erode

Chapter Four: Twenty Hours & Two Days

"Let's walk back to Tazuna's together. It seems like you have something to do," her sensei prompts in a low voice. Sakura can't understand how her sensei knows, but she doesn't let it bother her for long. Even if he looks at her strangely for burying unfamiliar dead, it would not be the first time. So instead of confronting the jōnin where the boys are easily within earshot, Sakura keeps Kakashi's leisurely pace as they travel to the old builder's house. The jōnin keeps the almost peaceful atmosphere all the way up to the point they reach the house. He waits until they see Tazuna and Tsunami standing on the front porch, waiting for them. Sakura would be annoyed, but he cannot fault her sensei for his wariness. Kakashi has been asleep for nearly three days with no idea as to what his genin were up to. And any ideas he might've had were proven false almost immediately. Well, it probably wasn't preparations for a mass burial. Her echo's cheeky comment snakes through the forefront of Sakura's thoughts, leaving just as quickly as it appears. But Sakura has to agree. Her facade up until the encounter with Zabuza hadn't been the most... resolute personality. Sakura takes in the sight of Tazuna, Tsunami, and Kakashi as she turns slightly, all of them waiting for her.

"Let's go, then." Sakura decides. Showing Tsunami and Kakashi the result of the past few days is far easier than trying to verbally explain what she has been doing. And honestly, Sakura isn't up for that kind of an awkward conversation. So instead she steels her shoulders, lifting her chin as she follows her echo's directions to the burial grounds. Sakura has not cast a genjutsu since that first night, so the field of corpses quickly becomes visible once they pass the last houses from town. She hears Tsunami gasp from behind her, but Sakura cannot crumple. If she does, the burning day will more than likely have to be postponed. Additionally, Sakura does not know how long this mission will last. So Sakura does not stumble at Tsunami's reaction. Rather, she strides confidently to where Ahmya and the other ashioto are gathered. Each of the ashioto have fanned out. They stand at a position of *itawari, each ashioto standing at the head of one column. Even Ahmya is off to the side. The central column is left empty for Sakura. She begins the rites, so it is tradition for her to stand there. All of the islands are connected. They were one, once. Her mother's voice whispers from the shell of her ear. Sakura takes it as approval. It is all she will get, now that her parents are gone.

Sakura stops, however, on the other side of the field. There she turns around to face her sensei, Tazuna, and Tsunami. She is unsurprised to see that the rest of the town has followed behind them. It is likely that Tazuna told them about today, if they had not already figured it out on their own. This was likely the first proper act of island rites since Gato took over, Sakura suspects. What Sakura does not expect though, is the presence of Inari at his mother's side. Children did not usually attend the final rites, but if his mother would make no attempts to remove the boy, Sakura wouldn't either. She takes a deep breath in. Now that the preparations have been made, the scent of flowers and salt are heavy on her tongue. There is a sort of nostalgia to the scent. As if she has experienced this before rather than learning second-hand from her parents. Sakura makes eye contact with Kakashi, lowering her chin slightly in respect.

"There will be two burning days, sensei. Please bring Sasuke and Naruto tomorrow." Sakura requests. In circumstances like this, only the children are burned on the first day. A hundred fires, each one for innocence long lost. If Sasuke and Naruto agree to follow their sensei tomorrow, they will be spared the sight of witnessing children burn. Sakura will give them this. After all, both of them have already witnessed the death of children. Sasuke in his own home, and Naruto in the streets of Konoha's outer districts. Neither of them will notice the kindness she is granting them, but that is fine. Kakashi will know, and that is what really matters.

"Of course, Sakura-chan." There is a proud look in Kakashi's uncovered eye as he agrees. Sakura is sure that her sensei suspects the Zabuza encounter to be the catalyst for her change, and the jōnin isn't quite wrong. He is actually very, very right. Sakura nods again, bending her fingers into the Konoha sign for 'stay'. Then she leaves the gathering of Wave, walking in between the corpses. She bypasses the opening that is meant for her, instead, walking directly to the sea. A single piece of driftwood lies a few feet from the water. Sakura feels the ocean breeze caressing her skin as she picks up the torch. Her chakra comes forth unbidden. It is drawn from her chest, following her spiraling chakra paths to her fingers. From there it sinks into the wood, faint veins of green light peeking from the bark. It sits within the tip, waiting. Sakura breathes.

"Katon: Ember Seedling." The torch bursts into flame. Green fire crackles from the top of the water's gift, and it is then that Sakura knows. The driftwood had been completely dry from bark to center. And one of her parent's myths had finally proven true. Except, Sakura has always known that the burning rites were the truth. Sakura is a Haruno, and she has long buried her dead. Sakura breathes again, longer this time. She cannot stand idly on the shoreline. There are people waiting. Her sensei, the ashioto, Tazuna and his family. Not to mention almost the entirety of Wave. Sakura spins on her heel and leaves the beach. She travels up and over the rise that leads to the open waters. The sun's rays warm her back, and she slows her pace. Her face takes on a somber expression and suddenly Sakura is standing at that centre column. At her feet is one of the five children from yesterday. Their paopu charm lies still, unmoved from its place. A Konoha blossom curls delicately against their cheek. Sakura looks up, staring at the crowd as she clears her throat.

"Flicker and current, they burn and grow." Sakura begins, running through the rest of the verses mentally. Ahmya turns first, extending her staff toward Sakura's torch. The twine grass quickly catches fire. The other ashioto to Sakura's right follows Ahmya's lead, dipping his staff into the green flames. The stave comes to life with a soft, pastel blue. A coincidence from the twine grass, but it is oddly fitting. The children will be sent off with the colours of a new day. Once all of the staves are lit, Sakura continues.

"Young as they come, and old as they go." Sakura's voice seems to thunder with each word, reaching across the field. Old drums pound as Sakura prepares herself to say the last line. She takes in a deep breath, her chest lifting. She speaks.

"As the sea rises the ocean too, will flow." The corners of Sakura's eyes are filled with tears as she carefully falls to one knee, repeating the words while she lowers her torch to the child's circlet-pyre.

"The ocean too, will flow," she whispers. Then Sakura stands. She is not finished until all the circlets have been lit. So she goes. She steps slowly down the line and touches her torch to every circlet. The images are burned into her mind. Some of the children are no older than five. Others have distinctive scars from street brawls or seashell ornaments that some of the ashioto must have made. All are children. Or kids. Or teenagers. All have sunken eyes and sallow cheeks. She can count each of their ribs, and to her horror, she does. Despite everything, Sakura does not drop her torch. She keeps going. From stepping, to kneeling, to standing. She cycles through each action on autopilot. Blearily, she notices that the ashioto have all followed her example, and that fires are lighting all around her. Sakura swallows dryly. The smoke and heat have parched her throat from her exposure.

Sakura does not know how long it takes for her to reach the end of her column. But when she does, Kakashi is there. It goes like this; she steps forward and sets the last circlet aflame, laying down the flickering torch lightly onto the corpse's stomach. Then she stands. From one second to the next, Sakura is stumbling. Kakashi catches her before she falls onto the ground. His comforts are awkward at first, and he doesn't quite know how to hold her, but he gets there. Her sensei curls his whole body around her, quickly lowering them both to the floor. One of his arms is tucked under the crook of her legs while the other is held warm against her back. His thumb massages the portion of her back it can reach, and coupled with the comforts he is whispering to her, she feels safe. Safe enough to nestle into Kakashi's broad chest without worrying. Safe enough to let her ribs rattle with her unsteady breaths and her whole body shudder with the force of her sobs. Sakura feels safe enough to let her tears wet Kakashi's shirt in speckles and swaths. All the while her sensei whispers to her.

"You did good, Sakura. They are safe now. You have sent them home," Kakashi promises her. He comforts and promises and swears---and something in Sakura knows that her sensei has not done that in a long time. Years even. Sakura breathes in slow and deep, letting the fresh air fill her lungs until the breath sits full and uncomfortable beneath her ribs. A soft pressure from Kakashi reminds her to let go and she does. She lifts her head, turning not to bump into Kakashi but to witness the sun lowering itself in the sky. She breathes.

As the ocean flows, Sakura vows. For the sake of Wave's dead and lost... Gato would perish along with any who helped him ruin this country. Sakura exhales.

*itawari; attention, sympathy, labor, illness, service, carefulness (Position of itawari, or position of attention. It is a stance where the legs are placed shoulder-width apart with the knees slightly bent. In the hands are wooden shafts half the size of the body with weaving twine wrapped around the tip. The grips are on opposite sides of each other; the right hand above the left hand. It is traditional for an island burial.)