Ignoring the fact that I've just started a madasaku story...here's one where Sakura's a mokuton user. I fell in love with the concept after reading The Company of Trees by theroadkillcafe and To Be the Will of Fire by hambaagu. I just...I just can't seem to get enough of it...

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Currently unedited.

The winds howled and raged throughout the land of fire, bringing a hint of rain with them and drowning out the pained screams of a woman hidden deep within the forests of Konoha.

"Chinatsu-sama, you're almost there," the midwife urged the screaming woman. "I can see the head. Please, my lady." She kneeled at the bottom of the futon as the doula leaned over it with a wet towel in hand, tucking blush colored strands behind her lady's ears.

Chinatsu was was unwavering in her determination. She had vowed to bring her child into this world, to grow and prosper despite their heritage. Her baby would live. She didn't hope for it as this was a fact to her.

Almost as soon as the dark skies brought the rain, she was proven right. The rains seemed to struggle against the sturdy wood of the hut, and as the loud cries neared her, she could feel the worries in her vanish as something in her soul relaxed completely. Even as the doula wept at her side, trying in vain to soothe her injuries, she smiled when the midwife kneeled next to her.

"She's beautiful," Chinatsu looked up eagerly and felt her cheeks grow wet as she spotted the tuft of pink.

"Oh, thank you," the mother whispered. "Thank you, thank you…" Her confidence in her baby's survival grew even further. After all, no Senju child had ever had pink hair. Her eyes lost focus for a second as she tried to sit up, only managing to do so halfway, leaning against Chiyo. The doula looked resigned, but there was a trace of joy in her face as she looked at the child. The sound of a door sliding open had them alert, and Chinatsu frantically tried to think up plans that would ensure her child's survival.

Light footsteps approached them, as did a familiar voice. "I'm sorry I'm late. Chinatsu, I…" The man looked sad to see her in such a state before his eyes were naturally drawn to the little one next to her.

Chinatsu, still smiling, beckoned him to come closer. "Hashirama-sama, come meet your niece." He did so, teary-eyed and delighted as the midwife placed the baby in his arms.

"She's gorgeous, Chinatsu-chan. She looks almost exactly like you, he's going to sulk…" Hashirama told her, frowning when her giggles gave way to wet coughs. "Let me…"

"No. There's no need," she said firmly, shaking her head at his attempts to look her over. "Is he…?"

He refused to look away even as his bright eyes dimmed. "No, I'm sorry. He won't make it in time." She simply nodded, knowing that despite everything that had happened with them, he would have tried his best to reach them in time.

"I know you can't raise her." He looked stricken, even though they both knew it was true.

"Chinatsu-"

"All I ask," she cut him off, trying to keep her gaze focused on her child. "Is that you do what you need to. To make sure she lives. Whatever you need to do, Hashirama-sama. Please." He placed the baby in her trembling arms, placing a glowing hand on her forehead.

"I swear it upon my honor. She will live," he breathed, soothing what pain he could. Chinatsu nodded, thanking him as she brushed a thumb across a feather soft cheek. A light blink allowed her to glimpse light brown eyes and she nearly wept again, in her strong relief.

"I will watch over you from the skies, Atsuko-chan. I love you," she cooed. Hashirama watched as she faded away slowly, never once looking away from her daughter. And he silently vowed to watch over this child until death and beyond. He picked her up once more as the two women wept over the loss, and saw the newest addition to his clan, not his brother's illegitimate child. She might never know it, but she was of his blood.He watched with a little smile as tiny Atsuko dozed without a care, realizing there was something he had inherited from her father.

"You look just as grumpy when you're asleep…" he mused.

As Chinatsu had wished, they cremated the body and slowly made their way back to the village, freezing when they felt several chakra signatures heading their way. Hashirama handed Atsuko over to Chiyo, his movements indicating a sense of urgency as he led them in a different direction than the one the village was in.

"Chiyo-san, Hanako-san. Keep heading in that direction, the way to the Wind should be clear. Atsuko-chan's existence must be kept secret. I'll take care of our pursuers and join you as soon as I am able." Which shouldn't take too long, he thought privately. The two women, looking anxious but resolute, nodded their understanding and slipped into the shadows of the trees. Hashirama, realizing it would be better to meet his enemies himself instead of letting them get closer, hurried towards them.

They were no pushovers, these men trying to claim his head for fame, but far from his own level of power. He took to the trees, excited to bring his niece home where his wife was surely waiting up for them. A sudden flare in the direction the women had been heading had him speeding up, hoping to all the powers above that it wasn't a hostile encounter.

His heart sank when he neared the place where he could still sense traces of chakra, but not the steady life force of the people he had been trying to protect. The site that came into view had him dropping to his knees, eyes burning as he searched for the bundle. But there was none, he realized. Hanako and Chiyo were dead, with Atsuko missing. Good, because missing he could deal with. He sprang up with the intention of going after his charge when he sensed the arrival of several more chakra signatures. He bit back a growl as reinforcements kept coming. They couldn't put more than a scratch or two on him, he knew but the more time he wasted here the faster he could feel the traces of chakra disappearing. Hashirama dealt with them quickly as the numbers kept increasing but by the time he started running in the right direction, the traces had all but disappeared. Not giving up, he searched throughout the night but it was as if the kidnappers had vanished into thin air.

Searching through the night bore no fruit and he had to pause his search eventually, slipping into the village and his home in silence. Hashirama sat in the backyard of his home, hidden from view by thick trees. His ears twitched when the door to the backyard slid open and heavy footsteps thudded down the wooden stairs and slid through the long grass. Within a few seconds, Mito was staring down at him sullenly, her arms held out expectantly. It was hard to tell who felt the crushing weight of disappointment more when she noticed his empty arms and teary eyes, clouded over by his grief.

Present day, Konoha

The civilian neighborhood of Konoha was mostly peaceful, with limited shinobi activity throughout the day. There were, however, exceptions to this that took place every other day. The front door to one of the lovely little homes opened to the happy sounds of the birds chirping, and a man stepped out, the grin on his face entirely too cheerful for the heat of the afternoon sun. He hurried towards the ice-cream vendor passing by, exchanging greetings with a familiar ease even before he reached the gate.

As the vendor dug through several popsicles, the man eyed the ninja rushing over rooftops curiously.

"Ah, Arashi-san. Do you know what's…?" he asked the vendor, who only snorted in response. The had disappeared by now, but they hadn't missed their irate expressions.

"What else? It's the same as usual, Kizashi-san. The Uzumaki boy gave the rock-kage faces makeover," the old man seemed more amused than anything by it, now used to the pranks conducted by the child. It was a cry for attention he had often heard from his own children and considering the boy's circumstances, it did not surprise him in the least.

"Ah, I see," Kizashi guffawed. "He's a spirited one, that kid." He paid for the cherry popsicles, collecting all ten of them eagerly. Arashi looked around in confusion as he seemed to realize something.

"Oh? Is Sakura-chan out playing?" he asked, by now used to seeing the Harunos' daughter at her father's side every Sunday as they waited for him. The other man seemed to wilt slightly at the question.

"No, I'm afraid not. She came back earlier than usual, saying she was tired. She's taking a nap upstairs…" he mumbled as Arashi's eyes darkened.

"It's those kids again, isn't it?" He nodded and the older man huffed in slight anger on his favorite customer's behalf.

"Damn kids these days, they're little demons, some of them. It astounds me that the same people who shun the Uzumaki brat are raising such cruel children." Kizashi watched him go silently, his joy subdued now as he walked back in, moving to open the freezer almost mechanically. He let the cold air hit him in the face, a pleasant feeling even after the few minutes he'd been outside. A shuffle behind him had him blinking and looking over his shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" He handed one stick to his wife silently, who looked at him with slight concern as he slid past her into the living room.

"It's the Uzumaki kid again," he sighed, sinking down on the couch. "Mebuki, are you sure we can't do anything about this?" She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly as she set to devouring the treat. It was a subject that had often come up during their whispered discussions, with them reaching the same conclusion every time.

"It's not like we haven't tried to help out. But, like Hokage-sama said...civilians shouldn't get involved in this." If there was a hint of bitterness in her tone, he ignored it.

"So we, as civilians, can't help out at all. But the others can torment him as much as they want to? That's ridiculous," he muttered, knowing that Hiruzen was doing what he could but it just felt like he wasn't doing enough. "It just feels wrong, you know. With our roots in the same place, he could be of our blood." While they'd both grown up in Konoha, the couple knew their family history enough to know there was a chance of some distant relation, especially on Mebuki's side.

"I know, I know what you mean." And she did. But there wasn't much, if nothing, they could do about it except maybe urge their daughter to befriend the boy. But as much as they wanted to do so, neither of them had taken that step yet. Their daughter's safety, coupled with their lack of understanding when it came to vessels, kept them quiet.

"Is Sakura-chan awake yet?" he asked. Mebuki shook her head, glancing at the staircase for confirmation. "Did she have another nightmare?"

"No, she went back to sleep after that. Hasn't woken up since then," they exchanged slightly worried glances. It wasn't uncommon for children to have nightmares, but it was the nature of them that worried the parents.

"Well, she said they watch those scary movies at Ino-chan's place," he tried, unconvincingly. Mebuki waved the now empty stick at him in disagreement.

"It's not disfigured ghosts she dreams of, Kizashi-kun, she dreams of war-"

"Mom?" came a young, sleepy voice from the door and they went quiet immediately, turning with identical smiles aimed to sooth.

"Sakura- chan, how was your nap?" Kizashi asked, ready to cheer her up with surprise ice-cream. He watched in slight bewilderment as she went straight to the kitchen.

"Good, but I wanted to sleep longer. But then Ha-chan woke me up, saying you'd got the cherry sticks," her voice came from the kitchen where she was on her toes, peering into the freezer.

"Popsicles," Mebuki corrected absently, mirroring her husband's exasperated look. She had probably seen him come in from the window but insisted on acknowledging her friend.

"Isn't she too old to have imaginary friends? She's got a real one now," Kizashi whispered. Mebuki shrugged, knowing it would pass on its own. Sakura was an emotional child and was probably too attached to the idea of her non-existent Ha-chan even at the age of six.

Her idea of an imaginary friend, however, was a bit different from the ones they usually encountered. Sakura said she couldn't see him, could barely even talk to him, only hearing the barest of whispers as she grew up, though they were stronger than ever if she could be woken up by them.

The strangest thing, Mebuki thought as she watched her daughter skip into the room, was that she had been climbing up the large tree in their backyard as soon as she was able at age five, claiming that she could hear Ha-chan best when she was there.