Sakura had always loved nature. It spoke to her – as in literally spoke to her. She'd always been able to hear the voices of trees, and she loved the slow songs they sang when waking to the sunlight. They were ancient, right down to their roots, and they whispered to her of happenings long past. It was part of the reason she loved history, and not just the history of shinobi that was taught at the academy. The wood on her desk whispered to her too, distracting her whenever she was in class, telling her of students long gone, whispers of a boy with bright yellow hair and how he'd adored a redhead. It also mentioned that their progeny was in her class and told her what he held deep inside him. Nobody ever seemed to notice it, but the wood was always watching, even if it had no eyes with which to see things. Wood kept secrets. Secrets it told Sakura. It warned her of bad men, of blank white masks who would come and snatch her away if they knew what she was capable of… if they knew the true depth of her knowledge and secrets shared between them.

She kept her head down, careful not to reveal anything, even if it meant she had to break off her budding friendship with the Yamanaka Heir. Ino could easily go into her mind, and most likely pick up on her body language if she stuck too close by for too long. Rivalry was easier with her, so rivalry it was. Over a boy of all things. She could safely admit he was cute, but the wood had whispered to her about how harsh a shinobi's life could be. There was no time to worry about romance. Not when she was just starting off on the path. Perhaps later, she told herself, keeping her physical scores low, and her test scores high. Let them write you off as a paper ninja, the trees whispered, making her chuckle. Paper came from trees, and she had an affinity for those.

In hindsight, she really shouldn't have been so surprised when Kakashi tested their elemental affinities shortly after their graduation. Not when she'd had an affinity for nature since her birth. She held the paper in one hand, blinking as it crumbled to dirt.

"An earth affinity," Kakashi said, nodding quietly at her, Sasuke's lightning and Naruto's wind affinities taking up more of his attention. She wouldn't deny the small strum of jealously which flickered through her.

Try again, the trees whispered, your other hand and then both.

"Kakashi-sensei, could I have two more slips?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him silently until he relented, turning his back on her as he focused on his two other students.

She held the paper in her other hand, sending chakra shooting through it, blinking as it collapsed in a soggy heap.

"Ne, ne, Sakura-chan has two affinities?" Naruto peered over at her, eyes shining.

Kakashi turned to her, curiosity written across his face. Even Sasuke looked intrigued – if slightly jealous with his sole lightning affinity. Sakura resisted the urge to sneer like he always did to her. "Earth and water?" He tilted his head. "Congratulations, Sakura-chan… not many shinobi have two affinities right off the bat…"

You're not done yet, the trees murmured, and Sakura clenched the final sheet between both hands, her chakra surging forwards. Paper swirled, brown bark replacing white paper, reaching up and branching out as the miniature tree formed in her hands.

She grinned, teeth bared. "How's that, Kakashi-sensei?"

He swallowed, looking at her wide eyed along with Sasuke. Naruto merely blinked blankly. "Ne, sensei… why are you looking at the tree like that?"

"Dobe, that's mokuton!" Sasuke hissed, elbowing him sharply.

"Mokuton?"

"How thick can you get?" the Uchiha grumbled, sighing deeply. "The First Hokage is the only other person who's had that bloodline ability!"

"Oh, so Sakura-chan is kinda awesome?" Naruto grinned. "That's so cool!"

It wasn't that cool though.

Not with the amount of DNA and other kinds of tests she was put through.

She wasn't related to any Senju, so it was a mystery as to where her mokuton came from. They'd tested her DNA extensively, but there were no clues as to where her affinity with nature came from. Animals loved her, the Nara Forests welcomed her, and birds sang whenever she walked by. It was wonderful, even if none of her teammates seemed to appreciate the beauty of it. Nobody else seemed to. It made her feel different – special like she'd always wanted to be – but different wasn't always the best thing to be. She felt disjointed. Disconnected.

Like she was an anomaly… like she wasn't supposed to be there.

It was only made that much more obvious once the war began. Hard dried out dirt became grassy under her feet, flowers blooming wherever she walked, and if she was completely honest, it got in the way. Her companions agreed, silently pleading with her to turn it off, but there was no stopping it. Something was building inside her. She just didn't know what.

So she ignored the warning signs. She ignored the instincts drilled into her over her four short years of her shinobi career. A fatal mistake. Though it wasn't as fatal as it could've been.

Madara had just been revived, his eyes had crumbled, and she saw her opening. A gap in his iron tight guard. It was a risk, a leap of faith of sorts, and Sakura took it. She wasn't just the designated medic of the team. She was that and so much more. It was just unfortunate it wasn't only her thinking that. She probably would've just been happy with being the medic otherwise.

"You who doesn't belong… I think it's time you came home…"

The voice that rang out was both unexpected and frightening – not least because it echoed in everyone's minds. Ground crumbled under her feet for the first time in her life, her eyes widening as she realised just who the voice was referring to. How could she not? She yelped, arms latching blindly onto the nearest object for support, before that too gave way.

"SAKURA-CHAN!" Naruto's shout came too late, as did his attempted rescue. She fell down through the earth, the darkness almost instantly consuming her sight before she realised that whatever she was still blindly clutching onto as she descended was most definitely warm and most definitely human.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the light of the surface growing ever further away, and before she could even think about doing something to stop her descent, her eyes slammed shut, blissful sleep claiming her in an instant, and Sakura knew no more.

Birdsong woke her.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence, up until the war had begun. Then the birds had to be quiet around her, else risking her being discovered by the enemy and taken just like Yamato-sensei. Sakura rolled over – or attempted to. Her legs were stuck, something hard and unyielding wrapped around them, and her eyes snapped open. Had she been caught by the enemy? She stared down at her legs, trapped in the roots of a tree. It was like they'd grown around her whilst she'd slept, but that was impossible. She hadn't asked the trees to grow, nor had she slept long enough for the tree to grow naturally. She was fairly sure she'd have died of old age by then if that'd been the case.

Birds sounded again, chirping in their nests, and Sakura blinked once again. Where was she? She didn't recognise her surroundings in the slightest, and the trees were different. They didn't sing the same way the trees she remembered did, and it wasn't because they were a different species. They felt older, infinitely more wiser, and that much more unyielding.

Sakura swallowed, gently tugging her legs free from the ancient roots, not wanting to disturb the resting trees from their sleep. The destruction of their roots would do just that. "Right," she mumbled, her voice musical and ringing like a bell, the unfamiliar syllables flowing from her tongue. They were foreign, and yet so familiar. "Stay calm… figure out the situation," she reminded herself, all of Kakashi's teachings flooding her brain. Though she doubted he thought they'd ever be used for a situation quite like this one.

She stood soundlessly, blinking at the shortness. Were the trees bigger? she mused, tilting her head, stepping forwards with one chakra coated foot – stealth was important when in an unknown land – only to freeze in horror when she realised something.

Her chakra was gone.

Not muted, sealed, or unable to be used. It was gone. Ripped out. Like it had never existed. In its place was something completely different. A light in her core. One that refused to budge an inch under her clumsy, frantic grasp.

"Not good…" she muttered, summing up her situation in an instant. "Dammit."

Rustling in the bushes had her spinning around to face the incoming threat, hands curling into fists no matter how weak her blows would be without chakra. She wasn't useless though, and if it turned out to be an enemy coming towards her, she'd beat them up as best she could. Her eyes narrowed, coughing breaking her silence as long strands of pink hair slapped into her face in the building wind. Sakura didn't like this. She didn't like it one bit.

Rather than any sort of dangerous enemy though, it was a boy who stepped out of the nearby bushes, dark grey eyes fixed on her own. They looked like storm clouds, and there were slight bags underneath his bright eyes. He wore a black high collared shirt, his pants a dark brown, his spiky black hair reaching his waist. He looked oddly familiar, she realised with a start, but she'd never seen the kid before. He couldn't have been more than eight years old, and there'd been no children that young in the war.

"You," he spat, and Sakura flinched at the venom lining his voice. "You're that pink-haired medic, aren't you?"

She blinked in confusion. How did he know about that? "What's it to you?" she fired back, folding her arms as she glared stoutly at him. Sakura didn't like him one bit, and she was fairly sure the feelings were mutual, if the answering glare was anything to go by.

"You're the one who dragged me along with you."

She blinked again, freezing as she remembered grabbing onto something when she started falling. That something had been human-shaped, and warm. She swallowed. "I didn't grab onto some kid," she said, stumbling away from him.

"Are you really that thick?" he asked, a mocking drawl in his voice… and it was very familiar… it almost reminded her of her Uchiha teammate, but this child was no Sasuke. He didn't look like anyone familiar, at least not from her childhood.

"Don't call me that!" she hissed, her hands curling into fists. She really wanted to hit him. Preferably somewhere it'd hurt, even without her chakra augmented strength.

"But you are," he said simply. "You couldn't even recognise me – Uchiha Madara."

Sakura blinked yet again, a snort escaping her lips as she stared at the child. "You-You're—pfft—Uchiha Madara?" she asked, sniggering even as she realised he was exactly who he'd said he was. He'd just been shrunk. The scourge of the Five Elemental Nations had been shrunk and forced into the body of a child. She pointed a finger at him, cackling gleefully. "You're a child!"

He merely folded his arms, eyebrows raised sceptically, walking up until he was standing right in front of her, and Sakura had the most horrible dawning realisation. "At least I'm not an immature toddler," he said, staring down at her.

She was shorter than him. Shorter than their greatest enemy who looked about eight years old. Her eyes flickered down to her hands and feet, finally noting how tiny they were. Baby fat clung to her wrists, her hands still slightly pudgy, and she knew her face was far more round and squishy than it ought to be. Madara proved that much by grabbing said cheeks and pinching them as his glare only darkened.

"But since you're the only clue I have as to how we ended up here, then I guess I'll have to bear with an annoying toddler," he said, smirking at her disgruntled expression. "Come on."

Sakura slapped at his hands. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Madara pinched the bridge of his nose. "You haven't got a choice in the matter," he said, grabbing her wrist instead. "Now, are you going to walk, or do I have to carry you?"

She stomped her foot, scowling at how little damage it did to the ground. "I'd like to see you try!"

He did, and he did so very successfully, not that there was much of her to lift.