Chapter Text
(She compacts her horrid divine form into something worse, and she will make it something beautiful. The golding- a girl who will be named Sakura- was a body that was never meant to be seen. She was too bright, too loud and too dangerous. She was a thing never meant to be compacted into a small body, a body that would never fit her.
She didn’t care.)
-
A moment will come for Konoha, where a girl goes into a garden. She will breathe in prayers and exhale answers from where she stands, before pausing.
A breath will halt, and she: holy, divine, and young, will meet a boy. The clock will not tick, not until that girl allows it so. Her hair is like sakura trees, her eyes like the sea, and the red nail polish on her nails is from the blood that paints Konoha’s war fields and training grounds. The girl, unnamed and so proud of her divinity, will hold the boy’s hand with a sort of gentleness that’s rare in gods. This tenderness is not her own, it is a mirror of the boy’s own humanity instead.
That godling that will later name herself Sakura will meet a boy, and she will fall in love. Gods cannot seek love, the godling named Sakura knows. But godlings can. (Godlings will.)
It is a horrid thing, she knows, to love a human. It would be cruel, as some would say, to force a human to bear her love. Her love, which is inhumane and divine and will leave holes in her boy’s heart if she’s not careful, is a fickle thing to wield. A knife. A threat. But Sakura, young and naive, won’t care. Sakura is four years old, or maybe five mentally. Godling’s ages are always such a changing thing; you can never be so positive of how old they truly are. Sakura is a young god, and young gods are so vulnerable to falling into the pits of love and obsession. Sakura is a young god, and while older gods age slowly and measuredly, Sakura is prepared to throw that all away if it meant she would age with the boy with flames in his blood.
He calls himself Sasuke, an odd human name that feels right on her tongue. He smiles, hand outstretched, and she thinks she might be in love. It’s in that garden that Sakura meets the boy, the boy who is bright like a dream and brilliant like the first deities. The boy smells of honey, face soft and round, eyes glowing with cheer. The boy, with black hair, who is able to draw a handful of giggles from the godling, is endearing.
And she takes his hand, shakes it like a good little godling, and feels the softness that all humans have. Not rough, not yet. Not scarred, either.
“I wanna become a shinobi like my nii-san.” Sasuke tells her when she asks. The girl, who will later be named Sakura, nods, a little shellshock with the way his eyes glisten red like fire, fire like Sakura. Sakura is four, maybe five, in godling years, and it is the first time her eyes have widened with surprise, the first time her hands have twitched with passion. It’s better than anything else in the world, it must be. A god's love is a damning, inhumane thing. A god’s love is singlehandly both the worst and best thing a human can hope to earn.
(And young or not, Sakura is a goddess. Sakura, whether she wants to or not, will never be a human girl and will always bleed golden ichor.)
“My name-“ She pauses, “My name is Sakura.”
Sasuke’s cheeks are chubby with childlike fat that all children have, his hands reaching for a tomato from the plant with his feet on his tippy toes. He does not know what Sakura is, but he will. He says he’ll be going to the Academy very soon, and Sakura has no idea what that is, but she decides she’ll go with Sasuke.
Sasuke will not remember this meeting. Sakura will, though, she always will remember this meeting.
Sasuke blinks at her, brightly and it’s vivid in her memories. He gives her a tomato. His own tomato is held tightly in his grip, juice dripping from his lips. He looks like a human, so impossibly human, and Sakura knows instinctively that this is no good idea. This boy will die, and when he does, she will rage. She, with Konoha’s shinobi’s strength and faith and hope, will destroy just about everything once this boy dies. A god does not grieve like the other humane little creatures on this planet, no, they grieve like monsters. It’s such a dangerous thing, you see, for a god- a godling or not, to fall in love with a human. A god bleeds ichor, a god never dies, and humans always will. Humans’ die, it doesn’t matter if they're young or old, because 90 years is a blink of an eye for a god. A human bleeds red, and once they die, their lover- their loving deity will grieve like all gods do: screaming, wailing, destructive.
Sakura has heard story after story from both humans and other spirits about what a god can do once their love turns into grief. A godling like her, despite being so young and unsure with her ability, will not be able to survive that type of grief. At least, she doesn’t think so.
Despite this, Sakura does not dare to look away from the boy.
Yes, Sakura thinks abruptly, I’m in love.
Sakura, a fledgling god, all about four years old, decides she is in love. It was always going to happen, Sakura thinks. Four years old and already so ready, so loving, Sakura stares at Sasuke’s glistening eyes that look like rubies and knows she wants to love him. At four years old, Sakura claims Sasuke Uchiha as his own, and promises to keep him.
Gods are only dangerous when they love something. Sakura has never loved anything, not really, not until she met Sasuke Uchiha.
Sakura, who is made up of all of what makes Konoha Konoha, is a disturbing thing. She is rotten and corrupt and a liar and the blood in her teeth will always linger on her tongue. Blood tastes like metal, did you know? Sakura grits her teeth and forces herself to age like a human girl does. Sakura Haruno is no paragon, no, she is divine and all divine things are made of rotting. But still, she bears the corruption like a shinobi. Like a godling.
For Sasuke, she will say right now, so unsure of her nonexistent humanity. For Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, and every other loved one she’ll gather, she’ll say later and her false human skin cracking. (For Sasuke- Sasuke who is hers.)
Humanity is a scarce thing for gods. Truth is, the deities are a little scared of humanity, of its tenderness and madness. To paint a god as a saint is to paint the sky as the ocean, it is false and off shade, and Sakura will laugh as her sensei bleeds when she is 12 and ancient and with glistening eyes. But for now, she kisses Sasuke’s hand, messily and sloppily with all the false tenderness a godling can muster up, and says-
“I hope you survive."
And Sakura knows he will if she has anything to say about it.
-
There is no such thing as a mother or a father for godlings, at least, not in the way that humans view parents. Pure godlings are made of fire and the ocean, true godlings are formed from belief and faith and all things sweet. True godlings are made from blood and violence. Of course Sakura never had parents, true godlings never do. Sakura’s first “parents” were the blood Konoha had shed in her birth, the smoke that was born with the flames of the Uchiha, the wind in her shinobi’s hair, the devotion and loyalty of all of her people. Sakura was born, molded, from the first step in the battlefield, the first cry in a genin’s first real mission. Sakura was born from the Academy's students' laughter and giggles, the blood spat out from the mouths of her toughest soldiers and Hokage’s.
Sakura, in the start, is born and made of the force that is Konoha. But Sakura knows humans, knows of their silly perceptions, and if she wants to be a good human, the sorts of little girls that make up picture perfect families, she needs a mother. A father.
Her first father, one based on little Sakura’s poor perceptions and bias of human parents, is made up from the smoke of Iruka’s bombs, of the scent of ash in her lungs and mud of the wet dirt in the Forest of Death. He’s made and molded from the same flames Sakura once awoke in, but more silly and human and loving in a way that’s less destructive and more tender. There is something to be said about her very human father’s love, which is far more human than Sakura’s poor imitation of human love.
Still, Sakura does not ponder too much about it. Sakura rewrites his fate into the world just like she rewrote hers. She molds him with clay, you see, with fire in her lungs and ash in her lungs. Mud, she made him with mud and blood and flames and yet he’s still more human than she ever will be. She breathes him out, exhales him and his humanity into something solid. Something outside of her thoughts. She closes his eyes and with all the faith of her sisters and brothers in Konoha she makes him human.
Sakura is laughing by the time her father is made. Her mother is next, she knows, and mothers are a fickle concept for gods. Mothers are rotten, mothers are pure.
Mothers are just like fathers.
(She begins with the hands.)
Her mother- so sweet she’ll make your teeth rot- is made from leaves and hope and Sakura can’t help but leave the lingering marks of her fingers from where she molded her mother. Her mother, pale and dirty blonde and stern like how Sakura imagines most mothers are, has hands that have long since been bruised with labor. Sakura prods and pokes, curious and young, at the clay that builds her mother, like an artist, like a godling. Sakura pushes the strand of hair that falls into her eye between both of them, the only thing she’ll fix from her human-mother-who-will-die. She does not take away her heart, no, that is the most important thing for a mother. A mother loves, a mother nurtures, a mother snarls at any beast who tries to take away her child and aims for the heart.
They will die, Sakura knows, and perhaps she’ll grieve them like a daughter and not a god if she grieves them at all. Perhaps she won’t grieve them like she’ll grieve Sasuke.
This is temporary, anyways. Most things are temporary for deities.
Her mother and father are built for each other, made to love and to be human, to share the weight of caring for a godling who they know will live forever. It is a heavy weight, and it is a weight Sakura knows they’ll carry anyways. That’s the tragedy, she supposes, a mother and father: both caring and loving for a girl who will never love them back in the way they want her to.
By the time she is done, Sakura is scrunching her nose up. She does not look like her mother and father, but no godling ever resembles a human. Sakura is all sharp edges and bold lines, she has pink hair that was once white up until Konoha forced Sakura to bleed with her shinobi. Sakura is all blue eyes and pale skin and frighteningly dim smiles that no real human child would have.
She does not try to stifle her flame, but she hides it, all right.
Sakura’s mother and father will be made, born really, for a daughter that will never be theirs. And they will know it, know it intimately, and still love her anyways. Maybe that was why Sakura knew they’ll be okay parents. Maybe that was why Sakura choked on the hate written in her bones and hid her flames as much as she did. For her parents, for Sasuke, too.
A god’s love is a disgusting, ruthless, thing to bear. It’s a threat, a warning, a knife directed at a human’s mind and ready to break it. (Sakura might feel sorry, really. But Sasuke is a brave boy, and Sakura isn’t a girl at all. Sasuke is a brave boy, Sakura can see it in his eyes, and she hopes it will be enough.)
And right now, with something ugly brewing in Sakura, her version of love is shifting, too.
Her mother cradles her, coos at her, and Sakura’s father smiles. She wonders, briefly, if Sasuke will ever smile at her like this. Lovingly, longing, so utterly in awe.
For now this will be enough.
-
She looks at him, and knows the exact moment Sasuke meets her eyes. Knows the exact moment he recognizes her from a week ago where they met in that garden that only the Uchiha can enter.
Still, he tilts his head, and for a petulant child such as himself, Sakura thinks it might be enough. His cheeks flush a little, barely noticeable by the human eye, but Sakura is a godling. Sakura is divine, and her eyes brighten as he turns away.
It is enough.
“You aren’t human, are you?” Sasuke doesn’t quite look at Sakura.
It isn’t really a question.
“Yes,” Sakura agrees. “But I don’t think shinobi are, either.”
He smiles. Eyes like rubies, eyes like flames, eyes, eyes, oh, how his eyes glint. The sun touches Sasuke in ways she never will let herself. No human should feel a godlings touch, no golding should-
She breathes.
It is enough.
-
After a full one year of the Academy, Sakura observes a few things.
The Academy is an odd concept, a new concept, and Sakura makes her parents sign up for her because she remembers the way Sasuke wanted to sign up.
Well, it was one reason. Shinobi are Sakura’s armor, in a way. The blood they spill, both their own and an enemy's blood, is for Sakura’s laughter and glory whether they know it or not. Their hate, their screams, their sobs, and desperation are what makes her breathe, what makes her power stable and long lasting compared to the other godlings. Their will, their force, it sparks beneath her skin and they fight for a home that will only answer to Sakura. The Academy is a new concept, but so is Konoha, so is Sakura.
The Academy students see her and know Sakura Haruno is different and strange and maybe just a bit frightening. Children are more emotional and sensitive to all that is holy and spiritual, but there’s only two of them who really know what she is. Or at the very least have an idea of what she is after a year of the Academy. They see the way her eyes are just a bit too dark, the too wide smile, the too sharp teeth, and know she is odd.
Despite this, it was the Inuzuka boy who sniffles and finds something holy in her, though, and it is the Yamanaka girl who looks at her and sees the golden ichor in her. The girl, despite being as young as she is, is witty and charming. She wraps the other Academy children around her fingers, but is hesitant with Sakura. Ino is a Yamanaka, and the Yamanaka are always more attuned with godlings when they are young. A fledgling god and a fledging human are both similar in the way they both feel spiritual things more than the older gods and humans. There is nothing more spiritual than a god, and the first they met, Ino Yamanaka backed away from her touch like she was a monster. In a way, maybe she is.
Their friendship is a tentative thing. As long as the girl doesn't get too pushy, Sakura is willing to give a small blessing to her. Ino is kind, and sweet in a way.
The boy is a bit more different.
Kiba Inuzuka, born from a clan that takes to worshiping the elder deities, knows Sakura is not human the moment he meets her. He bursts into tears, sniffling and eyes wide, and knows Sakura is not human, but not sure what she is exactly. The Inuzuka know of the gods, worship them, wash their altars with brash hands that Sakura is fond of. The Inuzuka clan can smell the divinity in Sakura if they get too close to her, she learns. Kiba Inuzuka is loud, booming, a yapping puppy, and despite this, he knew of her divinity the moment she walked near him.
When Sakura asks him to keep quiet, Kiba swallows something hard and says I promise, because while he is loud and unable to keep a secret, he is a worshipper. Before Kiba is a boy, he is an Inuzuka, and all Inuzuka’s know to be careful with their deities. When Sakura asks, Kiba says he will never dare to speak about the blessing that falls upon him which was gifted from her.
“Are there others,” He asks, six or so years old and curious in that Inuzuka manner of his, “others like you?”
The words are breathless, the boy is in awe.
Sakura wonders how Sasuke would react if he knew. She thinks he might already know.
“Of course,” Sakura says, because why wouldn’t there be others? “I’m not sure where they are, though."
Naruto Uzumaki, who is loud and annoying and recalcitrant, is not a godling. He is a vessel, one who is not at all how a jinchuriki is supposed to be. The nine-tails is a vicious one, one who deserved a better keeper, a keeper who will not waver in the face of its power. Jinchuriki’s are a disgrace, truth to be told, but a disgrace Sakura is willing to adapt with. To withhold and to jail a creature of holiness is a mistake in itself.
But outside of the vessel, Sakura has not seen another elder or deity in general in a very, very, long time. The last was an older girl named Seika, a deity molded by Uzushiogakure’s love, a deity with red hair and tan skin who is much older than Sakura. But the Uzumaki’s have near gone instinct, and while Naruto proves that they could be out there, there is no one else in Konoha besides the jinchuriki who holds their blood. Uzushiogakure has fallen, and Sakura thinks that goddess might have too.
Sakura swallows down any emotion she might’ve felt for that thought.
Meanwhile, the Yamanaka wonders why Sakura likes Sasuke, loves him, and Sakura laughs and brushes her questions off easily.
(These days, when Sakura pretends she isn’t looking, she will see her boy staring at her. There’s an intrigued sparkle in his glistening eyes, not quite awe or worship, but a yearning to understand. And sometimes, Sakura thinks she would prefer the awe. Awe is easy to maintain. Curiosity can go away, and Sasuke might go away, too. Sakura is always near him, in a way. Whether she is his shadow, his voice, or his sword, she is his. And he is hers.)
“He’s mine,” Sakura answers boldly, “it’s been like that since I saw him.” She says it bluntly, because while humans may enjoy playing their silly games with their words, Sakura does not.
Her friend, Ino, bites her bottom lip, and Sakura wonders if the humanity Ino has will be what Sasuke will want, in the end. Ino, human and young, does not meet her eyes as she clenches her fists. She is a child, but she is a Yamanaka too, and Ino knows instinctively that it's wrong to upset a godling.
Sakura smiles.
The churning spinning feeling of envy is hot in her stomach, and Sakura knows she should hate the unpleasant feelings that’s so very common in deities. Sasuke is hers, hers to keep, and Sakura knows this feeling of wanting isn’t quite what human love is, but it’s all a godling can have. It’s all a godling can own. This is possession, this is claiming. (Konoha once let its ally burn to the ground, both because of envy, and of control.)
Divinity, she is beginning to learn, has its side effects.
“Don’t worry, you’re all mine. He’s just something I want to keep.” Sakura tries to reassure, because this is a girl who has never learned to be timid. This is a girl who smiles at Ino Yamanaka, a girl made knowing of her bravery. And slowly, Ino smiles back at her. It’s hesitant, and a small little smile, but still. Ino Yamanaka is a smart girl, a child, yes, but a child who will kill one day. She smiles back at Sakura, and it feels like fondness. It feels good.
“Okay,” Ino says, “wanna go play in the sandbox?”
Sakura closes her eyes, and she hopes. For the first time in her life, Sakura dreams.
Sasuke was the first person Sakura learned to love, her love laying in between her small false human fingers, falling between the gaps of a gentleness she will never be able to have. He will not be the last.
-
Ino brings Sakura a bouquet of flowers in their next sleeper, a gift, she says. An offering, she knows. Ino’s hair is put up by two of her purple pins, and she’s wearing her favorite shirt today. Her skin, pale despite hours of playing outside with her other friends, is smooth like clouds. Sakura would know, clouds are actually rather soft.
“Can you paint my nails?” Ino asks, and Sakura smiles at the other girl. There was no other option, really. Ino smiles brightly, like the sun, and Sakura breathes. There is something tender in the shared girlhood of a human girl and a godling. Godlings are rough creatures, but perhaps, Sakura will try to learn humanity this once. Humanity is not a thing to be learned or taught, but Sakura will try anyway. If not for her, for her loved ones. If not for her loved ones, then for Konoha. It would be a shame to let a human like Sasuke fall in love with a monster like Sakura.
Ino asks Sakura what her birthday is, but there is no way to measure a god in any way. Birthdays are an odd concept in regards to deities, Sakura doesn’t even remember what year she was born in.
“I don’t have a birthday.” Sakura answers, honest. Sakura is a godling, and for all that she attempts to mirror humanity, there will always be holes in what she has. There is no way to measure a god.
Ino gapes, before gaining back her composure in the blink of an eye.
Ino huffs after a beat of shocked silence from her, “No way I’m letting you go on with your life without a birthday!”
Sakura tilts her head to the side, thinking. Ino furrows her brows, foot tapping onto the ground. Perhaps if Sakura did not find Sasuke first, it would be Ino who would have gathered her attention.
“You can give me one.” Sakura breathes, and then smiles a little when Ino’s eyes go wide. Then, she squeals, hands twitching, before Ino seems to realize her nails are still wet from light purple nail polish. Ino stares at her, eyes glistening, a juvenile excitement in her grin. Sakura meets her gaze, curiously.
Ino says, “March 28th.”
Spring time, since Sakura’s hair are like the sakura’s in the trees that arrive during the spring, Ino says. She points at Sakura's pink, almost peach, hair, and her fingers are warm and light and utterly human.
Thank you, Sakura says.
-
There is something brewing beneath her poorly worn skin. It bubbled in her chest, bubbled like pain. But Sakura had never known pain, and she doubts she ever will.
It’s something Sakura notices, like the way she notices the spikes of Sasuke’s hair and how it curls into the edges of his face (which is wild, so wild and free, just like the flames in him). Sakura looks at herself, sees the dark hate in her eyes, a product of Konoha’s troubles. Sakura notices and memorizes the way the evil in Konoha burns beneath her skin, all targeted to the Uchiha and the innocent. Sakura is a godling, and Konoha is her domain to protect.
Sakura is not a girl, or a human, she is a silent explosive and there is an evil in her chest that will not go away. Sakura is Konoha and Konoha is her, and she might not be a human at all, but she knows them. Sakura, seven years old and wearing false human skin, has been masquerading as a human girl for three years. A god's version of protection is more possession if anything. It’s a claim that you will never be able to take away, it is an itch beneath your skin, it claws at you until it’s all you’ll ever feel.
The distance between the Uchiha and her is unbearable, the gap between the Uchiha and the godling is unacceptable. Sakura circles around Sasuke, and Sasuke doesn’t even smile at her with that bright smile of his. Sakura isn’t really sure why she loves him and his scowl. All she knows is that she is seven years old, with parents that aren’t really her parents, and in love.
Sasuke is an Uchiha, and the Uchiha helped make Sakura. The Uchiha agreed to peace with the Senju, and fate rewrote strands of fate, rewrote her into the story that plays out. They sang for Sakura, and she grew- she grew slowly and she will continue to do so long after Sasuke dies if she doesn’t do anything. There is a gap between her and Sasuke, and she knows why. Sakura is Konoha, and for as long as the Uchiha resent the Hokage and his elders, Sasuke might resent her.
And well, that just won’t do. For all that Sasuke allows Sakura to be closer to him than the rest, all that he is fine with her shadowing him, he does not let get too close. He is an Uchiha, and of course it means something. The Uchiha clan is Sakura’s, and Sakura is theirs. This treatment is not exclusive to just their clan, no, Sakura will blink and feel every clan’s love and hate. But the Uchiha were the first clan to make Sakura a godling, to form her being, and the only one left considering Hime-chan and Shiz-chan left Sakura. The Uchiha clan is screaming, yelling, sobbing and grieving, and that won’t do at all.
Sakura steps outside into the streets of Konoha, and the trees tell Sakura that the Shimura man wants Sasuke’s clan dead. The leaves lean into her touch, her palm, and speak of eye theft and crimes that no human should face.
That won’t do either.