Chapter 67: Sakura's Road
"I'm home!"
Sakura pushed the front door open and dropped into the entryway, kicking her shoes off. She caught herself reaching to shove them aside, and instead — automatically, muscle-memory of a thousand reminders over however many years — set them neatly in the rack.
Mom's voice lives in my head rent-free.
"Sakura — you're sure everything's okay?"
Karin was watching her line up the shoes with an expression somewhere between uncertain and quietly reassured.
"It's fine. You'll stay here until the residency paperwork clears — after the exam wraps, shouldn't be long." Sakura waved off the worry. "Old man's word opens the door, but the process still runs. Standard investigation, a few checkpoints. Nothing to stress about."
"Okay."
Karin copied her, placing her own shoes in the rack with careful precision, and followed her inside.
She paused in the entryway. The house was lived-in — small touches everywhere, the kind of home that had accumulated itself over years of actual life. Something in Karin's expression went briefly somewhere else.
Nobody saw what she was thinking.
Sakura had promised her something. Sakura had delivered it.
"You could've told me you were coming back." Mebuki's voice carried from the kitchen. "Go out and buy some groceries. We're low on everything."
"Mom, I brought someone. She's staying with us for a bit."
Sakura leaned against the doorframe. Karin hovered at her shoulder.
"Um — hello. I'm Karin—"
Mebuki looked up from the cutting board, looked at Karin, looked at Sakura.
Sakura had never once brought anyone home. In four years of being a ninja, taking on a master, doing whatever it was she did that nobody talked about — not once. Mebuki set down the knife.
Karin shifted her weight under the scrutiny.
"Sakura hasn't given you any trouble, has she?"
The warmth in Mebuki's voice came out of nowhere. Karin blinked.
"No! No, it's — I'm the one who's been trouble—"
"Good. Four for dinner tonight then. Sakura, go get more from the market — Yamaji's stall, not the one by the gate, his produce is better." And then Mebuki was pulling Karin toward the kitchen, asking about dietary preferences, whether she ran hot or cold, how she felt about spicy food.
Karin sent a slightly panicked look back over her shoulder.
Sakura mouthed: this is normal.
That night
Sakura lay on her back looking at the stars through her window.
Karin had the guest room. The Harunos had taken her in without ceremony — less welcoming and more simply matter-of-fact about it, which was somehow better.
I've been too independent, apparently. That was the running complaint. Her parents occasionally mentioned, with the wounded air of people who had been denied a fundamental parenting experience, that she had never needed enough help to feel like a proper child. Sorry about that.
Next morning
Karin had left early — the residency check-in process meant daily appearances at the relevant village office until clearance came through.
Sakura sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, hair doing whatever it wanted, feet swinging, eating the breakfast her mother had made.
When did I last have a morning like this?
Four years of ANBU, missions, the economic warfare long game, the exam — she genuinely couldn't remember the last time she'd had nowhere to be before noon.
"Eat faster. When you're done, wash up, sweep the floor, take out the trash, and pick up groceries on your way back."
Mebuki materialized beside her, hands on hips, surveying her daughter's sprawl with expert disapproval.
"Don't just buy what you like."
"Yeah, yeah."
"I mean it!"
"I've got somewhere to be this afternoon, so I'll be out. Don't make dinner for me."
"Fine." Mebuki turned — and stopped. Her eyes had landed on the shoe rack. Both pairs, neatly aligned.
She didn't say anything else.
Sakura did the dishes. Swept the floor. Took out the trash. Bought the groceries.
She also, on pure instinct, grabbed a container of strawberries from the market — Mebuki's favorite.
The return home produced a noticeable softening around her mother's eyes and a muttered "you're finally growing up" that Sakura chose not to respond to verbally.
She offered to help with lunch prep and was immediately evicted from the kitchen. She relocated to the couch, found the remote, and pulled up what was playing.
Princess Fuji in the Snow — apparently the current big theatrical release in Fire Country. The lead actress, Fujikaze Yukina, was everywhere lately.
Sakura stretched out on the cushions, propped her head up, and watched.
This afternoon: bathhouse tour. Waiting for that perverted old man to surface.
She let her mind drift while the movie played.
She had everything Wartime Sakura had. That was the foundation — and it was a good foundation. Solid mid-Kage tier on an honest assessment, without counting Enma. Better than most. Still a notch below Tsunade.
Though that comparison was fundamentally unfair.
Tsunade's grandfather was Hashirama Senju. Her grandmother was Mito Uzumaki. Senju blood plus Uzumaki blood — the two most absurdly chakra-blessed lineages in shinobi history, stacked. What was Sakura supposed to do about that? She was a civilian-born with no kekkei genkai and no clan techniques.
This bloodline world is exhausting.
Her own teammates: one Uzumaki, one Uchiha. Both Otsutsuki reincarnations, because apparently the universe had opinions. In three years, from genin to Six Paths tier.
If she wanted to stay ahead of that curve, she needed to stop trying to win on the same axis and find different ground.
She'd thought about Shikkotsu Forest's Sage Mode.
She'd thought about it, and filed it under absolutely not, at least not yet.
The Shikkotsu method was, on paper, straightforward: there was a pool of natural energy in liquid form. You got in. You survived. You came out capable of Sage Mode — if you came out. Compared to Mount Myōboku's method, which at least involved patient frog mentors and gradual training, the Slug Sage's approach was essentially here is an acid bath of concentrated natural energy, good luck. Even Tsunade — granddaughter of the God of Shinobi — didn't have Sage Mode, which said everything about the difficulty curve.
I want to live a few more years.
Even with Hundred Healings running, Sakura wasn't certain she'd survive the pool. Not certain enough.
So: Sage Mode was a future problem. The near-term path ran through Yang Release and expanding what Hundred Healings could do — and for that, she needed Tsunade back.
Two people in living memory had pushed the boundaries of medical ninjutsu and Yang Release as far as they could go: Hashirama Senju and Tsunade. When Tsunade came back, Sakura intended to have a very long conversation. Pull in Hiruzen, pull in Jiraiya, dig through whatever records existed of Hashirama and the Uzumaki clan's healing arts —
One person's mind only goes so far. Bring in everyone.
On screen, Princess Fuji was making some kind of speech in the snow. Sakura watched her without really watching.
Come home, Tsunade.
We have a lot of work to do.
(End of Chapter 67)