ephemeral echos

formally known as strawberry laces

001.

she was a cute little civilian who loved to watch the medics in the hospital stitch peoples skin back together in the blink of an eye, with such concentration and silent awe etched into all of her features that the nurses couldn't possibly tell her to leave.

it was only small wounds she would be allowed to see, like someones forearm being sliced by a chopping knife or a cut on the boys pretty face from a training exercise, or even a gnash on the senseis leg that he had allowed his students to inflict on him. her wide, doe eyes would gaze at the fingers that would hover over the damaged skin with a soft green glow covering the medics hand.

it didn't matter how many times it happened, but little Haruno Sakura would always utter an applauding and ego boosting string of softly placed words that would occasionally be jumbled up into little more than a "wah..." or "woah..." with such genuine enthusiasm that the nurses would coo.

she was a cute, dainty little thing, green eyes full of wonder and pink hair barely brushing her shoulders.

and she undeniably loved to observe the new world she was thrust into.

contrary to popular belief, Sakura wasn't blind to the stares and whispers the older generation would say behind their hands in the hospital. they all said she was too little, too soft, too easily hurt (both emotionally and physically) to even withstand having high hopes of being an ninja, or even becoming a medic.

they all wanted her to stay put and be married at eighteen with a wealthy merchant who would keep her well away from harms way, and sure, Sakura, even at her young age, could see the benefits of living such a life ("will he provide me with chocolate chip cookies? ...he will? sure then!") but that didn't mean she had to conform to their ideals and wishes.

Sakura wanted to heal people, and if becoming a ninja and then a medical ninja and going through loses of life and seeing things that would permanently scar her to get there, then she vowed she would.

even at five, she was nothing but determined.

at eleven, she had begun to waver in her decision. it was hard to think of being such a prominent figure or even willing to save lives when she had more pressing matters in her life, but there were moments when she would hold onto that hope.

sure, the cute boy in her class had said he loved long hair, but the medics at the hospital would probably chastise her for to growing it too long lest she have to be constantly putting it out of the way while in the middle of a surgery or if it dipped into the blood on another patients open wound.

so her hair stayed cropped to her chin, and she was proud of her hair, bubblegum and bright and still, obviously, luscious. ("how else will Kota acknowledge me if my hair is short and ugly?")

at thirteen, she had gone through her first major surgery. it had been nerve-wrecking, terrifying and yet she couldn't help but slump and grin tiredly at her fellow doctor in training from across the work table, eyes lidded and the taste of blood sticking to the back of her throat.

it was well worth it.

when the patient woke up, bright bright bright blue eyes staring directly at her and his blonde hair so messy she felt to run her fingers through it because wow he was really pretty she had saved someone really pretty, Sakura was simply glowing and proud of her accomplishment. when the medics had smiled at her underneath the hand that covered their grinning crimson lips and had offered up words of praise and pride, she had never felt more complete.

the after-glow of her achievement never stopped, even as her patient, my patient she thought in near-awe, was discharged from the hospital only a few hours later.

at fourteen, a month before her birthday, she lost her first patient. it had been bloody and gruesome and there was so much blood covering the table, the body, her hands, his hands, the hands that had grabbed the front of her white cloak and smeared it splendid with a plethora of scarlet emotions and had coughed and hacked and begged her to save him.

and she had simply said she would do her best, but as she stood there in shock, days later -"please, please medic-san save me i'm not ready to die yet save m-"- trailing his name on the memorial stone, Sakura had to remember that life was something to treasure and hold onto for as long as death would allow.

when she was just shy of fifteen, her eyes skimmed the death of an Iwa soldier as she glided past him, white sandals soaking up his blood and a gurgle leaving his throat that didn't even make her bat an eyelid as she kneeled towards the Konoha ninja who sat just a few inches away.

she would never forget a shade that blue, so captivating and beautiful in a way that made her so alert and so alive that her composure as a medic nearly faulted.

nearly.

and yet she held her smile, never once wobbling nor too sharp and her hands glowed bright green, the same shade as her eyes and suddenly Sakura felt so much more alive out on the battlefield, healing the small nick on his tanned calf (not really, it was covered in uniform and bandages but underneath, underneath it was a light tan and she really shouldn't be paying attention to such trifle matters when the nick could be infected by the enemies kunai but, wow, maybe-) than in the hospital surrounded by white and sterile equipment that couldn't possibly compare next to the adrenaline she worked above while pressed for time or in the medics tent or out where the shinobi play, fighting for a war that just wouldn't stop.

at seventeen she would be called to attend a festival that was being thrown by the third hokage himself, one where everyone and their grandmothers mother was invited as a result of the treaty signed by all nations that decreed the end of the third shinobi war.

standing to the side of the festival, Sakura blinked. Namikaze Minato, her mind whispered, and eyes flickering over his shoulder, she watched as Tsunade gave her a drunken thumbs up while Shizune dragged her away, looking notably exasperated as usual.

eyes turning back towards the blonde whose smile hadn't slipped from his face, she raised an eyebrow.

"would you care for a dance?"

and Sakura recoiled as though she had been slapped, biting down hard on her tongue because his voice was like honey and completely different from what Katon's deep timbre or Daiki's light tone had been.

his smile still hadn't dropped, she noticed with a sense of exhilaration bubbling forth.

"sure," she shrugged, and allowed herself to whisked away in a metaphorical bundle of light and the buzz of alcohol somewhere deep in her system. or maybe it was the way his dazzling sky blue orbs stayed trained to her figure whenever she would walk to each stand in awe and childish excitement, or maybe it was the way he would tease her with that permanently stupid smile, or maybe it was the way he dropped her off at her apartment with nothing more than a thank you and maybe she was just a little more than buzzed when she grabbed the front of his fleece jacket and dragged him down for a kiss because she was goddamn tired of how tall he was compared to her.

maybe it was the height difference that made her hate him a little more than normal, or maybe it was the way he left her breathless on her own apartment door rather than the other way around.

either way, she was going to get him back.

(it didn't matter that she started it, she would furiously mutter to Shizune who would be hard pressed to contain her giggles at the lilies perched on her soon-to-be-broken office desk, she was going to fucking finish it)

it also didn't matter that her anger wasn't truly anger and that the reason she was angry was the biggest bullshit he had ever heard, he would state as she grabbed the front of his jacked for a second time, but that was truly besides the point.

his apartment door was pristine white Sakura would notice as she let go of his anbu mesh shirt, dazed and smugly grinning.

uh hi. sigh the mix of tenses has me internally wailing but y'all never heard that mess from me, aight?

also, instead of just re-uploading on my other (still uploaded but discontinued, for obvious reasons whoops) fic that was the first of this series? one-shot chapter updates? continuum of my muse that yodels at the injustice of only 50ish minasaku fics compared to 10000+ sasusaku ones? i just decided to post a completely new mess.

truly lovely

it makes me cry everyday that minasaku as a crack pairing isn't appreciated enough and that basically all and every current minasaku fic is either a) abandoned, b) hasn't been updated in at least 9 years and is just collecting dust particles and the crumbs off of boms plate that she left in ygs dungeon, or c) has the worst grammar and characterisation known to man and beast.

frankly, a mess

and that's where i step in, but from uh, years of hiatus and with plots and writing that have been scrapped bc lord was that ugly. i cant even try and work the plots (that i can barely remember but that's besides the point) bc just .. no, no . i have a few plots already thought up and written down and a few chapters already in waiting but i'll give it a few before i post anything wink wink dry heave