Snakeskin

Sometimes you can't remain the prey. Orochimaru succeeded in becoming Hokage and revolutionized the Academy. Konoha comes for Sakura one day, armed with doctrine and regulations. Thrust in a world where blood and power rule, she will need to adapt and swallow her hate, if she wants to stay alive. One way or another, Sakura will claw her way up to freedom. AU!

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

Sakura could feel her pulse.

Her heart had been racing for a while now, fluttering like a hummingbird against her jugular. The blouse Mommy had so carefully picked out felt constricting, but she didn't dare move to loosen it; just a nimble twist of her fingers, the button slipping through the stiff hole, nails digging into cotton.

Two hours ago, Sakura was tracing the intricate designs in the wood of the kitchen table with a butterknife. She dragged the teeth over a scorch mark. Mommy had put out her homework, with little boxes to mark. All her pens, from navy blue to bright pink, spread out on the table. A plate a little to her left side – a still steaming boiled egg on top of it.

Two hours ago, Sakura was happy. "I didn't know they would take you today," Mommy had said. She couldn't dwell on those worlds for too long, though they kept resounding through her head. Not quite like a mantra, but close. Those words meant intent. Mean calculation. Mommy knew.

The stranger was still working on her hair. The snap of scissor was loud by her ear, but by now she had become used to it. Numb, even as her own bubblegum hair floated down her shoulders and landed in her lap. Mommy used to say it was the prettiest pink in the world.

When the stranger had first taken out the scissors, a plea rolled over Sakura's lips before she could stop herself. "Please, no. I'll do a-anything-". The stranger's hand moved, too quick to track. Sakura's head snapped to one side, her cheek aflame with pain. The strangled cry that left her throat sounded feral. Pathetic.

"Silence," the stranger said. Their eyes watched impartially, even as tears welled up in Sakura's eyes and snot began to drip down her nose. "Sit down."

Mommy thought Sakura smart. Clever, unlike her classmates who could not finish mathematical questions in just a few minutes. Or read twelve books in one week. So Sakura looked at the stranger's apathetic eyes, and the lack of sympathy swimming in the depths and sat on the stool.

I didn't know they would take you today. No, not now. Maybe not ever. Sakura pushed those thoughts away and looked around the room. The walls were white, bare, with no windows. The only source of light was a lamp on the ceiling, humming with electricity. There was no furniture either, except the wooden stool Sakura was sitting on.

"Done," the stranger said and stepped away.

Sakura fingered the short strands of hair on her head. They didn't even reach her chin. She sensed movement out of the corner of her eyes; the stranger was moving towards the only door in the chamber: a metal structure with five locks. Sakura had counted them twice already.

"Wait!" The cry was born more of desperation than of any real courage, and Sakura could feel herself hunching, as the stranger peered over their shoulder.

"When can I go home?" Her voice shook so hard her teeth clattered.

"You're home already."

"I would like to see my mother," Sakura begged. She rose from the stool. "Plea-"

"There is nothing to return to." The stranger's cold gaze roamed over her, lingered on her face. A gloved hand beckoned her. "Come."

Sakura's heart leaped into her throat and pounded as if it wanted to create bruises on her skin. Slowly, she slipped off the stool. Her hands trembled by her sides.

The stranger led her into a long and dark tunnel. The occasional torch shed enough light to penetrate the pitch black darkness with a warm, orange glow. The stranger walked like a ghost, feet light on the concrete. Even the swish of their long sleeves was silent.

The stranger halted by a door and ushered her inside. The door fell shut behind her.

The room was long and narrow, with light from a single exposed bulb that dangled from the low ceiling. A woman was seated behind a desk, barely visible behind a stack of parchments, pamphlets, and books.

"Oh," she said, in a high, singsongy voice, when the door clattered shut. "Don't idle so."

Sakura took place in the chair and wrung her hands together in her lap. The woman shoved the stacks of papers and books aside in one fluent movement. The golden bracelets around her wrists clattered.

"My name is Nagisa," she said pleasantly. "You'll address me with the proper respect."

From this close, Sakura could see the faint freckles on her arms. There was a ruthlessness about her, the way she smiled, both the top and bottom shown, too much white of her eyes visible.

"Welcome to the Academy of Ninja Arts," Nagisa said, with a winning smile. Her eyes were not green like Sakura had initially thought; when she lifted her head, they glittered up hazel.

"What." Sakura couldn't quite hide the tremble in her hands. She pushed them under her legs, but even her weight didn't stop their shaking. She peered over her shoulder at the door, for the stranger, for anyone, for Mommy to burst through, but it was shut tightly, letting only a thin strip of light in from underneath.

"That can't be right," she said pleadingly. "This is a mistake."

"Not to worry," Nagisa said. A hand sidled over to rest on her wrist, the palm clammy and warm. "You are not being singled out. Many reacted the same way they came here. It is like that with most civilian children."

She said 'civilian' with a curl of her lips, spitting it out in the world as if the word brought a wrong taste to her mouth. As if it was something to be disdained. Something to be ashamed of.

"I-I w-want." Sakura's throat closed up, and she had to pinch her skin to ground herself. "I would like to go home now."

"That is impossible," Nagisa said. She had a good smile, open and willing, as if that was her first reaction to everything, but it stretched too widely. "This is your home now. You'll learn to love it."

Sakura scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Cease your sniffling," the woman said. "It won't change a thing. You will not go back to that mundane way of life."

"But why?" Sakura cried, and she brought her hand down on the table surface with a thwack. Nagisa leaned back in her chair, unfazed by her outburst, and arched a slender brow. "You kidnapped me!"

"You will be an asset to the shinobi forces," Nagisa said calmly, as if they are discussing the weather over afternoon tea. "If not... well, we have no uses for blunt tools, do we?"

Sakura stared at her. She wanted to scream and rage, throw a tantrum the likes she has never seen or done before. Topple the table. Drive that gleaming needle in Nagisa's hair right through her skull. But she didn't try any of that. Instead, she sunk deeper into her chair and stared unblinkingly into the woman's cold eyes.

I didn't know they would take you today.

"Now that you've calmed down," Nagisa continued, voice laced with exasperation, "Ami here will bring you to your room." She punctuated her words with a nod to the door.

Sakura whipped her head around. A girl was standing behind her, clad in a uniform; a deep green vest, donned over a black top with fishnet sleeves that ended at the elbow. A bright red P was embroidered on the breastpocket.

"Ami here is a prefect," Nagisa explained. She leaned forward, a glint in her eye. The smile on her face was probably meant to be kind, but Sakura could only see the pulling of the muscles around her lips, the showing of too much teeth.

"She will be in your classes, as they are separated by age. She is a fine student. I believe she will be moving to the other dorm soon enough."

"Pleased to meet you." The girl dropped into a bow. When she straightened again, her gaze roamed over Sakura's body, and lingered on her pink locks. She waited patiently until Sakura rose from her chair.

She led them into the hallway and took a sharp turn to the right. Sakura put her chin on her chest, and followed her. There were paintings on the walls, bright splashes of color, and artwork in glass cabinets. A kunai made out of matches, a knitted headband. A sculpted Yondaime, complete with long hair, stared at her in one corner.

Ami turned to the left, into a broader hallway, with wide windows. The outside was dark, and she could only spot the reflection of the lights and their own moving bodies in the glass. She studied her newly cropped hair; it fell neatly into place just above her shoulders and framed her face in a way she wasn't sure she approved of. The long locks Mommy had so adored were gone.

"You'll get used to that," Ami said. She had halted as well, and the expression on her was unreadable. In the moonlight, and the dim orange glow from the lamps, she looked like a waif, with a pale face and a flat nose.

Why did they do it?" Sakura questioned, fingering one strand. "Why does it matter what length our hair is?"

"It is to promote team building. In here, we are all the same, all equal. We are here to become Konoha's strength. In a way, this is how we leave our pasts behind, and step into a future full of promises." Ami spoke almost without inflection, as if she was reading from a script that only she could see.

"All equal, huh?" Sakura said and narrowed her eyes. Her gaze lingered on the P on Ami's clothes, and she thought back to the woman's words: "There are no uses for blunt, useless tools." "Is that the full truth or the fairy tale lie they like to spin?"

Ami's breath stuttered for a second, but when she lifted her head, her face was set into an almost bored expression. Her eyes were bright. "Some things are not meant for ears. You are new, but you must learn."

Sakura wanted to ask dozen of questions, about why she was brought here, what were they doing here, but the look on Ami's face dissuaded her. The girl beckoned her and they resumed their pace.

While they walked, Sakura studied the motivational quotes above the doors, embroidered on a string of red fabric. They passed a Hard Work is the Key, and Order above all.

"This is it," Ami announced. She came to a halt, and regarded her silently, while Sakura took stock of the gleaming metal doorknob, the wooden door, and the letters that spelled The only confinement is yourself above it. "You share the room with me and one other, but you will meet her first thing in the morning. Lights out after ten, and you must be in the canteen at eight, or you'll get no servings. Am I clear?"

Sakura swallowed. She tugged on the stiff fabric of her shirt. "Crystal."

Ami opened the door and stepped in. The beam of light of the hallway rolled over two bunk beds, a large, wooden desk, and a bookcase tucked between that and the wall.

"You can take the lowest bed," Ami said, as she climbed onto her own. Sakura nodded, and went to it, and coiled the blankets around her. She kicked off her shoes, which clattered onto the wooden planking.

She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Her mind was reeling. She did her best not to think about Mother, or home, or her school. She tightened her arms around her torso, a parody of a hug.

I didn't know they would take you today.

Sleep wouldn't come for a long time.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

Sakura awoke with a headache. She wiped away the crust between her eyelids, scrubbed her clammy cheeks with the heel of her hands, and stared up at the mattress above her. Gone were her star-shaped stickers, which glowed in the night. Gone was her intricate ceiling rose.

She propped herself up on an elbow and cast a glance around the room. It was empty, blankets thrown haphazardly over the railing of the beds, except for a girl by the desk.

"So you're the new one." The girl's hair was a dark red, cut to the same length as her own, but it stuck up like a crest at the back of her head, in spikes.

"Is it eight yet?" Sakura asked.

The girl laughed. "Miss Perfection has poisoned you already, I see. Don't worry – we can eat till ten. That's when the lessons begin. Most of the grilled fish will be already gone, though."

Sakura rose to her feet, and picked up the neatly folded clothes from the desk. She dressed quickly, trying not to feel self-conscious, as she shed her dress, but the girl turned around and stared off at the window.

"I'm Fuki," she told Sakura, as they stepped out into the hallway. She lifted a hand as other children spilled out into the hallways, in twos and threes. Her fingers were chapped, her knuckles red and bruised. "I'm great at shuriken throwing, and you definitely don't want to cross me with a bo. If you ever need help during kenjutsu practice, just let me know."

Sakura swallowed. Half of the words that came out of Fuki's mouth were unfamiliar to her.

They followed the flock through the hallways. She tried to imprint the route in her mind, counted the numbers of doors they came across, what turns they took, but there was too much to look at. From every door came more children, each clad in the same clothing. Most of them were younger than her.

"What kind of lessons do you get here?" Sakura wanted to know.

"Physical, mostly," Fuki said. "We have katas we have to study for each lesson. Sometimes we get quest tutors." At Sakura's questioning look, she elaborated, "Sometimes some jounin or chuunin."

They stepped inside the canteen. Sakura ducked her head down, and kept her gaze on her feet, as she followed Fuki to a table. The din of the crowd was static in her ears. It bounced up against her eardrums, and pressed, and pressed.

"We get lessons once a week in kenjutsu," the girl continued. She pulled two plates from the stack and flicked her gaze back to Sakura. "There's chakra control, jutsu-training, flower arrangement, coding and ciphers, stealth-training, sabotage, and intelligence..."

She trailed off into silence at Sakura's wide-eyed look. "No worries," she said, as she pushed a plate full of pickled vegetables, and steamed rice towards her. "You'll learn soon enough."

After breakfast, Fuki took her out into the courtyard. Two freckled boys ran past them, their breaths steaming in the air. Shallow rays of sunlight filtered through the clouds and edged up Fuki's face. She had a jagged scar by her ear – a pink glossy pucker.

"We're going to spar," the girl told her, a smile tugged into her cheek.

"Fight? An actual brawl?"

Fuki didn't respond, and only gave her a knowing smirk. The teacher emerged from the throng of bodies. Standing under the thick foliage of the poplars, stripes of light danced over his face.

"We got a new one, I see," he said, snagging a hand through his dark, curly hair, with a nod at Sakura. She could feel a flush creeping up her face, as several students turned to look as well. "I hope you have all been practicing your katas."

A chorus of "Yes, Sensei!" rippled through the class. He smiled briefly, creating two dimples in his cheeks.

"Fujimoto Ami, and Maki Yasuo. In formation."

Ami stepped forward. Her hair was streaked back from her face, her dark eyes alight with something Sakura couldn't quite place.

Her opponent was so small that he didn't even reach her shoulders. He had a head full of brown curls, and buckteeth that peeked out under his chapped lips. He rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands fluttering by his sides.

"Begin," Sensei barked.

Ami lurched forward, and brought her fist up to strike him in the stomach. Maki deflected her blow with one of his own, and jumped back to avoid her incoming kick.

Sakura felt cold beads sliding down her neck. Ami slammed her fist in the boy's side, and his grunt of pain echoed over the courtyard. He fell to the ground, and rolled to the left in one fluent motion, as Ami slammed the ground where his head would have been.

He kicked her in the stomach, but besides a yelp, it didn't seem to deter her. Ami grabbed his hair, and slammed his head against the ground. Once. Twice.

Sensei stepped forward, and hauled her off him. Ami's face was flushed, and soaked in sweat. She lifted her fist in the air, and grinned.

The crowd burst into applause. Sakura numbly lifted her own hands and began to clap, but she couldn't look at Ami or anywhere near her. Her gaze was fixed on the dark red spot on the ground, the scuffed up dirt and moss soaked in blood.

Two children stepped forward and helped Maki up. They slung his arms around their shoulders, and helped him limp into the direction of the infirmary. Sakura could only see his retreating back, with his head hunched down, pressed against his chest.

Fuki moved from her side. Clapped her roommate on the back with a wide smile.

"What did you think of that?" Ami asked her, but her eyes were on Sakura.

She swallowed. She had nothing to say in the face of such ruthless violence.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

After a few weeks, the days morphed into an endless, formless summer. Sakura awoke with wet cheeks, with crust between her lids, in a metal bed that groaned and squeaked with every movement. Ami was up far before the sun filtered through the blinds, gone into the labyrinth of hallways and classrooms, but it was Fuki who dressed with her, and sent her a tired grin in the morning.

"You should grow your hair out," Sakura said to her, around a mouthful of porridge. "It would look good on you."

"We're not allowed to have longer than your length," Fuki responded, brown eyes scanning her Genjutsu text.

Sakura had read it the night before; the letters of Primal Instincts had kept her up until midnight, when Ami had thrown a blanket over her lamp to dim it, with an irritated jerk of her hands. Mommy had never talked about the ninja arts, about understanding fear, and exploiting it. Sakura had never known there was so much to learn.

"Besides," she continued, "long hair is only detrimental. It gets stuck, can be grabbed, can be used to torture-"

"Yeah, yeah," Sakura hastened to say. Her stomach felt like a nest of vipers had taken home there. Her porridge suddenly ceased to seem appetizing anymore. She shoved it away from her face, and leaned back in her chair to study the girl on the other side of her table.

Fuki was small, her eyes wide in their sockets. As she sat with her nose burrowed in her text, she looked the epitome of brittleness; yellowed bruises ran like bracelets over her arms. Sakura did her best not to look down at her own hand-shaped marks, inflicted by Ami during their taijutsu match.

"Tell me, Fuki," Sakura said. "Why did you join the Academy?"

"Because I wanted to."

"I don't believe that," Sakura said bluntly. She narrowed her eyes at Fuki, who was still bent over her text, fingers twitching along the edge of the paper. "Why would you willingly put yourself out there? We all know the risks and dangers of the battlefield. There are so many other professions you could have chosen."

Fuki straightened her back with a pop, and flicked her gaze at Sakura. Her eyes were cold and flat. A hand crept up to fumble with the fabric of her scarf.

"Fighting for the Village is an honor, Sakura," she said. Her voice was low – a mere rumble among the many others in the canteen. "We live and die for the Village, and that is the way it is and will be."

"That's idioti-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Sakura's jaw clattered shut. Fuki rolled up her scroll, stuffed it into her pouch, and rose to her feet. With an irritated tug on her scarf, she whirled around and marched away, towards the door. Sakura scrambled after her.

Fuki led her through a vacant hallway to the lavatory. Once they stepped inside, and the door fell shut with a dull thud behind them, a hand snatched Sakura by the collar and hoisted her up against the tiled wall.

"You're a fool," Fuki said, eyes glittering. "Talking like that in the middle of the canteen. Do you not have a brain behind that gigantic forehead?"

Sakura swallowed against the curl of saliva in her throat. With a strangled moan, she scratched at the hands holding up her by her neck, but Fuki's hand kept her in a vice-like grip.

"I get that you don't want to be here," the girl continued. Her face was set in a snarl. "This might not even be your own choice. But if you keep being that foolish little girl, then you're going to die."

"L-Let me go." Sakura managed to push the words past her numb lips, but they sounded hoarse and low, and Fuki's grip tightened around her fist of fabric.

"I thought you were smart, with how fast you picked up the theory. But you're stupid. I would accept that this is your fate now – becoming a ninja. Others didn't and met their end sooner than they thought."

Fuki abruptly released her. Sakura slid to the floor, and sat there, staring up at the girl with wide eyes, heaving for breath. Her neck felt sore, where the fabric had scraped and coiled.

Fuki sighed; it rattled in her chest. With a last disgusted look at Sakura, she turned on her heel and stormed out the door.

Sakura stayed in the lavatory for a long time, even as the thunder of footsteps in the hallways faded away. She stared up at the tiled walls, mildew forming in the lines, at the wooden doors of the stalls. On the greasy paint, girls had written all sorts of messages.

Childish handwriting scrawled by the doorknob, spelling Sho is hot, and who needs taijutsu when there's chakra?. Little hearts littered the edges of the door, along with a crude sketch of a cat, and as Sakura leaned back against the tiles, she allowed her gaze to stray towards the paper-clapped ceiling.

She had done that herself in her civilian school, along with a few other girls. Most of the time she had just watched. Grab a fistful of toilet paper. Soak it in water, wring it out. When thrown on the ceiling, it would plaster and linger – a little imperfection against the otherwise spotless ceiling.

The door slung open.

Sakura couldn't hide her startled jerk. She had to thrust out a hand to keep herself from toppling. The back of her head clapped against the greasy tiles.

Ami's eyes caught it. "Not a chakra sensor, eh?" she said, as she stepped over Sakura's legs to stand by the sink. She studied herself in the mirror and pricked at a few blackheads with the edge of her nail. "Too bad. Not many people are."

She shot a look at Sakura. "Stop wallowing, and get up. Suzume-sensei is waiting."

When they entered the classroom, most of the children were too occupied to notice. They were hunched over several stacks of paper, split into small groups.

Sakura could easily imagine this scene took place in another school, her civilian one, where they struggled with math questions, wrote essays on merchant routes in the Land of Fire. Where her mother stood waiting by the school entrance, in front of that wrought iron gate, white hair tucked neatly under her cap.

"Haruno." Suzume-sensei beckoned her. Her gaze, stormy and dark, was penetrating. "You're late. Have you fallen ill?"

Sakura shook her head. "I just lost track of time. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Not to worry," her teacher said. She tossed a few strands of auburn hair over her shoulder and fished her round glasses from her nose. Cleaning the lenses with the inside of her shirt, she said, "I was just wondering if you were settling in alright. Civilian children always have it the hardest, especially the older ones."

"It's -" Sakura began, but then fell silent, since she had no idea what to say. She could hardly be honest with her teacher, no matter how nice she seemed, and tell her that she wrote down the times of Ami's prefect patrols, that she angled her body towards the exit during mealtimes, in the hope of an escape. That she woke up in the night, watchful and alert, heart going fast.

"It's an adjustment," she said finally, after she realized she had been silent for too long in contemplation. Ami's grip on her elbow was light, and she shook it off. "I'm sure that with time it will all be alright."

"Naturally," Suzume-sensei said, with a nod of her head. There was a wistful tone to her voice. "We are working on the anatomy of the brain today, Sakura. We'll need it for genjutsu practice. Does that sound interesting to you?"

"Very," Sakura said, and it shocked her that she was being honest. This was better than toiling away at the endless range of katas in the courtyard, under a blazing sun. Biology had been her favorite subject before. "I'll do my best."

Ami led her to one of the empty tables. On her way, she spotted Fuki in the corner of the room. Her head was tilted towards the boy next to her, as he chatted away with animated hand gestures. As if she could feel the weight of Sakura's gaze, Fuki peered over her shoulder, and narrowed her eyes at her.

Ami tugged on her sleeve. With a shake of her head, Sakura turned away from the corner, and sat down by the window.

Ami pushed a stack of papers towards her. "Fuki doesn't think you'll learn."

"Do you?"

"I think you should prove us wrong," Ami said. She met Sakura's silent stare squarely, almost defiantly, and then looked down to read her text.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

Genjutsu, Sakura found in the following weeks, was fascinating.

Perhaps it appealed to her, because it was a welcome break from her other courses. In class, they mostly poured over medical texts, to understand the different functions of the brain, where one neurological pathway morphed into another.

Sakura sketched her chakra system in her notebook, and trailed her arm with a pen, trying to feel the energy that pulsed deep under her skin.

It was strange to think that such power was right at her fingertips. Residing within her – a weak girl. The power to cause hallucinations, to warp reality, to induce fear. It was frightening, but above all, it was fascinating.

The longer she spent at the Academy, walking to classes with Fuki and Ami, learning taijutsu, how to throw a kunai, deciphering codes, the more she wondered what she would have done, had she known of this before the stranger took her away.

If Mommy had simply asked her to join the Academy – would she have complied, or would she have turned away from the idea of violence? From power?

She didn't know. There were a lot of things she didn't know lately, Sakura thought.

Suzume-sensei set them on plastering leaves against her foreheads. Ami cursed after hers fell off after two minutes and thirty-three seconds, and Fuki gave it up as a bad job altogether, when it wouldn't even stick to her forehead.

"You have to concentrate," Sakura told her friend. She added another one to her face, and balanced it on the tip of her nose. She was now sporting three leaves. "You have to imagine the chakra. Bend it."

"I am," Ami snarled at her. A droplet of sweat trickled down her temple and she wiped it away with an angry swat of her hand. Sakura shared a smile with Fuki, and tried to stifle the vindictive feeling blooming in her stomach. It felt good to be better at something.

So far, the theory in her science lessons, and even the history test of yesterday, which she found decidedly mind-numbing, had been easy enough. The practical side, however, alluded her. Ami kicked her in the dirt during their sparring sessions, so each night she had a new bruise to tend to, and Fuki's aim was frighteningly accurate. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't throw five shirukens at once, and expect them to hit.

"Have you studied the chakra network?"

Ami gave her a puzzled frown. "Of course I have. We've done nothing else the last week."

"Then you know one of the main major coils runs through here." Sakura tapped the center of her forehead, just above her nose. "Place your leaf there, hold it, and accumulate your chakra."

Ami did so, though not without sending Sakura a dirty glare.

"Three minutes," Fuki said, when the leaf floated to the ground. Ami snatched it from the air and crushed it in her palm, her expression murderous. "It's not so bad."

"I will never go to the White Dorm, with this sort of a performance," Ami hissed at her. There was something wild in her eyes. Was it panic? Sakura wasn't sure.

"The White Dorm?" She reached out and grasped Ami's hand firmly in her own, smiling warmly and reassuringly. "What is that?"

"It's where the clan kids go," Fuki said.

She leaned back in her chair. Sunlight was lancing off her shoulders. "Or those with ninja parents."

"Or," Ami said, as she stared down at the remnants of her leaf in her palm, "those with flawless grades."

"Why is it better than this dorm?" Sakura asked. "It's clear you want to go there."

"Let's just say it sort of seals your future," Fuki said. At Sakura's questioning look, she groaned. "Look – when you graduate with those icky clan children, you don't need to worry. Most likely you'll get on a team with people trained from the moment they could crawl, let alone walk, with a good jounin instructor – probably one who has made a name for themselves. It opens all kinds of doors, because then you're not just another nameless civilian trying their hand at fighting."

Sakura had never heard Fuki sound so disparaging, and full of disdain, save for their argument in the lavatory. There was too much white visible in her eyes, and her smile was more a baring of teeth.

"She,", here Fuki pointed to Ami, who sharply turned her head away, "wants part of that, because she has it in her mind that she can become one of the Sannin's prized students. Senju Tsunade's student, to be exact."

Sakura faintly remembered her. The Hokage's teammate. There had been several books about her even in the civilian library. The Healer. The Slug Princess.

"It's not some stupid dream," Ami said. Her eyes glittered dangerously. "Tsunade-sama has only trained one – Shizune, who's now headmedic. Each year new people apply, but so far she hasn't accepted anyone."

"And Ami is convinced she's going to make a difference." Fuki rolled her eyes.

"It's not stupid. It's not!" Ami's cheeks were flushed, and her fingers curled and uncurled around her pencil, as if she had to restrain herself from punching Fuki in the face.

"Tsunade-sama healed my mother," Ami said, as she turned towards Sakura. "She was terminally ill and on her deathbed, but Tsunade-sama came in, and healed her, even when all the other medics couldn't do anything. That's why I decided to become a kunoichi. That's why I want to go to the White Dorm."

"A very respectable goal," Sakura said, nodding her head, mostly to defuse the tension. "I'm sure you'll do well."

"Not if I can't get this right," Ami said, and she held up another leaf.

"We'll train together," Sakura said, as she nudged her friend with her elbow. "Everyday. I'll help you."

The gratitude in her friend's eyes made something in her chest swell, and Sakura had to keep herself from beaming. They continued putting leaves on their forehead, and she made sure to smile encouragingly and cheer Ami on, when the leaves didn't stay plastered against her skin. Fuki crossed her arms, and stared off out the window, silent and displeased.

At the end, they packed up their things. Suzume-sensei seized her by the shoulder, as her classmates trickled out the room. Ami and Fuki halted as well, a silent question in their gaze, but Suzume-sensei waved them along. "Go on. I need to speak to Haruno alone."

She led Sakura to her desk, and pushed a paper towards her. "I had a suspicion," she said.

"Yuuhi Kurenai," Sakura read out loud. A woman's face stared back from the paper, eyes solemn and a glowing red.

"She's a chuunin, who will be taking the jounin exam next month," Suzume-sensei explained. "A genjutsu specialist, and a particularly good friend of mine. I thought a student as gifted as you could learn a thing or two from a true chakra expert."

"Wouldn't it be better if this chance went to Ami?" Sakura asked. She didn't like the way Suzume-sensei was looking at her, full of expectation. And neither did she want to alienate her friendly roommate, who was at the top of all her classes, and pranced about with a big "P" on her clothes.

Suzume-sensei's expression was kind. "I don't deny that she has potential, and though she is not without talent, she does by no means excel at chakra control. You do."

When Sakura was silent for too long in contemplation, her teacher angled forward slightly and laid a hand on her shoulder. The weight was pleasant and comforting, and she fought to keep her longing off her face.

"Don't throw this chance away easily," she said. "Friendship is a vast and wonderful thing, but no true friend would ask another to curb their talent."

Sakura swallowed. "Is it like an apprenticeship?"

"Nothing like that. Just a few lessons here and there."

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

Sakura dreamt of her mother.

Her old house came alive, bright and bubbly, pink carnations by the door, the smell of nutmeg and eggs spilling out from the kitchen. Mommy, in a velvet vest, with the family crest embroidered on the back. Her father's picture, by the shrine, two flickering candles.

That was most of what she could remember; him in a picture. A person faded, year by year, like the dye seeping out laundered clothes. A pattern here and there. The smile from the picture was vivid, but she couldn't remember the actual curling of his lips. How he sounded when he laughed – whether it came from his belly, whether it throttled in his throat. If he snorted like a pig, and clutched his stomach.

"I didn't know they would take you today," Mommy said. Suddenly Sakura was sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a set of physics questions, while her mother stood by the counter in the kitchen, with a glass of lemonade. Three ice cubes were floating in it.

I didn't know they would take you today. The lights above the table flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Then a shadow spilled through the window, and grasped her by her wrist, holding up a blindfold.

Sakura looked up, but it was not the stranger who stared back at her. It was her mother's face, painted upon the stranger's mask. The porcelain lips moved: I didn't know they would take you today.

The features began to melt, like candle wax, dripping over the black-clad shoulders, onto the floor. A few droplets splattered on Sakura's arm, and it felt oddly slimy. I didn't know they would take you today. The features twisted, morphed, and worms came wriggling out of the eye holes. Fat and white, as long as her fingers. I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't -

She awoke to a set of even breaths.

Slowly, she propped herself up on her elbows, and stared out into the darkness. A tiny figure was huddled together in the other lower bunk bed, swaddled and coiled in blankets. Fuki's red tufts of hair peeked out from under her covers.

The air was muggy and humid with twice-breathed air, so she threw the covers off and slung her legs over the edge of the bed. Sakura glanced at the clock on the wall; it read four past two. She hadn't planned to awake for another hour or so, but now was as good a time as any.

She drew her latest treasure from under her pillow. The kunai glinted at her in the bright moonlight that filtered through the blinds. It was so sharp that it would draw blood as easily as a knife going through butter. Kazuki-sensei hadn't even noticed when she'd nicked it during target practice; while he was busy lecturing two tanned boys in motley clothing over 'safety procedures', she had tugged it from the stack and sheathed it in her belt.

She crept towards the door. The hallway was cool and lush, and the cold air bit at Sakura's face, as she hurried down the corridors. She was dressed far too lightly for this hour, only clad in a nightdress and no shoes or socks to speak of, but it made her feel alert.

She stopped by one corner, and counted the seconds in her head. Once she heard the quiet rustle of clothing and the step-step-step of the watcher's boots, she pressed herself deeper into the shadows. He passed her without trouble; a prefect and a boy of ten. He swung and twirled in his steps, his head lolling from side to side, as if he was dancing to an unheard tune.

Once she saw him pass around a corner, she came out of her hiding place, and continued on her way once more. There would be another patrol in fifteen minutes. She had to be quick.

She stopped by Suzume-sensei's office, and fished her make-shift lockpick out of her pocket. She had broken off the handle of a metal clothes hanger and had stuffed the remnant under her mattress. Fuki would let it pass – she wouldn't even bat an eye at it, if Sakura were to keep silent – but she wasn't sure Ami would too.

She dug the metal edge into the lock and twisted. It wouldn't budge. Biting down on a curse, she settled on her knees and peered inside through the key lock. It was dark inside – so pitch black that she couldn't discern anything.

She kept at it. Going back would be admitting defeat, and worse, it meant that she needed to find a new lockpick. Time seemed to stretch. Sakura kept an anxious eye on the corner, where, with each passing moment, she expected a patrolling prefect to show up. There were no hiding places here, no creeks or turns where the shadows were darker. If someone were to stumble upon her, she was busted.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door let out a click. Sakura slipped inside, and breathed a sigh of relief, as the door fell shut. Her palms were slick with sweat.

She hurried towards the cabinets, and curled her fingers around a thick rope. The stiff strands chafed along her palm, as she stood there wondering if it could support her weight. With an impatient sigh, she threw it over her shoulder.

A picture of a bespectacled girl stared at her from one corner, with her hair in two twin braids. She had Suzume-sensei's eyes and nose.

Sakura opened the drawers and pulled out a thick stack of texts. They were dossiers, Sakura noted, feeling her jaw going slack with surprise. Hastily she pawed through it until her name glared at her from one creamy page.

The inside was coded. She scanned the text quickly, but she couldn't make out any of the ciphers, and she couldn't take it with her to decipher at a later date. Someone was bound to notice its disappearance. With a sigh, she turned the dossier around and went to put it back, but froze in shock.

On the back, in bright black letters, was a balance sheet. Her mother's name was on top.

For a moment Sakura could only stare at it. I didn't know they would take you today. Her fist tightened around the paper. I didn't know they would take you today.

Her mother was getting paid for this. Her mother had sold her.

Sakura grounded her teeth together and thrust the stack of paper back into the drawer. Her hand trembled with rage, which caused her makeshift lockpick to prick her thigh. She drove it in deeper, just to feel the ache – to ground herself.

She wanted to get out of here, but there was nothing to return to.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

Yuuhi Kurenai was waiting for her by the gate. Sakura pushed down her nervousness, and raised her chin. Suzume-sensei had recommended her, and she wouldn't have done so if she doubted her abilities. She could do this. She wouldn't fail.

The woman smiled at her in greeting, and it brought out a soft prettiness. The photograph had nothing on her, Sakura noticed; gone was the grave-looking shinobi that had stared out at her from a picture.

"Glad to meet you," Yuuhi said. "You're my first ever pupil." She sounded a bit breathless and raked a hand through her wild locks. "I suggest we get something to eat, and then we'll see how far your training has progressed."

Sakura nodded, and went to turn around, back to the Academy's canteen, but the woman seized her shoulder. "This way," she said, and led Sakura out the gate.

It was strange to be back in the village. Surreal, almost. The air felt empty, unfamiliar and customary at once, as she walked through the streets she had so many times walked before. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dusty shop windows; baby chub in her cheeks, bright-eyed – a child playing dress up.

Yuuhi stopped by a vendor, and came back with two dango sticks. She munched on one, and then asked, "So, tell me, are you very interested in genjutsu?"

"Well, quite a bit – it has many uses after all. It's fascinating, really," Sakura said. "But chakra, in general, interests me. I'm not as good at genjutsu, as I am at chakra control."

Yuuhi led them through a throng of chattering ladies, and pulled Sakura to the side, when a man with a cart almost bumped into her. She muttered a quick thanks, and was glad when they went for the training grounds, the busy morning market firmly left behind them.

"Suzume did say you were a good student."

"I suppose," Sakura said, "I'm only good at her lessons, though. I'm useless at everything else."

"That's not what she tells me," Yuuhi said. "Top grades for all the theoretical classes. You have brains, Sakura-chan."

She stifled the flush that rose at the informal address. The woman was still smiling kindly at her, happily munching away at her dango stick. "Don't be so quick to dismiss yourself," she said, as they came upon one of the training grounds. "Others will do that for you – you don't want them to think you agree with their assessment."

"I don't really care," Sakura said, although it felt like a lie. She had always wanted praise. Had craved it. Yours is the prettiest pink in the world, Sakura-chan.

"I mean," Sakura cast around for words, "I never wanted this. I didn't choose this." Then, she waited, looking up at Yuuhi, for a gasp of outrage, or a questioning look. None of that came.

Instead, the woman sighed deeply, and looked around the training field. It was almost peaceful, standing there in that tiny meadow, listening to the quiet caw-calling and twittering of the birds, and the occasional buzzing of an insect.

"It wasn't like this, when I was younger," Yuuhi said. She looked wistful. "The Academy was different then. When Orochimaru-sama became Hokage, he revolutionized the system. Changed it completely."

"It's barbaric," Sakura spat. "I never wanted this. Please, can you help me? Can you help me get out?"

"It has aided our village immensely, Sakura," Yuuhi sighed. "Last war weakened us, and this system helped us recover. There is nothing I can do."

"Last war was a decade ago," Sakura said, and even she heard the pathetic, pleading tone of her voice. Turning away from Yuuhi, Sakura stared off at the tree line. "My mother gets an allowance, for each month I spent learning at the Academy," she said. "I saw the actual numbers."

They were silent for a long moment. "I can't help you," Yuuhi said, "but you can. When you graduate, that allowance will come to a stop. In eyes of the law, the moment that you receive your headband and become a shinobi of Konoha, you are an adult." She looked Sakura deep in the eye. "Then you can decide for yourself."

She swallowed back the bile at the back of her throat and nodded.

Yuuhi gestured for Sakura to sit. "Have you ever heard of tree walking?"

As they spent the rest of the day soaking up the sunlight, with Sakura walking up a tree, and then progressing to water walking, she couldn't shake one thought. The adults all knew of this. Of the Academy, and the involuntary enrollments.

And they were fine with it.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

She had never laid eyes on this dormitory, with its wide shutters and lush rooms. Ivy angled up the walls, encircled the wrought iron railings of the balconies. Cherry trees were planted around the massive building, though they did not bloom, and hovered over the wide training lawns. Straw dummies were stationed on the left side of the building, where the shadows grew darker, and Sakura thought she spotted a climbing frame in the distance.

She traipsed through the darkness and dashed forward to the wall. There were fewer guard towers here, and the light of their bright beams didn't penetrate as far.

At the base of the wall, it seemed huge. It towered over her, a looming obstacle. She swallowed against the sudden bile in her throat. Every time she had a bit of hope, something else would come up to cast it aside again. Was it so wrong she wanted to be free of this place?

She tightened her fingers around the handle of the kunai. Even if she did not have the strength to get to the very top, she would try. One way or another, she would rid herself of the Academy.

A flash of movement in the corner of her eye. As her kunai slid from her belt, she was already moving, whirling in the direction of the intruder, and drawing her weapon upwards in a deadly arc. She kicked out his legs from under him and grabbed him by the throat.

"Woah." It was a boy's face that stared out from the darkness at her, and his voice was so loud Sakura was certain it carried far.

"You okay? You look kind of scary."

Sakura pressed the flat of her kunai tighter against his throat. "You be quiet," she hissed at him. When his breath was all she could listen to, she dared a look over her shoulder at the dormitory. All the lights were still off, but she wasn't so delusional to think that anyone needed light to be deadly. Not anymore. If anything, predators were more dangerous in the dark.

She needed to get away from here, lest she be caught with a stolen weapon and a stolen rope, and a failed escape attempt.

"What are you doing out at this hour?" the boy asked, and paid no heed to her furrowed brows, though he did flinch away from her when her eyes flashed dangerously in warning. "I'm going to booby trap the dojo, you see, 'cause Sensei said teaching me is like an S-rank mission, 'cause I can't aim that good, and almost took Sasuke's eye out the other day, but that's no biggie, since he's much faster anyway, and he isn't the one who got angry about it."

The boy talked too quickly, with too many animated hand gestures. Sakura was tired. Tired of this strange boy, with strange long whisker-like markings on his cheeks and spiky blonde hair, tired of sneaking around in the dark to avoid her captors, tired of smiling and pretending it was fine her mother sold her to a literal training camp.

"Shut up," she said.

The boy fell silent, and his gaze roamed over her face. Then he opened his mouth once more, "You're very pretty."

His teeth clicked together, and he flushed such a deep shade of red that Sakura had no trouble discerning it even in the dark. She swallowed, feeling awkward and wrong-footed, and cast around for something to say.

"Hey, would you mind removing your kunai?" the boy asked, with a good-natured grin. "Not that I mind and all, but we're friends now, and that's not good practice."

"We're not friends." Sakura flinched back. She stuffed the kunai back in her belt and focused on the sting of the cold metal against her thigh. It helped ground her.

"Of course we are! Nothing says friendship than a good rule-breaking session in the middle of the night." He grinned at her, his eyes too wide and too blue. "I'm Naruto Namikaze. Pleased to meet you, Pink Lady."

"My name is Sakura." She didn't know why she felt compelled to tell him that. Now he could identify her, tattle to the supervisors – who knew what they would do to her? Though with her pink hair, it wouldn't be hard to pick her out from a crowd. Something about Naruto's open face however, the way his markings rippled with the force of his smile, told her he wouldn't tell.

"It suits you."

Sakura raised an eyebrow at him and fingered the straps of her bag. "My parents weren't very creative."

"Maybe they just knew you'd be as pretty as cherry trees in full bloom."

It startled a laugh of her. "Did your mother give you a lesson in poetry or something?"

Naruto's smile widened. "It's my dad who's the helpless romantic, actually. Every year he tries to bake a cake for my mom, and fails miserably. Two years ago, he tried to make a heart-shaped one with "greatest love" on it, and almost burned the whole kitchen down. Since then we stick to ramen from Ichiraku's, since there is nothing Mom likes better anyway."

Sakura couldn't remember any romantic gestures in her own family. She couldn't remember a lot about her parents' relationship. The maundering of voices behind her saved her from a reply.

"Come," Naruto whispered. He took her palm in his hand – his fingers were clammy but warm, and they tightened comfortably around her own. "I won't let us be seen."

He led her along the wall. Sakura held her breath, aware that her steps were loud compared to Naruto's. He walked almost silently, like a cat prowling in the dark. Was he a prefect like Ami? Or was he one of the fabled clan children?

They stopped behind the house. Naruto pried a window open and hopped inside, beckoning her to follow. She hoisted herself over the edge and tumbled down.

Naruto's hand caught her and helped her up. He held a finger against his lips. "Sensei sleeps right above this room," he said, and Sakura saw, when she looked around, that they were in a weapon storage.

"We're closest to the actual danger now," he explained, at her dismayed look. "They won't look here, and he's no chakra sensor, so if we're really quiet, he won't notice."

They settled down in a corner to wait, careful not to touch anything. They shuffled down a rack of spears, and Sakura had to slap Naruto's hand away, when he reached for a particularly well-crafted Boko, with a handle covered in scarlet velvet.

"What were you doing by the wall?" In the darkness, she could just make out the edges of his face. "Were you... escaping?"

She swallowed. Nodded. Naruto breathed in sharply. "That's pretty pointless. They'd bring you back."

The sounds of their hushed breathing filled the room. From where she sat, she could see the light coming through the small interstice by the door, a dim glow, and she wondered what lay behind it. Ami, with her perfect grades, would be transferred to this dorm next semester.

"You're not from here," Naruto said softly. She tore her gaze away from the entrance to look at him; his eyes seemed to glitter in the dark. "You're not from a clan."

"I'm from the Haruno clan," Sakura said defensively. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Naruto shifted and leaned forward. "But not a ninja clan. You're not even from a shinobi family, or else you would have been put in this dorm too. A civilian family then."

"So what?" The words came out harsher than intended, but as she spoke them, she realized she did indeed feel angry. She remembered how Nagisa had spat 'civilian' at her like a curse word. How Ami talked about this place as if it was divine. She wasn't less worthy than them, just because she didn't have ninja relatives. She wasn't.

Naruto held up his hands. "Nothing. It's my mom who comes from the Uzumaki clan, which has always been held in great esteem -' He spoke the words as if he had heard them a many times before. "and they even had their own village once. But my dad – he's an orphan from a civilian family, and he almost made it to Hokage. So, nothing."

The silence that followed felt oppressive. Sakura averted her gaze. "Sorry." Her venom seemed stupid and childish, in hindsight.

"It's fine. I get it. Sasuke is one of those idiots who think they're superior because of their blood. But Mom says it's a load of bull."

"She sounds nice."

"She is. She looks a bit like you, actually." He squinted at her in the dark. "Not your face, but she has bright hair as well. Only hers is red, not pink."

She cast a look around the room. "What's it like living in this dorm?"

"It's pretty fun. I share a room with idiot Sasuke, but he's not that bad once you get to know him – and we've known each other for ages. Ino and Hinata live across the hall, and we often hang out with them. Sometimes we have secret sleepovers with the entire corridor, even though that's not allowed."

Fewer rules. Fewer regulations. Were they less likely to run? Or were they simply not put there against their will, and was that why they experienced more freedom?

"I have to try to get here." The words spilled out of her mouth and positioned themselves between them. It would take hard work – she would have to take Ami's spot at the top of their class. She would need to impress her teachers, - no, no, baffle them - and the thought was not as sour as it could have been. Sakura had always been a teacher's pet, had always driven herself to limits for some praise, some recognition. Now she would do it for some freedom.

"That would be nice. Ino would really like you, I think. Perhaps we can be put on a team together – I really hope Kakashi-nii will be our sensei when we graduate since Dad is making him retire from ANBU."

"That would be nice," Sakura agreed. "Less chance of dying."

Naruto's unsurprised, but remorseful expression told her he knew about the death rates of former civilian teams.

"No dying," he said firmly. "Promise."

"Promise," Sakura said, and they smiled at each other in the dark.

Once the day dawned on them, and sunlight began to filter through the window, they rose as one, and went back through the window. They ventured back to the fence that separated the civilian and ninja dormitories, and each went their own way. Sakura waved at Naruto from on top of the fence, and then hopped off. She didn't look back.

Instead, she raised her head, and smiled. Sakura Haruno was getting out of here, one way or another.

-0

[Snakeskin]

-0

I was really anxious to post this. I hope people will like this. It's definitely an AU, and might not be everyone's cup of tea. I've always liked Sakura-centric stories, and really wanted to write one. For those that did like it, chapter 2 is in the works!

Wishing you all the best,

Ringwil