empathy (rewritten 2019)

chapter one

birth

The day March 28 arrived the winds started slowing, slowing down to gentle gods' fingers that caressed the birth of budding new cherry blossoms and carried them through the streets of Konoha from their frail branches. The air was soft and full of new life, born from the watery remains of snow and ice. And from that, Sakura Haruno was born, just as those blossoms were, just as the fertility of Konoha was. She was born in the movement of the butterflies and the birds, in the evolution of greenery and new life.

Her parents named her after that greenery, those budding blossoms, the new Konoha. They chose the most fragile, the most fleeting flowers for their daughter, ones that hung onto branches timidly before drifting to the ground just days after their blooming. Sakura always despised that; as though it were her own fate to fall to the ground, moments after her highest reach. She would bloom and unleash a fragile beauty, before inevitably losing her grip, succumbing to the treacherous pulls of gravity and wind and demise.

Which was why, the moment she was born, she was doomed to fall.

childhood lies

Sakura reached the height where she could notice people. The first person she noticed was a tall, built woman, her brown hair slung into a low bun. Her hands swung purposefully by her side, swinging beside the beige pouch strapped to her torso, and she maneuvered throughout the streets with graceful haste. The passersby, aware of her presence, nodded and smiled with respect.

And by five years Sakura had reached the age where other children could laugh and mock and tease her. The first remark they made of her was her absurdly colored hair, then her wide forehead, and they repeated it day after day. She yearned for those kids to look at her the same way those people on the streets looked at that woman--with respect, admiration, consideration.

She told her mother, "Kaa-chan, that woman with the green jacket, who is she?" She pointed as the stranger, speedily, walked past.

"Don't point, Sakura," her mother pulled the hand down, straightening Sakura's sleeves. "She's a kunoichi, a trained ninja. She protects the village."

"Is that why the people look at her like that?"

Her mother nodded. "Yes. Why?"

The woman was gone but her image was deeply ingrained within Sakura's mind. The way she walked, she stared and carved a path through the crowd. "I want to be like her! A kunoichi!"

The dream was set and despite how profusely her mother protested, Sakura decided. Her mother, watching her beam and smile and yell, tried a soft smile. She caressed Sakura's pink hair, brushing it gently, as though she were a budding blossom, its grip loose on the branch, and her mother was only trying to stop its fall.

young love

Sakura was set for the Academy. She fit all the requirements; to hold love for the village, to work for its peace and prosperity, to be healthy in mind and body, and to work despite exhaustion. She loved her village, she was kept healthy, and across all academic studies she perversed hard--disregarding Taijutsu.

Her teachers liked her; telling her parents about her advanced studies, her perfect chakra control, her keen eyes. As long as you stay focused, they said, you can pass the exam.

She tried--she tried, oh, so hard, but the moment she laid eyes on one young, raven-haired boy, she began to fall. A swarm of girls always followed him and the more she questioned it the more she began to realize why. She was infatuated, driven by the thought that maybe, maybe this silent, sharp boy could notice her, just as she noticed him.

Between dresses and more books, she would not be able to buy both. And so she chose. Her mother was wrong; a dream to be kunoichi was only her budding, but this boy--he was part of her many falls.

fall

Her teachers noticed her slowing down, wondering why she has fallen short.

And her parents noticed her growing up, watching her bring home more headbands to cover her forehead and new perfumes and new dresses and bows and more and more.

Her classmates noticed her growing thinner, skinnier, and even then they teased, pulled and mocked and tore.

And she never noticed how often she stood in the mirror, staring at herself, wondering what to lose and what to gain. How often she found herself tired, tired after running after the young boy, tired after trying to wear and look her best.

No one noticed her, young and frail, losing her grip.

...---...

Old friend,

during my breathing i spent nights awake

restless

eyes kept wide by the memories of regrets and guilt and pain and loneliness

i spent days watching

waiting

for new light.

maybe i have been selfish,

for restless awake wide nights are now spent

by you

and days of waiting and watching are now spent

by you

we promised each other so much

yet what i left for you was so little

i'm so sorry

but pain is pain and death is only life

my sorries become your regrets and my future ends where others' begin

and my broken promises and my broken bones lie the same

just as i have lied to you.

i'm so sorry.