The silence that followed the battle was absolute. The unnatural snow fell softly, blanketing the yard in a serene, deceptive shroud. The fight was over. Zabuza and Haku were dead. Gato was dead.
But the cost was laid bare in the broken home behind them.
Naruto stood trembling, the demonic red chakra gone, leaving him hollowed out and cold. Sasuke was unconscious, a still figure whose survival was not yet a certainty. Deva, his own body shaking with the adrenaline crash, forced himself to move, his mind screaming at him to act, not just think. He flickered to Sasuke's side, his fingers pressing against his rival's neck. He felt a pulse. Weak, but steady. "He's alive," he said, his voice raw.
Kakashi was by his side a moment later, confirming the assessment before his gaze swept over his remaining students. Naruto was in a state of shock. Deva was alert but trembling. And Sakura… Sakura was not moving.
She was kneeling beside Tazuna, who was sobbing over the bodies of his daughter and grandson. But Sakura wasn't comforting him. She wasn't doing anything. Her eyes were wide and vacant, staring with an unseeing horror at the bloody scene inside the house. The sounds of the battle had ended, but for her, the wet, tearing sound of Zabuza's blade and Tsunami's final scream were replaying on an endless, silent loop.
"Sakura," Kakashi said, his voice gentle. She didn't respond. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sakura, it's over."
At his touch, something inside her broke. A low, wounded sound escaped her lips, which quickly escalated into a full-blown, hysterical scream. It was not a cry of sadness, but one of pure, undiluted terror. She scrambled backwards, away from the house, away from Tazuna, away from everything, her hands clawing at her own face as if to wipe the memory from her eyes.
The reality of being a shinobi, a concept she had romanticized for years, had just introduced itself to her not with glory or adventure, but with the brutal, intimate murder of a mother and child right in front of her.
The next day, the mood in the house was heavy as a tomb. Sasuke had woken up, his body aching but his life not in danger. When he was told what had happened—the full scope of their failure—his face settled into a mask of cold, silent fury directed only at himself.
But the real casualty of the mission was Sakura. She hadn't spoken a word since her breakdown. She just sat in a corner, staring at nothing, flinching at any sudden movement.
On the morning of their third day, she approached Kakashi. Her eyes were red-rimmed and empty. Her voice was a quiet, broken whisper.
"Sensei," she began, her voice trembling. "I saw it. I was right there. I was supposed to protect him… and they… they were cut down right in front of me." She took a shuddering breath. "I can't… I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong enough for this world. I quit."
Naruto, who was sitting nearby, shot to his feet. "What?! Sakura-chan, you can't quit! We're a team! We just had a tough mission, that's all!"
"Tough?" Sakura's voice cracked, a flicker of her old fire mixed with raw pain. "Naruto, they were murdered! A little boy… his mom… and I just stood there! This isn't a game. This isn't about being cool or getting Sasuke-kun's attention. This is a world of blood and death, and I don't belong in it."
Sasuke scoffed from his futon. "Hn. Weak." He turned away, his word a blade, but it was a reflection of his own harsh worldview. Those who couldn't handle it were destined to be culled.
Deva said nothing. He looked at Sakura, at the genuine, soul-deep horror in her eyes, and he understood completely. This wasn't a failure of will. It was a fundamental incompatibility. Her spirit was not made for this life. He felt a pang of sadness for her, for the girl who had entered the mission dreaming of romance and was leaving it with nightmares.
Kakashi looked at his student, and his heart was heavy with a profound sense of failure. He had pushed them too hard, exposed them to a reality he should have protected them from. He had broken her. "I understand, Sakura," he said, his voice grim. "I will inform the Hokage upon our return."
The remaining week passed in a heavy silence. Team 7 was now just three boys. The bento pact felt hollow. What was a rivalry when weighed against the real cost of their profession?
Deva found some time alone to process the data he had acquired. He replicated the Hidden Mist Jutsu, the grim trophy from the battle. He also cautiously reached for the frequency he had copied from Naruto. The instant he focused on it, a wave of pure, malevolent hatred washed over him, so powerful it made him feel sick. He recoiled, walling it off. It was an ugly, corrupting power he wanted no part of.
On their last day, the town gathered to see them off. Tazuna, though still a ghost of a man, named the completed bridge "The Great Naruto Bridge" in honor of the boy whose spirit had inspired them to fight back. It was a moment of bittersweet honor.
The farewell was somber. As the three boys and their sensei prepared to leave, Sakura stood with them, her headband now gone, packed away in her bag. She would return to Konoha with them, but her shinobi career was over before it had truly begun.
They walked away from the bridge as a broken team. They had saved a nation but had failed to save a family. They had defeated their enemies but had lost one of their own, not to a blade, but to the sheer, crushing weight of what it means to be a shinobi. What remained of Team 7 was smaller, harder, and more volatile than ever before.