Chapter 13: The Calm Before the Storm

[Haruno Residence – Hidden Leaf Village]

The water in the tub was hot enough to sting.

Steam drifted toward the ceiling, curling at the corners of the cracked tile. Sakura leaned back into the porcelain, neck resting against the damp edge, her long pink hair pinned up in a loose knot to avoid the water. She exhaled through her nose, eyes closed, the scent of chamomile bath salts faint in the fog.

Seven days.

She hadn't counted them aloud, but the number throbbed quietly in her ribs. Seven days since she submitted her leave form. Seven since the mission. Seven since the blood dried on her gloves.

It should've been enough.

The bruises were gone. The cuts healed. Her chakra lines had settled from their overexertion, and her strength—her precision—had already returned.

She could lie to Tsunade right now and get deployed again. No one would question it. On paper, she was fine.

But that was paper. This—her skin, her silence—was flesh.

She ran her fingers slowly along her left forearm. There was a scar there—shallow and silvery. A line only she remembered.

She'd gotten it during the Chūnin Exams.

The fight with the Sound team. She remembered the adrenaline, the fury, the way her kunais moved like extensions of her own breath. But that cut—it came from a hesitation. A second of doubt. She bled for it.

Now she wasn't sure if she could even feel that kind of hesitation anymore.

Her hand drifted lower, past her ribs, toward another scar—older. From her Genin days. From a mission with Naruto and Sasuke. A mistake. A minor wound. But it had been the first time she'd seen her own blood in the field.

Back then, it shocked her.

Now, she barely blinked.

She submerged her shoulders, and the water rippled with a slow sigh. The heat didn't burn anymore.

It just surrounded her.

---

Sakura stepped down the stairs slowly, toweling her damp hair. Her long strands were still warm from the bath. Her combat gear clung to her frame: a wrapped, scarlet tunic styled after a yukata, reaching just above her shin, parted by a high slit along one leg for movement. It was cinched at the waist with a reinforced sash and paired with elbow-length gloves and shinobi leggings. The design gave her the air of a dancer—or a killer—depending on who was looking.

At the kitchen counter, Mebuki Haruno was slicing preserved radish over warm rice.

She looked more like Sakura's older sister than her mother—pale pink hair, cropped short like Sakura's Genin days, and a face that barely bore the weight of her years. Strangers often did a double take when they saw them together. It had become something of a running joke.

"You heading out?" Mebuki asked, still focused on her cutting.

Sakura adjusted her gloves. "Yeah. Tenten's shop. Maybe swing by the tower."

Mebuki scraped the blade clean on the edge of the board, glancing over. "Tell Tenling her daughter owes me tea. She promised weeks ago."

Sakura offered a faint smile. "I'll guilt-trip her a little."

"Not too much," Mebuki said, softer this time. "You could use a quiet day."

Sakura finished fastening her boots and moved toward the door.

"I'll eat something later," she said preemptively.

Mebuki didn't argue. "There's still broth from last night."

Sakura's hand paused on the knob.

Her mother added gently, "You don't have to do anything yet, you know."

"I know."

Mebuki's eyes returned to the knife. "Just... don't forget that."

Sakura didn't look back. But the grip on her gloves tightened.

"I won't."

---

[Flying Dragon Forge –Hidden Leaf Village]

The shop was older than most in the district, tucked between a scroll-publisher's office and a spice vendor who always overcooked his anise bulbs. The sliding door bore old battle-worn seals along the frame, protective charms faded from years of summer sun and spring rain.

Sakura stepped inside, the bell above the frame ringing gently.

The scent of bamboo oil and chilled steel greeted her like an old friend.

From behind the curtain leading to the back, a familiar voice called out warmly.

"Sakura-chan? Is that you?"

Sakura stepped forward. "Good morning, Tenling-san."

The older woman emerged with a polishing rag still in hand, her hair tied into a loose braid that framed her kind features. Despite the subtle grays lining her temples, there was a sharpness in her eyes that hadn't dulled one bit.

"Well, look at you," Tenling said, taking Sakura in with an affectionate smile. "I heard you were on leave. You holding up alright?"

Sakura nodded once. "Getting there."

"That's all anyone can ask for." She gave Sakura's arm a gentle pat. "You've always come back tougher than you left."

There was a pause, just long enough to soften the air.

"Oh," Sakura added, lightly. "Also—Mom says Tenten still owes her tea."

Tenling laughed. "Still? I told her not to promise if she couldn't follow through. Alright, I'll give her the message. Maybe that'll guilt her into actually brewing it next time."

Sakura smirked. "Please do."

She glanced toward the back. "Is Tenten around?"

"She's out training," Tenling replied, motioning with the rag. "Lee and Neji dragged her to the northern field early this morning. Guy-sensei, too, of course."

Sakura blinked. "Guy-shishō too? That early?"

Tenling chuckled. "He said something about 'youthful synergy' and then did a handstand through the back door. Haven't seen him since."

Sakura gave a dry chuckle at that. "He trained me too, you know."

"Oh, I know. You and his ridiculous 'gravity harness sessions.'" Tenling gave her a look. "You came back from those with bruises the size of scrolls."

"Built character," Sakura said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's what all the crazy ones say," Tenling teased.

There was a comfortable beat of silence.

"She'll be back later, I think," Tenling continued. "If you're sticking around, I can make tea."

Sakura shook her head. "I won't be long. Just needed a few things."

Tenling nodded and stepped aside, letting her through to the main aisle. "Help yourself, dear. Holler if you need anything sharp."

---

[Northern Training Field – Hidden Leaf Village]

The echo of rhythmic shouting carried through the trees long before the clearing came into view.

Sakura stepped out into the sunlit glade, her scarlet combat tunic catching the breeze just enough to trail behind her like a banner. The air was thick with heat, chakra, and Guy's voice.

"YOUTHFUL IGNITION!"

She smiled.

It had been a while since she'd heard that kind of noise.

Rock Lee came spinning down from midair in a flaming somersault, slamming the ground with a shockwave that flattened the grass around him. A small crater formed beneath his heel. A heartbeat later, Guy appeared behind him in a horse stance, slapping his palms together and nodding.

"YES! THAT'S THE KIND OF PASSION THAT SCORCHES THE CLOUDS!"

Near the field's edge, Tenten was halfway through resetting her scroll launcher, sweat glistening on her arms. Neji stood nearby with his arms crossed, impassive as ever, though the corner of his mouth twitched when Guy yelled again.

Sakura strolled in with a wave and a grin.

"Hope I'm not interrupting the holy rites of the Springtime Youth Church."

Tenten looked up and beamed. "Sakura!"

Neji turned, offering a subtle nod. "You're out early."

"I'm dressed, I'm walking, and I haven't stabbed anyone in a week. That's early by my standards."

Tenten laughed, strolling over and tugging playfully at the edge of Sakura's sash. "You pull off scarlet better than anyone. Always have."

"Gotta stay on brand," Sakura replied with mock pride. "Scarlet terror and all that."

Tenten elbowed her. "Still terrifying, I see."

"Don't pretend you don't love it."

Neji cleared his throat.

Sakura turned, cheekily raising a brow. "Miss me, Neji?"

"Every moment," he deadpanned. "Especially the ones where you weren't trying to weaponize household objects."

"Hey, that frying pan wasn't supposed to break. You ducked late."

Before Neji could reply, Guy came bounding over—grinning with a sunbeam's intensity.

"SAKURA!" he declared, striking a pose. "You have returned to the field with the full bloom of crimson elegance! Your aura is practically vibrating!"

"Good to see you too, Guy-shishō."

He clasped her shoulder with pride. "Tell me—how does the storm rest?"

"It doesn't," she said simply, and that answer seemed to please him even more.

Lee finally walked over. His expression was polite, but his shoulders were stiff. He met her eyes, but only briefly.

"Lee," she said with a slight smirk. "Back on your feet already?"

"Of course," he said quickly. "I never fell."

She tilted her head. "Hm. That's not what the mission report said."

He flinched slightly.

"I'm kidding," she added, leaning forward a bit. "Quite an impression though, huh? Brutal diplomacy."

Lee's mouth opened, then closed. "It was… difficult."

"Yeah. I saw your face," she teased lightly. "Thought I'd eaten a baby in front of you or something."

Tenten looked away, clearing her throat.

Sakura grinned. "Relax, Lee. I'm not that far gone."

Guy clapped his hands together.

"Well then!" he said. "If you're both here and limber, why not face each other in a youthful spar? One round! For practice! For memory!"

Lee blinked. "Sakura and I?"

Sakura turned to him, her smile widening. "What's the matter? Afraid of a little bloodletting?"

He straightened instantly. "Never."

"Then try me," she said, stepping forward, her gloves flexing as she rolled her shoulders. "Bare hands. Old school."

The match began seconds later.

---

They clashed in a blur of motion—Lee moving with precision, Sakura baiting and snapping with evasive agility. The rhythm was familiar, but her style had shifted. Her footwork tighter. Reactions cleaner. Every time she smiled, it wasn't out of joy—but instinct.

Lee went on the offensive, pushing her toward the edge of the clearing with a sweeping flurry of kicks. Sakura blocked, dodged, countered—but her steps began to slow.

Lee frowned. "You're holding back."

"Oh?" she said between breaths. "Wasn't sure if you could handle the full thing."

He lunged—and she let him get close.

"Go on then," she whispered as they locked for a second. "Say it."

Lee hesitated.

"Say what's on your mind," she continued, smiling too widely. "The look you gave me that night, remember? When I buried a blade in that man's spine and laughed?"

Lee gritted his teeth. "It wasn't laughter—it was madness."

"Then hit me for it."

He did.

The blow cracked across her shoulder and sent her spinning backward, skidding through the grass.

The moment she rose—something changed.

Her breath deepened. Her eyes narrowed. Her body coiled like a spring. And that smile?

Gone.

What rose in its place was a twitching grin—wild, feral, almost eager.

Then she moved.

It wasn't graceful. It wasn't technical.

It was art in motion.

A spiral of movement. A raw, spiraling ballet of violence. The kind that made even her bloodlust seem choreographed—elegant, even. Her footwork danced between broken rhythm and trained instinct, striking like a whip, recoiling like a ribbon.

Even without her kusarigama, her arms flowed like silk and snapped like wire.

Lee tried to follow her—he really did—but every strike was unpredictable. Every feint blurred the line between wild instinct and perfect form.

"She's…" Neji muttered, eyes following her rapid pivot.

Tenten couldn't look away. "Dancing."

Lee grunted, blocking another jab to his ribs. Then a knee to the gut. Then a sweeping leg hook that nearly dropped him.

He stayed up.

Barely.

But she kept pressing, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleaming with something between clarity and chaos. The hem of her scarlet yukata flared with each step, like the petals of a flower blooming in blood.

Lee caught her wrist—just once—but she twisted, pivoted, and slipped around behind him.

He was about to counter—

And then Guy was there.

A thunderous blur of motion.

He appeared between them, one palm stopping Sakura's arm just before it drove into Lee's ribs, the other catching Lee's rising elbow before it could slam into her side.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Guy bellowed—not out of anger, but passion.

Sakura blinked, blood singing in her veins.

Then Guy looked at her—eyes wide, grinning like a proud parent.

"Magnificent," he whispered, voice trembling. "So fluid… so precise… like a storm channeled through a silk ribbon!"

He gripped her shoulders gently.

"That final sweep—it came from the 'Four-Step Spiral Form' I taught you two years ago! YOU REMEMBERED IT!" He sniffled, wiping a tear from his cheek with his thumb. "Even in the crimson haze… my teachings live on!"

Sakura blinked again. Her breathing slowed.

Guy turned to Lee, slapping a hand on his back.

"And YOU! Standing your ground! Catching her strike! That was youth in its purest form! I'm so proud I could SHATTER MY OWN BONES FROM JOY!"

Lee, panting, gave a shaky smile. "She almost broke mine."

Guy laughed heartily, still holding them both at arm's length, holding the moment steady like a frame in a painting.

But Sakura slowly stepped back. Her expression calmed—but there was no apology. Just… breath. The storm in her body retreating into stillness.

Guy let go.

The adrenaline was still there—burning behind her ribs, whispering to the edges of her mind.

She felt the heat in her cheeks. The tremble in her fingertips.

But her lips pulled into a grin. Smooth. Measured. As if none of it had happened.

She clapped her hands once. "Alright, that's all for me folks."

Tenten blinked. "Wait, what—"

"That was a nice warm-up," Sakura continued, voice breezy. "Loved the energy. Really wholesome."

Neji tilted his head, uncertain.

Guy gave her a thumbs up, still beaming.

Lee stood still, catching his breath.

Sakura turned on her heel. "Gotta go now. Byyeeee."

But the moment her back was fully turned, her lips twitched. The smile faltered, just for a second. She bit her lower lip gently—a poor distraction from the ache coiling in her stomach.

It ended too fast.

She hadn't purged it all.

The taste still lingered.

Her bloodlust hadn't subsided. It had only recoiled—waiting.

Waiting for the next opportunity.

"HEY! WHY THE HURRY?!" Tenten called after her.

Sakura didn't stop walking. Just raised her hand again, still in the air, two fingers flashing once more like punctuation on a sentence she didn't dare finish.

Peace.

Even if it wasn't real.

Not yet.

And with that, she vanished through the trees, the scarlet of her tunic flickering between branches like a dying flame.

The others stood in silence.

The training field, once alive with shouts and stomping feet, fell still again.

But this time, the stillness carried something else.

A question.

And no one had the answer.

---

The silence that followed Sakura's exit lingered like dust in the air—shaken, unsettled, drifting.

Then Lee dropped to his knees, and promptly collapsed onto his back, panting like he'd just gone toe-to-toe with a ferocious hellhound and barely escaped with his soul intact.

"Sweet—sweet youth," he gasped between ragged breaths. "She tried to kill me."

Neji, still standing near the edge of the ring, crossed his arms and exhaled quietly through his nose.

"That ended... abruptly."

Lee's head lolled to the side, giving Neji a half-glare. "Well, how about you try fighting her next time, Neji."

The rare sarcasm in Lee's voice made even Tenten's eyebrows rise. Neji looked momentarily surprised too—but not offended.

"I'd rather watch," Neji said calmly. "Her form was... remarkable."

He paused, his expression thoughtful, almost entranced.

"It wasn't just efficient. It was like watching a rare art form—an ancient scroll of war choreography come to life. If her movements could be captured on canvas, they would be preserved in a museum."

Tenten gave him a sideways look. "Okay, creep."

Neji blinked. "What?"

"You're talking about her like she's a haunted painting."

"She moves like one," he replied smoothly.

Guy chuckled—but the sound had a nervous edge, like a kettle left too long on the stove.

"Well! That was certainly... more than I expected," he said, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. "But... I stand by my decision to stop it when I did. Good call, if I do say so myself!"

His tone lifted, but his eyes were still staring at the spot Sakura had stood.

"Lee, you held your ground like a true warrior of spirit. I am so proud of you I could ignite the air around me!" he boomed, clapping Lee on the shoulder hard enough to jolt the poor boy's lungs.

Lee wheezed. "Thanks... sensei…"

Guy's smile twitched slightly.

"But Sakura…" he continued, "She used the Spiral Four-Step Form like it was second nature. Twisted it. Refined it. Her footwork's tighter than ever. Her rhythm has a syncopation I didn't teach, but it makes the whole thing flow like a stream over jagged rocks."

There was pride in his voice. Real pride.

And also concern.

"Even unarmed, she could've ended that fight. No doubt in my mind. Maybe..." he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. "Maybe I trained her a bit too hard."

Tenten snorted softly. "You think?"

"She insisted, even until now, sometimes." Guy said, his voice quieter now. "Back then, she came to me out of nowhere. Said I had to push her. Harder than anyone else. Said she'd fall apart if I didn't."

That made them all pause.

Even Neji, whose brows knit ever so slightly.

"She said she wanted strength like Lee...and Naruto who I also briefly taught" Guy added with a nostalgic smile. "But it was more than that. Like she had to claw her way toward it. Or she'd die trying."

Lee looked up, finally managing to sit upright. Sweat dripped from his chin.

"I always admired that," he said. "But... now I'm not sure if it saved her. Or broke something inside."

Guy nodded, a rare solemnity in his eyes.

"They call her the Dancer of Blood," he said softly. "And it's not a moniker she asked for. But when she moves... they remember her. Every last one of them."

The wind stirred the trees again.

And for a moment, even the chirping of birds seemed reluctant to return.

---

[Path to the Hokage's Tower – Hidden Leaf Village]

Sakura walked alone, the worn path beneath her feet leading uphill through familiar corridors of wood and shadow.

The trees were tall here—old, and quiet. They didn't whisper like the newer groves outside the village. These ones listened. Always had.

She didn't speak.

Her boots clicked gently over the stone, her long sleeves brushing her sides, her tunic catching the wind. The fabric still carried the scent of the field—dust, sweat, the faint iron of blood that only she could still taste.

She bit her lip again.

That craving hadn't gone. It never really did. Not after the haze. Not after the fall.

But she'd hidden it well. Laughed when she had to. Played the fool. Walked away like she always could.

And now—she walked toward something else.

The Hokage's tower loomed ahead, sunlit and silent.

She exhaled once, shoulders squaring.

"Alright," she muttered. "Time to be normal."

And then she climbed the steps, alone—scarlet against stone, with only the wind at her back.

---

[Hokage's Office – Hidden Leaf Village]

Sakura stepped inside without knocking.

The scent of ink, wood polish, and cheap rice wine hung heavy in the air. Papers cluttered Tsunade's desk, barely organized into sections. A map of the Lightning border sat half-unrolled near the window, weighed down by a cup of sencha gone cold.

"Granny," Sakura called casually. "You're drowning in paperwork again. Should I fetch you a lifeline or a fire?"

Tsunade didn't look up.

"Depends which one clears an envoy faster."

"Send me instead," Sakura said, strolling up to the desk. "I speak fluent threat."

Tsunade finally glanced up. Her sharp, gold eyes scanned Sakura—taking in the posture, the tone, the casual mask. Not judging. Just observing.

"You're still wearing field gear," she noted.

Sakura smirked. "Wasn't planning to stay long."

"I assume the bruises on Lee's shoulder are your doing?"

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "That was half an hour ago."

"I signed his med file ten minutes ago," Tsunade said flatly. "He insisted it was a 'glorious exchange of youthful ideals.' But I saw the contusions."

Sakura huffed. "Still not my fault he blocked wrong."

Tsunade didn't answer. Just reached for a pen and made a slow correction on the document in front of her.

"You didn't come here to spar with me," she said at last.

"No," Sakura replied. Her tone shifted slightly. "I came to ask something."

Tsunade paused her writing.

"I want to know if there's a seal," Sakura said. "Something that can limit it. The bloodlust."

Tsunade's hand stopped.

"Not remove it," Sakura clarified. "Just… dull the edge. Mute the part that wants to keep going even after it's done."

Silence again.

"You're not afraid you'll lose control?" Tsunade asked.

"I'm afraid I won't."

That earned a sharper glance.

Sakura met it.

"I'm afraid I'll get used to it. That I already have."

Tsunade leaned back in her chair, arms crossing loosely. She watched Sakura—not as a superior, but as someone who understood exactly what she meant.

"You think sealing it makes you safer?"

Sakura shook her head. "No. I think it makes me slower. And I want that. I want to have to think. I want to second-guess it."

A beat passed.

Tsunade reached for her tea. Took a sip. Grimaced.

"There are techniques," she admitted. "But they're volatile. Risky for someone even with perfect control. It'll hurt. And if it fails, it won't be pretty."

Sakura nodded once.

"I'll handle it."

Tsunade studied her again. Not the words. The girl behind them.

"You always wanted strength," she said. "But now you wield it like it's chained to you."

Sakura's fingers flexed faintly, the fabric of her fingerless gloves stretched taut over her forearm.

"I asked you to train me once," she said quietly. "Not to be strong. But to be undeniable. I just didn't realize that meant I'd stop questioning myself."

Tsunade exhaled slowly through her nose.

"I'll look into it."

Sakura smiled—grateful, but still tense.

"Thanks, Granny."

"Don't thank me yet." Tsunade glanced toward her scroll rack. "If it works, it'll feel like your soul's caught fire. If it doesn't, you might wish it had."

Sakura turned to leave.

"Oh—and one more thing."

She paused.

"Try not to enjoy your next mission so much."

Sakura gave a faint grin over her shoulder. "No promises."

And with that, she walked out—scarlet tunic swaying behind her like a curtain closing on something unsaid.