted his chin as proudly as the man next to him, but stared through the magnificent scene in front of him as though he were blind.

The music died down. All faces turned to look at them, full of expectation.

"Prince Dominic of Amsterdam has tested true to his blood." The man announced. "House Nassau will return to the path of Dragonslaying."

The announcement was met with enthusiastic applause and the band began to play a triumphant tune.

Prince Dominic was of the old royal blood. The Dragonslaying royals split off from the political royals nearly a thousand years ago with intent to perfect their dragonblood lineage through carefully selected breeding. Over time, they grew stronger and more bold in their efforts to suppress humanity's natural foe. It was said that this 'shadow royalty' held more influence than that which showed up in the newspapers. This secret branch of the royal family soon joined the Secret Society of Dragonslayers and their names, Nassau and Orange, are recorded in that history. That is until a mysterious disaster befell them. Only one servant girl survived to spread the news. The entire family had been killed in their beds by a band of assassins. The sun set on that glorious family and they weren't heard from again for until, one day, a message arrived at Cassell College from the 'Dragon King of Nassau'. He offered his son to Cassell College.

This is why they had not acknowledged the Gattuso family heir's Gala on this same night and why this gala was filled with military men. Each guest was no soft personality but members of the elite royal guard. The remaining ranks of a military lost to history had come together to receive their new head of state.

Dominic kept his head high, but trembled inside. The 3E exam had left him feeling hollowed out and weak, but his father deemed a visit to the Psychologist Toyama unnecessary and kept him sequestered until the Gala. The new royal family was as fragile as a dragon embryo. As the new heir, Dominic couldn't show any signs of fragility.

Down the staircases, women in sheer white dresses and long hair tied up in braids and buns descended to the sound of a stately march played by the orchestra. Each one carries royal purple cushions with the ancient ancestral regalia. The first carries the crown, a thin circlet of gold with a diamond at its facing. The second carries a golden engraved scepter. And the third: a sword in a sheath made of genuine dragon skin, said to date back to the royal days in Europe. The women stood in a line facing Dominic. Their expressions are blank and serene, like the three women weaving the strands of fate. The music dies down and the hall is silent before these goddesses. Despite the hundred guests, a heavy solemn quiet descended. No one moved.

The women spoke in one voice. "Say your vows."

Dominic took one stride forward. He spoke, his young voice firm and strong. "I swear to the people of my Kingdom that I shall uphold the mission of my ancestors, to hunt and to kill the dragons wherever they may hide."

He paused, swallowing. "This. I promise."

"I swear I will strengthen the bloodline, defend and preserve the homeland, and protect the royal family from all corruption. I will employ all means placed at my disposal for the good of humanity."

His voice echoed in that silence for three seconds. Then came the grating metal sound of dozens of swords, daggers and guns being drawn. The entire assembly kneeled to the floor and all heads were bowed. Everyone placed their hands on their hearts, and solemnly closed their eyes, save his father who stood, watching with a cold and critical gaze. A hundred voices declared in unison.

"We receive and invest you as king. We swear to maintain your inviolable sovereignty and the rights of your crown. This we promise!"

That final shout rattled the venue. Dominic took a deep breath.

The three women stepped forward. First with the crown. She lifted it and placed it on his head.

"Long live the King!" The crowd shouted.

Next, the scepter, placed in his hand.

"Long Live the King!"

Finally, the sword. His hand curled around its hilt and his arm tensed, locked as though struck with an electric bolt. The rest of the crowd could barely breathe as they watched with apprehensive glances. The mystery of such ancient relics had sparked rumors that those unable to control the sword were to be corrupted by it. The sword would devour the swordsman, turning him into a Death Servitor. The older man with the cane lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. Dominic's teeth clenched momentarily but he slowly relaxed and took the sword from the cushion. The held breath of the guests let out in a relieved sigh and murmuring. The man's cane then thumped the ground in displeasure and the silence fell again.

The three women returned to their places in front of Dominic. They turned to watch him with pale cold faces. Dominic himself was pale from exhaustion. A thin sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. The hand holding the sword trembled for a second, then stilled. The women opened their mouths and they shouted out in perfect harmony "Long live the King. Death to all dragons!"

[cronquette]

:three:

:three:

Disclaimers:

-Dedicated to Julia/ Silverwolf735

-I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, all credit goes to Masashi Kishimoto

-More informal notes will be situated at the end of this chapter

Enjoy!

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It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.

-Wallace Stevens

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

“It really is an honour to do this, you know,”

Ino lathered her hands in rich, creamy serums to cleanse her digits, minutes prior washing them clean in water and drying them with a neat rag. She scrubbed generously across her skin, scrutinising the plain pinkette that sat obediently before her, hands held closely in her lap, a myriad of thoughts crossing her mind on whatever to do with the said girl. She hummed lowly, blonde brows knitting in concentration, precision crossing her mind in seaming hatches. She took her index fingers and thumbs and created the scene of a picture between her pale hands, switching portrait to landscape, picturing her close friend in many different styles, each resulting in the Haruno looking absolutely breathtaking. She sloppily grinned, her tongue peaking out of the right corner of her lips; she was utterly excited, and yet terrified at the same time.

Senju Tsunade had entrusted her with the looks of her daughter-figure. There was no question she would push her limits just to add the extra effort in for Sakura. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her, nonetheless. Having the decency and poise for such a role, Ino felt such gratitude, she almost shed tears towards the news. She knew this event would momentarily approach, but since the morning of their breakfast, resting on the patio and chatting hour’s talk within just a few minutes, the days seemed to fly faster than an icarus soaring towards the sun.

And now, now was the day she would have to bear the worry of saying goodbye. Of letting go of a rope she had been tugging on for so long, only to realise her attempts at keeping the tide at bay were futile-- Sakura’s dreams and pursuits were not one for her to interfere, and she would certainly not object to crushing her faith in the world outside the trees that had shielded their forms for so long. She wasn’t so cruel as to drag the pinkette’s mind back to her own ground, for although their opinions on what they would serve to do in the adult world would forever remain sparse, she would also forever support the decisions that would take place in her mind. And vice versa. That, along with others, was one strong thread that had sewn Ino a scarf of belief that Sakura would keep strong and firm, would never falter, and would step up as her identity as a witch. She may have to mask that fact in return of unpromised safety, but there would always be that place in her heart that wouldn’t deny herself of her person. Of her lineage.

“What mood are you feeling right now, Forehead?”

Crystal orbs witnessed emerald globes gleam with calculation, trying to discern her pooling emotions balling up in her stomach.

::

Haruno Sakura had waited years for this-- a decade at most. She had always dreamed of being able to step out between the last two wooden pillars that were the trees that loomed over the warlocks and sorceresses that took residence in said place. There was yet so much to be processed, and yet all she could focus on was the way the Yamanaka’s eyes were trailing over her features, searching like a fine tooth comb, in preparation for the ceremony that was to take place hours after this. She pressed her rosy lips in a thin line, her legs begging to move--to jiggle-- for she was anxious. Never in her life would she imagine to have gotten this far.

The biggest stepping stone prior to this was to convince Shishou to agree with her risky plans. With the way the coven was run, no one expected her to be crowned the Senju’s successor, for bloodline wasn’t accounted for.

Even with the given circumstances-- the two females were not blood related.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sakura stared into the small mirror that sat at her side, portraying her reflection. Her seafoam eyes glistened with a sense of fierceness she had never thought she could exhibit. She searched, her calculating expression causing her brows to furrow, to find the features she had developed through her late mother.

Of course, the colour of her orbs was a definite fact; through her mentor’s words and rutting, few paintings she had of her, she was able to make out the distinct similarities they both shared. Hers just was a tad lighter, and along with portraying the colour of the evergreen lush shades of the forest, she also had the vision of spring splayed like cataracts across her promising eyes. A sign of hope, a sign of happiness.

“What would you do if you were here, mama…” she lowly whispered, burying her head in thick strands of her rose tufts, her features swelling downwards.

“Did you say something, Sakura?”

“No,” she jumped at the presence of Ino, forgetting she was also in the room. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders to prove her case.

“I have the perfect look for you Forehead. Just you wait!”

As the blonde dressed and primmed her, she wondered if a talk with Tsunade would help to understand her mother further.

::

She was never used to wearing such a thick, sprawling gown, but here she was, staring at the person in her reflection-- proud and determined.

Ino really had worked her magic to the fullest potential; she really did look gorgeous.

She wore a white, puffed-sleeved shemise decorated with lace at the cuffs, and around her waist sat a hip pad, tied securely to later on serve the purpose of keeping her petticoats upright and voluptuous. She wore two layers of thick duvets, pleated at her backside hip and profound in accentuating her growing curves. They were both coloured a dark, mesmerising red that gave more life to her softer features, such as her lotus locks.

Her bodice was black, but her stomacher a shade lighter than to what her skirt was. The ribbons laced soothingly around alternate holes, fastening her chest tight. A shawl was twisted modestly over her shoulders to mask her bare, creamy skin, and her legs were covered with stockings, held in place with a simple lace garter. Her leather shoes had a clinky heel to them, which made her an inch taller. She felt as if she had moved up in the world.

Her locks had been braided neatly and swirled into an uptied bun, some strands decorating her face with pink curls. They were decorated with crimson ribbons and her namesake-- artificial ones, that is, Tsunade carefully crafted them for the purpose of adding to her outfit. She looked ethereal, a goddess put forth as the wielder of beauty, and once the moon had arrived to witness her, it was as if she overshadowed the face of light itself, creating merely a substance of glimmer to her rich luminous figure.

Tsunade paid her a visit, later on, when her errands had been fulfilled and she had made sure that everything was in order and in serenity’s embrace had she finally had the time to approach the dear girl. She found her sitting down on the dining table, her usual seat occupied as per usual, but for whatever reason, she looked so small, so frail and fragile, so vulnerable in that moment, that it seemed she was about to break. Her shoulders hung lowly, her head tipped down, her pale, gloved hands sitting perfectly in the centre of her lap.

“Sakura? Is anything the matter?”

She sprung up, like a late flower in Spring, her green orbs encased with gleaming surprise, but she instantly retained her posture once she had a hold of the person in the room.

“S-Shishou,” she greeted, a sense of flustered manner bestowed within her. A tinge of pink dissipated across her face.

“I was only deep in thought, I didn’t mean to stir any worry.”

The elder woman came towards her, prodding the youth to retreat back to her chair. She gazed upon the young lady with fine pride, studying her features, seeing her here was a reminder that an old friend was still by her side, and had entrusted her with the greatest gift she could ever give.

“If I may, would you tell me what’s plaguing your mind, dear?”

It was without hesitation that she spoke, her tone filled with the strength of a rock as she looked at her mentor directly in the eye.

“My mother. What would she have thought?”

::

She was old enough to handle it-- the both of them had acknowledged that fact, Sakura taking advantage of the situation, and therefore having the upper hand. All that was said was needed to be declared, and she had been given her answers. It was then that the Haruno felt truly prepared to take part in her ritual.

::

The ceremony commenced the moment the hand stroke it’s twentieth chime, where as Sakura stood on a marble podium enlarged for a huge cauldron, bubbling with excitement and steaming with delight, and the Mistress herself, the one entirely building the future of the pinkette at that current moment. Everyone from the coven had hurried to observe such an illustrious event, one that such would fill the night entirely with gossip and chatter, small grins of revelation or astounded faces with no other way to convey their reaction.

Whatever it was, all present of the ceremony knew that Haruno Sakura was about to be crowned her jewel, her birthright, the precise channeling of her chakra. She was about to receive it-- all in her very possession, and fret not, for she wasn’t as nervous as what one would have expected. Here she was, being granted permission to finally use her energy fully for the good of the world. There was nothing more she wanted to do, anyway.

Other than step outside the barrier of woodland to discover things beyond her own measure, places she would have only befallen in dreams.

“Haruno Sakura,” the deep voice boomed before her, yet it only made her stand taller before her mother figure, proud and prepared to cross a new bridge in her life.

“Shishou,” she nodded firmly, knowing this and a couple more times into the night will most probably be the last time she could call that name before she would wander off to her own devices.

“The moon is full; your time is nigh.”

She held her subtle breath as she made her way towards the erupting pot, gleaming under the moonlight. She pulled her lids to a close, focusing on every ounce of what she had been taught over the years, days of pouring her heart and soul into her studies flashing before her, memory by memory, as she recollected what she had garnered through the assistance of the dear Senju. Her right hand stretched out, merely feeling the course of ripples dancing through the spherical large sustainer.

Allow yourself to release chakra onto it, Sakura. You will know you have done enough when you will feel an equal amount of force thrusting towards your palm. Do not stop your motions, or rather fear it; you must persevere until the ritual is done. I highly believe in your capability. 

Do it.

She could hear that strong, booming voice coaxing her, drumming through her like a streak of lightning, empowering her. She slowly let loose, feeling cold, energetic waves course through her veins and release through the centre of her palm. Through the darkness of her shielding lids she could feel a glint of blue being lit ablaze as she did so, proving that she was indeed exhibiting her energy towards the concoction. She had never gotten enough time to study the ingredients laden within the black tub, but she knew its purpose. Tsunade had bestowed a specific spell to help conjure her birthright-- birthstone that would have best suited her, something she would eternally have, that would be in her possession only.

Steadily, she felt something intangible begin to plow through to her. It wasn’t as strong as the force she had been applying, but something told her it would gradually increase, so she strengthened her pose and focused more on the task at hand. Being put in a silent crowd of spectators was a little overwhelming, however the process of the ritual alone was not a prospect that daunted her predominantly.

She reached the pinnacle of her strength, and under the moon’s supervision, a bright, warm, glowing emerald ascended in front of her, blinding the crowds with its awesome wonder. She became mesmerised by it; the stone the length of her hand, but she knew not to touch it-- not at that very moment. 

But soon.

She stared at it, floating stationary in the air, her small mouth hung agape at it. She could feel energy of her own adorning such a green crystal, unbeknownst to her, the jewel created a beacon of light shedding flecks of green against her already beaming orbs, unintentionally making them shine with further fervour. 

Her palm hovered over it, her body drew closer and closer, until the cauldron was the only obstacle that prevented her front standing right next to it. Her index, timid and slightly trembling from use of chakra, touched the surface of the jewel. She hadn’t expected anything, it’s rigid layers crumpled, yet the centre smooth, its opaque rocky form provided something cool to touch; her brow marred slightly-- twitching at most-- as her fingers traced the vertices of the object.

From behind her, she couldn’t see the soft smile Tsunade had given her as she watched the said girl inspect her birthright. The blonde woman looked to the crowd, and giving a firm nod, they began to shatter the silence brought forth for the prior concentration needed, and rather, the palace was now filled with clamour. It sent jolts of merriment through her, and tears stung lovingly at her eyes. 

Sixteen years...sixteen years was the amount of time she had been able to keep her sheltered. Now, she would have to heavily grasp onto the mere hours she had left, feeling the girl already slipping from her fingers like an hourglass, a loose thread through a sewing needle. She’d done her part, and well, for most could see the lovely young lady Sakura had blossomed to be, but she saw it coming that it was only a matter of time before her mind would drift to higher lights, to things beyond her knowledge. With a mind like her mother’s, that wasn’t hard to gather.

So when a reception had begun, she sat herself further from view of the most part, sipping daintily on a bottle of fine sake, the rice wine tickling the inside of her throat and burning with utmost force, but she paid no heed to it. She’d done her part, the upbringing of a daughter that was not hers, but would always be regarded as one, but she felt as if she hadn’t done enough. She wanted to scourge all she could from the night, but as well as it being young, time flew quickly. Her head spun with the possible outcomes of approaching her. It was most likely that she was speaking with friends one last time, and it wouldn’t seem right to disturb her, but at the same time…

She sighed, a puff of steam emitted into the fresh cold night air, deciding her next taste of sake would be a heavy swig, the juice coating her mouth as she did so. She swallowed bitterly, her tongue clicking in hardness as she squinted to the sky. The winking stars were not so prominent this night as they had been others, but she took it as a sign for a specific pinkette to have shone the brightest out of all, and she left it at that.

She remembered a day similar to this, when she received her stone. She quickly found a strong bamboo stick to wind around it, to protect it, steady and firm, such as herself. Her mood and burdens lifted at that. Her youth had long gone and surpassed her, she knew that, but she was also the last of her time, at least, to her. There had been no need to talk of such trivial needs alike to her younger days. She combed stray tufts of her locks that tickled her face, gently tucking them back, and then in a weak attempt she tried to find locks of pink in the crowds of celebrating people.

She was so weary that she didn’t see the ravenette that slowly approached her.

::

The breath was knocked out cold from the pinkette when she observed the huge palace of foods and tables set out before them invitingly, warmly, prodding everyone to take a share.

There were tables, covered with cream linen cloths, surrounding the expected perimeter, as it was all open air, the event. And on those tables sat platters of hot, mouth watering dishes that sent strings of steam into the night air, lapping enticingly for consumers. There were oil lamps too, to keep the evening bright and warm for everyone to sit around and just talk. It was all so comforting, especially as she knew it would be the last in a while that she could sit down and let all her worries waft away with the nightly breeze, laughing and talking with the dearest people cherished in her beating heart.

She was sixteen years of age, and yet she still felt like a small child, not ready to let go of the hand of the ones she trusted most, tender and helpless. But she would not permit anyone to see her that way. She would remain sturdy until time’s end. She felt a light feathery touch on her almost bare left shoulder, heat resonating between the two. There, she turned around to meet sky blue eyes gleaming with such happiness that coaxed her to smile as much back.

“So, how’s it feel to be sixteen?”

The Yamanaka had found the two a table relatively close to the plates of food scattered around, figuring her appetite must have arisen during the ceremony. She gestured for the blonde girl to have her share, only waiting until she was satisfied with her portion and had sat down to properly converse.

“How long did I take during the ritual?”

“About twenty minutes…? I always knew these types of things would take an enormous effort in time, but what really bugged me was the old hag standing next to me. She was muttering spells this and that under her breath, and it vexed me so,” she feigned hurt, dramatically sighing herself down onto the table’s masked surface. She quickly sat back up, however, to take a bite out of an umeboshi filling of an onigiri. She shuffled the ball of rice before taking a small nibble at its peak, daintily chewing. This only retracted a light hearted snort from the rosette. She lad herself back comfortably onto the back of her chair, her arms folded neatly under her biceps, rolling her eyes playfully as she watched her friend eat.

“You might want to have one last moment with Tsunade-sama, you know. We’ve all seen how she resorts to all her problems. And it’s annoying how she becomes. I doubt an occasion like this would not leave her like this. The effect you have on her is entertaining,” Sakura gasped as she saw the Yamanaka chug a quick shot sake, roughly setting the small glass down and then exhaling heavily, a drunken smile on her face.

“Pig! You’re not even of age yet! What if someone catches you?!”

“To hell with it, I won’t get as bad as that, and I’ll be sensible. Don’t start acting like Okaa-san just because you’re now a full fledged witch, Forehead. You’ll never hear the end of it from me,” She gave a sly grin.

The Haruno herself only nibbled on such light delicacies, such as a couple steaming takoyaki stringed with brown glaze, mayonnaise, aonori and flickery bonito flakes. It took up some of her appetite before having a small bowl of anmitsu, which had set her straight for the night. She did not drink, even though she was now technically permitted to do so, she wanted no distractions towards her journey out of the woods; she made her mind to stay sensible. Had it been anything else, she would’ve taken a responsible sip, perhaps under the supervision of her mentor.

Speaking of the said woman, she knew she wouldn’t be able to withdraw from the myriad of congratulations she was to receive from everyone, so she deduced that she would not cross paths with the aforementioned Senju. Bitter, she pondered, but it wasn’t impossible for her not to meet before her departure. She highly doubted the woman would miss it, anyway. So she bypassed everyone with suave and ease, greeting them patiently, waiting for the daylight to rise, for the sun to come once again, and then, then, she would finally reach the dreams she had barely been grasping just a few months ago.

::

“You’re going to miss her, Tsunade-sama. I think we all will.”

Shizune had taken her seat besides the woman at her own accord, cautious not to stir up a riot with the Senju-- she knew enough that the former was beginning to feel light-headed. She peeked through her curtain of dark locks to see her expression.

“Shizune.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You remember what happened all those years ago…” She concluded the woman was beginning to stir with fatigue, her lids grew heavy and her hold on the now empty bottle began to fall loose, not so much as to drop it, but slightly softer than before. And plus, she would never disclose information, perhaps this time phrased as a question, out in the open. This alike.

So, Shizune took it rhetorically.

“Why don’t you retire for today, Tsunade-sama? You’ve done so much to prepare for this day…” Her head hung low as the blonde turned to look at her. She couldn’t decipher her expression, much less know that she was staring at her at all, for the short haired woman was searching the pebbles and soiled ground, not meeting her syrupy brown eyes. When she heard a light snore however, the Kato fought the urge to burst out in a fit of laughter, holding the Senju’s weight against her as she sluggishly dragged the both of them towards Tsunade’s abode.

It gave her both a sense of relief and alighting hope that she could let her guard down so easily; the last few months, no, years, had deprived her enough of her sleep and happiness. The only joy was Sakura, but now that she would entirely leave for God knows how long, she doubted the elder woman would be able to comfortably rest without her terrors frequenting her mind. She softened her gaze at the tipsy blonde, content with the fact that at least now, she could be snug in her own skin, if not for a little while.

::

The festive occasion was buried well into the night, further prolonging the early hours of the morning. Which decreed Sakura sleepless when she was quickly checking the supplies she had prepared for her unknown trip. She dressed lightly, unlike a few hours prior when her hips sagged petticoats and her bodice fit with many layers of cotton. Her hair was fully plaited high up, her baby strands hanging loose, stretching out statically, but would not be seen either way as she masked from the hairline and down to the nape of her neck, a light veil, a wimple, that prevented any persons from seeing the concealed pink within. Convenient, and subtly neat, she knew, and she would not grab attention from anyone who lay dully as a stranger to her.

Signo!

Her eyes caught her heap of scrolls sitting idly, cornering the room and gathering dust. She had sealed within them some of her more heavy luggage, so she found it simple to place them in light sheets of tattered paper for now. She placed them into her sac, a brown, old, worn out bag that yet still carried a lot and had mustered so much throughout its time. Apparently, its previous owner had been her mother. She wanted to still keep a piece of her with the pinkette, aside from her notes scripted in her recounts and a small, delicate painting of her.

She leisurely closed the door behind her, fretful that she would cause enough noise to wake the whole coven up. Thankfully, she didn’t, and set off towards the edge of the forest. She was nearing the barrier when she saw two figures up ahead, seemingly awaiting her arrival.

“Ino; Shishou…” 

She trailed off, her brows shaking with utmost emotion she could not contain. She smiled, but her bittersweet beam meant nothing short of a goodbye. It was fruitless if they were to stop her now-- she had made up her mind on what she was going to do, and she’s carrying it out now. But she knew better: they were wanting their farewells to be the absolute last and most meaningful to her, something she would regard in her memory when travelling vast plains, when seeing the moon arise, and then fall.

“Forehead!”

She nodded towards the younger blonde, not long before the latter collapsed her whole figure on the Haruno, pulling her into a bone crushing hug as she let her tears free, dampening the rosette’s shoulder with her salty droplets.

Sakura chuckled sadly, “I’ll miss you too, Pig.”

“Don’t die, dammit. Take good care of yourself, eat well, and just-- just, come back someday. I don’t think I’ll survive forever without you.”

She rubbed circles on the Yamanka’s back to solemnly comfort her. She nodded, making sure of that fact.

“Don’t worry; I’ll visit once in a while.”

“You better.”

That wasn’t from the blonde she was currently in contact, rather, it was the other blonde, the elder in their place, her arms weakly crossed, slightly smiling at her own form. She could make out the heavy bags that drowned her mentor’s lids. It brought a sad feeling to swell up in her chest.

“Don’t push yourself too much, Tsunade-sama. I know first-hand how much you love to do that.”

She nodded firmly, then, taking her small palm into hers, she closed her eyes, gripping tighter, as if memorising each and every inch of her skin. When she opened her eyes, a fresher, more youthful smile appeared on her face.

“As to you, my dear.”

::

Sakura had used her chakra fueled from her emerald to set off, waving one final goodbye to the place she would forever know as her childhood, her home. She was yet to craft a rod to help with the weight of her brilliant stone, but for now, she would worry about what lay ahead of her. It was hours of walking to completely free herself of the woodland, but she knew she could make it. Her limits were definitely more stronger than a couple hours of walking.

Each step further and further away led her feeling such exhilaration, that when she approached a sea of creamy mist, she felt her heart bursting with frisson of not knowing what was there. She steadily walked through it, the grey fog whispering around her. She was not afraid, as she strode further until she could clearly see the break of the sun’s beaming rays,

And a bustling village full of humans lying ahead.

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Hi again! I’m back with another chapter. How was it? Please leave some sort of feedback for me as I would love to take some constructive criticism from my readers. I’ve been so on and off with this chapter, but I’m decently satisfied with what I’ve done in it.

Thank you, as always, for proof-reading, Julia.

Until next time, goodbye!

-Writer