NARUTO: The Year Winter Followed Spring [Tobirama/Sakura]

[moor]

A snippet of a WIP while I edit and finish writing it. Many, many thanks to sariasprincy  and mspixiepixie for their beta help! 

Based on an idea I started working on years ago that I picked up again recently. 

 Pairing: Tobirama/Sakura

Setting: Modern Fae-ish AU

Rating: T for now; M later

 

 

Sakura’s brow furrowed as she listened to her receptionist.

“No, I’m sure I didn’t book anyone in for this afternoon,” replied Sakura after thinking for a minute.

“He’s quite adamant that he has an appointment with you today,” insisted Nami.

Sakura sighed, rubbing her throbbing temples. “I’ll come see.” 

Nami was eight months pregnant and preparing for her leave; she did not deserve to be on the receiving end of anyone’s bad day. Sakura shook her head as she locked her computer and made her way to the waiting room.

Her cardiac practice was a short distance from the hospital and she had been enjoying a well-deserved sabbatical while she prepared for her next term of resident mentorship. While she assisted with high-priority cardiac surgeries or consults, her work for the last several weeks had been primarily research-based. There was always something new developing somewhere; if she was going to stay on top of her profession, she had to adapt with it. Her expertise in anything related to the cardiopulmonary system was unparalleled. (Ino had riled her more than once that for being such an expert in matters of the heart, Sakura struggled when it came to the emotions the heart supposedly controlled. According to Ino, Sakura must study her own heart better.) Sakura’s need to know everything, be able to fix anything, related to the heart was insatiable; as such, she took a sabbatical to ensure she was at the top of her game at all times.

But not everyone had been supportive of her temporary reduction in duties. Like the former hospital director, Hashirama Senju. He had tried to convince her to put her research sabbatical off—again—for the ‘betterment of the community’. Luckily, Sakura’s mentor—and Hashirama’s cousin—put her foot down.

“She’s no good to anyone if she’s the one on the table, Hashirama!”

Or that’s what the clean version of what Tsunade had said was. The original was more colourful. And graphic. And involved Hashirama’s entrails being removed and reinserted in unorthodox ways and orifices that Sakura found potentially quite impressive. 

And that had been the end of Hashirama bothering her while she was at the hospital.

… only now Hashirama came around to her private office nearly weekly to bother and try to wheedle her into picking up extra shifts, covering other surgeons’ vacation time, coming back early... 

“I understand that you want to remain the foremost expert in your field, Sakura,” had pleaded Hashirama. “But there are other meaningful, healthy pursuits that would help you, too. If you need a short break, you could do other things! Maybe go for a walk on a trail, or get a nice plant to take care of, read a book in a cottage for a weekend... instead of a year…”

It never ended. Sakura had been tempted to sic Tsunade on him again, but decided against it. Sakura needed to stick up for herself more if she was going to be respected. 

Now she threw him out herself.

But Nami knew Sakura’s regulars. She kept excellent track of Sakura’s appointments, so to hear that someone new had arrived and pressed for her attention surprised Sakura.

The face that met Sakura’s when she entered her waiting room was unknown. There was a familiarity to it, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“I’m Dr Haruno,” said Sakura, striding forward to shake the man’s hand. “How can I help you?”

The tall, handsome man gave her a critical once over that grated on Sakura’s nerves, but she forced a smile. He shook her hand, his mien serious.

He looked dismissively at Nami and Sakura mentally counted to ten.

“Would you mind holding my calls for the next few minutes, please?” said Sakura with a smile to Nami. “I’ll reply to everything before I leave today. Let me know immediately if the faculty calls.”

With a grateful nod, Nami smiled back at Sakura.

Turning back to her guest, Sakura was again struck by some familiar chord that resonated through her, too distantly to place the note. What was it about this stiff, serious man that niggled at her so much?

Well, it looked like she would need to pursue her inquiry behind closed doors to get anything out of him, if his tight lips were anything to go by.
“This way, please,” said Sakura, ushering him through the waiting room and down the halls to her office.

Once in the office, Sakura closed the door before they took their seats, he in front of her desk and she behind it. She pulled up her case files, ready to search.

“You mentioned to my assistant that you had an appointment with me today? Unfortunately we don’t have a record of it. Would you mind filling in a few blanks for me please with your name, the purpose of your visit? Was there perhaps a referral that went astray?” asked Sakura, aiming for pleasantness. 

The man's intelligent crimson eyes pierced Sakura through the heart when she looked up at him from behind the screen. Her mouth went dry as a shiver of familiarity ran down her spine. This man had seen things. Had done things. And he made her think that she had, too.

You…

She knew this man.

And yet, she couldn’t remember him.

It was on the tip of her tongue to question him again, but she reigned herself in, waiting for his answers to her initial questions. 

“My name is Tobirama Senju. There is no referral,” he answered, his crimson eyes watching her steadily.

Senju? That was too specific to be a coincidence.

“Are you related to Hashirama or Tsunade?” asked Sakura.

Personal. That question had been entirely personal and she normally never would have asked. But something about him compelled her. She wanted to ask him more, but reeled in her curiosity. 

“Hashirama is my elder brother. Tsunade is my cousin.”

His voice captivated her. It was low and faintly gravelly, as if he didn’t speak often. The deepness resonated through the room and Sakura, stretching its reach and finding little nooks and crannies she’d never known existed inside her before it settled itself like a warm, thick blanket against the lonely, hollow cold that she hadn’t realized had lurked there before. Taken slightly aback by the dichotomy of comfort and gravity the man evoked in her, Sakura returned her focus to his words to ground herself.

“Ah, I am acquainted with them both, professionally,” said Sakura with genuine fondness. “What brings you here today?”

Her mind puzzled over Tobirama’s appearance in her office. She typed his name into her email, then her database system to see if there was any information that had been sent to her for a consult (as a favour to her mentor), but nothing turned up.

Thoroughly confused, Sakura looked back at Tobirama, only to find him still watching her carefully. The harshness she had originally interpreted in his gaze had softened, the tight lines around his eyes relaxing the longer he regarded her.

Sakura refused to shift in her seat, but the urge grew the longer Tobirama withheld his words. 

For a brief second, something tried to swim to the surface inside her, struggling beneath the weight of foggy memory and a strange, oppressive darkness she couldn’t quite see through. She hadn’t felt lonely until he walked into her office. Hadn’t realized she was cold until she felt the warm comfort of his words. She hadn’t felt the chill of unease until the softness of his eyes reassured her that all was well.
Wilder than anything else, Sakura sensed that Tobirama knew what it was, too.

Something. There was something important about him. Something familiar and peaceful but dangerous… But she couldn’t put her finger on why she thought so. She’d never met him before, she was sure of it. She would remember meeting a man so imposing; and Tobirama was more than imposing. He had done nothing more than enter her office yet his presence seemed to fill the entire room. And in spite of the danger that she felt simmering beneath his calm exterior, there was a kind of reserved warmth to him, too, in how he spoke; direct, yet not antagonistic. Simple yet not condescending.

He knew her, realized Sakura.

“You are well,” remarked Tobirama after an uncomfortably long pause.

Sakura blinked.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling politely. “What I’m trying to figure out is what I can do for you. If you have a family GP, I can contact them for your case file. I’m very sorry, but I don’t have any notes or requests that pertain to you at this time. I’m afraid I’m at a bit of a disadvantage at the moment. Could you tell me more about yourself?”

Tobirama’s expression drew inward as Sakura spoke; the relaxed lines around his mouth firming, the softness of his eyes becoming remote and distant. The warmth that had simmered beneath his surface flickered out like a candle snuffed out by a breeze. Beneath her cardigan, Sakura shivered physically.

What had changed? Had she done something wrong?

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tobirama moved gracefully to his feet. The white cashmere scarf around his neck flowed like water with him. The fluidity of his movement surprised Sakura. He’d been so conservative in his demeanour, she hadn’t noticed how agile he was when he first sat, in spite of his great height.

Instinctively Sakura stood, too, her palms face down on the desk.

“It appears there’s been a mistake,” said Tobirama. “I’ll not impose on your time any further.”

Sakura’s heart rabbitted in her chest at the implied dismissal. She grabbed Tobirama's sleeve before he could turn away and clutched it tightly between her fingers, her body reacting before her mind even realized she was moving. 

“Wait. How…how do we know each other?” she asked, trying to figure out what the right words were, what was going on, what she knew but didn’t know. The desperate edge to her words surprised her.

There.
It was so slight she would have missed it if she hadn’t been searching for it, hadn’t expected it, somehow. The hint of emotion, the shadow of softness, the barest warmth flickered behind Tobirama’s crimson eyes.

“We don’t,” he murmured.

He removed her fingers neatly, though gently, from the sleeve of his formal suit jacket.

With a final, emotionless stare he departed Sakura’s office.

“What in the hell?” muttered Sakura.
She frowned down at her computer screen, her fingers clenching on the surface of the desk.

Had she just hallucinated the past dozen minutes, of Nami calling her to deal with a pushy patient, of Tobirama being anything but pushy face to face, of him disappearing… 

It was possible. Sakura had taken her sabbatical in order to have some semblance of a break. But she’d never imagined people out of thin air.

And yet, she knew her subconscious had not conjured Tobirama out of the ether.

They hadn’t met before, had they?

Something had happened, or hadn’t?

She couldn’t remember a damn moment of it.

So why was he so familiar?

Sakura stared at the paper she was supposed to be peer reviewing on her monitor. She had re-read the same paragraph four times and still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Not that the rest of the paper had been any better; she was tempted to return it and tell the team of authors to get their shit together and quit wasting her time, but that wouldn’t be constructive and it would only waste her own time again when they resubmitted it.

Reaching for her coffee, she took a sip and grimaced. “Ugh.”

The long-cold cup thudded against the coaster as she set it down too quickly. Exhaling loudly, she counted to ten as she emptied her lungs slowly.

Inhaled for a count of eight.

Held it for five.

Exhaled for a count of ten again.

Sakura repeated the breathing exercise several times before she checked the time. She had been stuck on the same paragraph for over thirty minutes.

Deciding on a Top Ten Things to Review and Improve, Sakura penned a succinct response to the lead author, CC’ing in the rest of the team, and suggested they review the paper in full with respect to her feedback. She hit Send without remorse.
Sometimes, it was for everyone’s benefit if she took a step back. It was what had prompted her to take the sabbatical, after all. She could nitpick every part of the paper, of course; but that was doing the team’s work for them. They had to learn to identify and fix their own mistakes.

A streak of snowy hair and crimson eyes flashed in Sakura’s mind.

Now why would Tobirama Senju be back in her head, she wondered, idly curious.

Pressure built in Sakura’s chest as her teeth clenched unconsciously.

Dammit, why…why was this bothering her so much?

Sakura longed to call Hashirama or Tsunade to simply ask them, but that would be an invasion of Tobirama’s privacy. It was no business of Hashirama or Tsunade who Tobirama met with.

Staring out the window of her office, Sakura exhaled loudly. Deciding to finish off her day at a reasonable hour (for once), she let Nami know that they would be closing up at four thirty that day. 

“Is everything alright?” asked Nami.

“It’s fine. We could use a few days of regular hours,” assured Sakura.

Nami was silent for a moment before carefully asking, “Did…did something happen with the man from earlier?”

That was it, wasn’t it? Nothing had happened. And somehow that really, really upset Sakura in ways she couldn’t explain.

“No, he was a gentleman,” said Sakura honestly. “Go home and put your feet up.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Thank you very much.”

Sakura walked Nami out the door at four thirty on the nose that day, parting in the parking lot. Where Nami drove herself home, Sakura stopped at her own house only long enough to change into jeans, a flannel and hiking boots.

She needed to think; and the only place she ever found true peace was in Konoha’s old growth forests, an hour outside the gates at the north end of town. It had been far too long.

Arriving just before six, Sakura almost debated her decision to enter the forest so close to nightfall, but her restlessness compelled her forward. Tying her hair up in a ponytail and covering it with a kerchief to keep the bugs out, Sakura locked her car. She zipped up her jacket to ward off the chill, strapped on her pack, and chose the path that would skirt the rim of the plunging escarpment. 

She had been hiking the trails at this national park since her childhood and something always drew her back when she needed to ground herself. There was a special magic to forest bathing; a kinship with nature and the gentle wildness that dwelled within it.

“You’re part of it. It’s part of you,” her friend Naruto had said once in one of his random, but oddly insightful comments.

“Hm?” she had asked, looking at him as they sat atop the rocky outcropping overlooking the ravine.

“You’re… like… part of nature. It’s always greener here when I visit with you.”

“Pssht—”
“He’s right,” had said Sasuke from Naruto’s other side. 

“It’s just nicer to be here with friends,” Sakura had quipped, thrown off by Sasuke’s rare concession.

Nibbling at the inner corner of her lip, Sakura had shrugged off their comments at the time.

But every now and again, that warm, sunny spring afternoon that had faded into a glorious sunset and meteor shower would come back to haunt Sakura’s dreams. Whenever she had come on her own thereafter she had looked for signs that the forest was ‘more green’ than usual… but it always looked the same to her eyes. Healthy. Lush. Comforting.

She lived for spring in the forest. As she visited it that nearly-spring evening, she also loved the cooler shadows cast by the summer boughs; the circus of crisp crimsons, chocolatey browns and supple yellows that fell in autumn.

And her favourite second only to spring was the quiet, unyielding and beautiful winter that would come every December and stay only until March. The stark, naked branches would rattle and murmur with the wind’s susurrations, the snow below her boots alternately crunching after a frost or muffling her movement in the aftermath of a fresh fall from the heavens. In winter, there was a special quality to the forest’s cathedral silence and it brought a peace and calm into Sakura that few other things ever could. 

The hivernal forest was her temple. She recognized the forest and the forest recognized her, she sometimes felt.

Which was why she let go of so much when she climbed its knobbly roots, considerately patted its rough, crevassed bark as she hoisted herself over fallen trunks, stepped mindfully in the soft, cushiony earth beneath the conifers that towered over her. The forest would protect her. The forest would keep her. The forest would clear her mind.

Breathing deeply of the sap and cedars, the rich loam and pine needles, a smile warmed Sakura’s face and heart the higher she climbed. Snowdrop flowers dotted the ground here and there along the trail that she often frequented. Her favourite trails always had snowdrops at this time of year.

Night had fallen by the time she reached the top of the rocky escarpment. Setting down her pack, Sakura walked to the edge and sat down, her legs dangling in the dark abyss below.

Above her shone thousands of stars, unobscured by the light pollution of the city.

Sakura wasn’t sure how long she stared up at the sky, but it was long enough for clouds to roll in and tiny prickles of snow, the stars of winter, to land upon her cheeks. The familiar sensation made her smile. Rolling her neck, she breathed deeply. It had been such a perfect evening. 

Then her stomach growled.

A gust of wind gently buffeted her back from the edge of the escarpment and Sakura shook her head. 

“Fine,” she sighed, fully relaxed at last. “I’ll head back.”

The forest spoke to her in its own way. She had learned to listen long ago; but now, she understood.

She wrapped a light scarf around her throat and pulled on her gloves from her back pocket before she strapped on her pack again. Another light gust of wind ruffled her hair beneath the kerchief and Sakura giggled playfully. “I’m going!”

Shaking her head, Sakura smiled as she headed back down the trail. 

“So pushy,” she murmured fondly as she disappeared into the trees, stroking a particularly thick tree trunk as she passed by. It was her own farewell ritual. 

A final, lonely gust of wind wished her well in goodbye.

It was close to midnight when Sakura returned home. She slept more soundly that night than she had in ages. So soundly that she dreamed of a past long forgotten.

Sakura knelt on the slippery, muddy bank of the stream and stared into the thawing water.

“No tadpoles yet?” she sighed to herself sadly.

At four years old, she had been so excited to check for tadpoles during her family’s weekly hike in the forest, but there were no jellies yet and if there were no jellies, there were no tadpoles.

She pouted. She had climbed all this way for nothing.

Beneath her knees, the grass grew just a bit thicker. The buds on the ferns beside her curled just a bit further and taller. The thin ice melted just a bit faster beneath her.

Pushing aside a thatch of cattails, Sakura stretched her neck to look at their roots—

“What are you doing?”

Surprised by the new voice, Sakura slipped, her grip faltering on the muddy bank.

She splashed into the chilly spring water, gasping as the frigid water went over her head. It was deeper than she thought!

A small hand wrapped around hers, pulling her out of the water and back up onto the bank, slipping and sliding all the way. 

“Ni-san!” called the boy desperately, pulling Sakura up and over a tree root to prevent her from slipping again. “Ni-san!”

“S-s-so c-cold,” shivered Sakura. She huddled in a tiny ball, her arms and legs wrapped around herself to keep warm. 

“Where are your parents?” demanded the boy.

Shuddering violently, Sakura looked up into eyes redder than the ribbon wrapped around her hair. Her brow creased. His hair was white as snow and his skin was equally pale, that was strange.

“Where are your parents?” he repeated, shaking Sakura’s slim shoulders.

“O-on the t-trail,” stammered Sakura.

The boy’s lips thinned as he looked around. There was no trail there. The trail would only show up closer to mid-spring. It was still the last stages of winter…

As Sakura’s lips turned purple, then faintly blue, her shuddering slowed. The boy looked back at her, more specifically her hair. Then her vivid emerald eyes.

The air rushed out of his lungs, fanning over Sakura’s cheeks. It was chilly.

“W-we always c-come in sp-pring,” murmured Sakura tiredly. 

One of her hands fell to the forest floor before she slipped to the ground on her side. Beneath her, the moss warmed and thickened, softening her fall.

“Hey. Stay awake,” ordered the boy, his eyes widening as the saplings nearby list to the side, wilting. Then the nearby ferns hung lower. And lower.

The moss, too, began to shrink back again as Sakura’s shivers slowed to a stop.

“I said stay awake!”

But Sakura barely heard him. He hollered once more, “Ni-san!”, but there was no reply.

Taking Sakura’s hand, the boy squeezed hard. 

“Spring will come,” he promised. 

When Sakura’s parents found her, her heartbeat was so faint that it took her parents several attempts to find it. She was rushed to the hospital where she remained for several days. Her parents’ guilt at losing track of her on the trails ate at them so much they refused to let Sakura out of their sight for months. But by fall, Sakura had begged to return to the forest to see if there were any frogs left.

The first frost had fallen before Sakura could sway her parents. 

They returned to the trail—now far better marked, after the community outcry at ‘little Sakura’s’ accident—and Sakura climbed with her parents on either side of her all the way to a pond her parents deemed ‘safe’ to visit.
Sakura frowned at it. “It’s not the right one,” she said. 

“It’s a very nice pond,” insisted Mebuki, her mother. “See? Look at the patterns in the ice.”

But Sakura pouted, crossing her arms in her winter coat and boots.

“How about some hot chocolate?” offered Kizashi, her father. He lifted a thermos.

“It’s the wrong pond. There were frog jellies at the pond before,” insisted Sakura.

“Sweetheart, it’s long past spring,” said Kizashi gently. “The jellies and tadpoles would have turned into frogs and buried themselves in the mud to hibernate for winter by now. We’ll come back next spring and check again.”

Pouting, Sakura looked at the pond one last time before her shoulders sagged. “Okay,” she sighed. 

Her father smiled at her, taking her mittened hand in his.

As they walked back to the car, a flash of white in the woods caught Sakura’s eye. She slowed to a stop, fascinated.

Kizashi’s hand tightened around Sakura’s tiny one as she pulled. “Sakura?”

“I saw something,” said Sakura, excited.

“No, we’re going home,” said Mebuki firmly.

Sakura shook her head fiercely. 

“No, I saw something,” she said, pulling in the direction she saw the flash disappear. “Come on!”

“Sakura—”

Frustrated, Sakura yanked her hand out of her mitten and took off.

“Forest friend!” called Sakura loudly, chasing after the specter hidden by the shadow of the tall trees. “Forest friend!”

“Sakura, come back here!”

“Sweetheart! Sakura, no, stop!”

“Forest friend! Forest friend—… Forest friend?”

Sakura’s booted feet slowed to a stop as a sudden gust of wind shoved her back. It was only then that she heard the sloshing of running water. Tiny prickles danced on her cheeks as she was buffeted by the wind and she raised her hands to protect her face.

When the gust died down, Sakura lowered her hands and looked around her again. She was in a small glade, just above a coursing current. The bank was slick with frost and if Sakura hadn’t stopped, she likely would have toppled straight into the water again, just as she had in spring.

Not that that was what fascinated her into stillness.

No, what had her attention was the abundance of snowdrop flowers nestled among the crisp, fallen leaves at her feet. The patch was thick with them, tiny white petals on delicate verdant stems.

When Kizashi and Mebuki caught up to Sakura, they found her on her hands and knees, peering at the ring of snowdrops that surrounded her. As she stroked its top with the gentlest touch, the flower bloomed, and Sakura smiled in awe. She stroked another, and another, and each one opened at her polite touch. Sakura giggled and tickled more flowers, each one opening as her fingertips graced them.

“Kizashi—” began Mebuki, eyes wide.

But Kizashi had taken his wife’s hand and squeezed it. “I know,” he said thickly, swallowing.

They looked around the glade, but they were alone.

Kizashi cleared his throat, looking around again. He may not have been a religious man, but he had grown up on the stories of the Founders Forest and the spirits that lived there. They had been blessed before by the return of their daughter. He dared not ask for more.

“Sakura, Sweetheart,” called Kizashi gently. “It’s time to go home now. Can you say goodbye to your forest friends, please? It’s important to be polite to the spirits here.”

Mebuki gave Kizashi a look that he ignored.

“Do we have to go?” asked Sakura, looking up from her flowers.

Kizashi smiled sadly at her. “We do. We’ll come back soon, though. I promise.”

Sakura’s bottom lip stuck out as she patted the last flower. “Okay. I’ll come back later and check on the flowers again. Bye forest friends!”

Kizashi scooped Sakura up in his arms, offering her her abandoned mitten.

The wind stayed at their back the entire walk out of the forest.

Sakura shot up in bed, gasping for air like she had been drowning.

White hair.

Panting, she clutched her pyjamas over her racing heart, pressing down harder and harder as something wild, thrilling, panicky, and hopeful coursed through her body. 

She rubbed at her face. 

No. She imagined it. Fanciful nonsense made up from—from—from an unfortunate childhood accident.

Red eyes.

Terrified. 

Lonely. 

Forgotten.

Sakura’s heart swelled and ached inside her.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real…”

“Wait. How…how do we know each other?” she asked, trying to figure out what the right words were, what was going on, what she knew but didn’t know. The desperate edge to her words surprised her.

There.
It was so slight she would have missed it if she hadn’t been searching for it, hadn’t expected it, somehow.

The hint of emotion, the shadow of softness, the barest warmth flickered behind Tobirama’s crimson eyes.

“We don’t,” he murmured.

Tobirama had lied.

“Forest friend…?” whispered Sakura into the darkness.

She was alone.

For the first time in her adult life, Sakura played hookie from work and called in sick. She left a voicemail on Nami’s extension. It was half past four in the morning, but Sakura knew she would never get back to sleep again without answers.

Her parents had passed away years ago in an accident overseas, so she couldn’t ask them what happened.
No, her only hope… was the man who came to find her.

Again.

Wrapped up snuggly in her winter hiking gear, her pack extra-stuffed with emergency rations and gear, Sakura called herself a hundred kinds of stupid as she drove back out to the Konoha—no, she corrected herself, as the memory surfaced—the Founders Forest.

“Ino is going to have a field day with my next psych eval,” muttered Sakura to herself as her headlights cut through the darkness. The moment she passed through the gates, mist lay low on the ground. It surrounded her car, making it difficult to see the road ahead with her headlights on, reflecting on the millions of water droplets that hung in the air. The mist soon turned to fog.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Sakura aloud in her car, into the ether. “You don’t get to push me away now.”

The fog thickened, forcing Sakura’s speed to a crawl, but still she pushed on.

When it continued for another few minutes, Sakura, abandoning all sanity, rolled down her window and shouted, “Fuck around and find out, Forest Friend! I’m coming anyway!”

To really make her point, Sakura began flashing her high beams on and off. 

She wasn’t quite sure what her intention was when doing so, other than to possibly piss off said Forest Friend—if he did control the local meteorology—but it worked. Around her car, the fog reluctantly began to dissipate.

“Hah!” cheered Sakura, thumping her steering wheel in triumph.  She jammed the button to roll her window back up with satisfaction.

The fog continued to recede as Sakura came upon the entrance to the park, recoiling into the gentle mist that came no higher than her ankle when she parked.

She slammed the door to her car and strapped on her pack before facing the forest with her hands on her hips. She could barely make out more than a few meters in front of her with the lack of moon overhead. 

I’m…insane, Sakura decided.

She had already done a particularly spectacular job displaying her descent into madness so far that night. 

There were several paths she could take. But which one would lead to Tobirama? To the left was the path that led to the glade in her dream, from her childhood. To the far right, the escarpment.

“Where are you,” Sakura murmured to herself, looking between the two.

Setting her jaw, she headed left. It would be safer to scale the escarpment when the sun rose, anyway. So she would take her time to check the glade first. Making her way carefully through the forest, Sakura listened to the fauna as it chirped and hummed in the very early morning. The peace tried to invade her once again and she allowed it halfway in to soothe her frayed nerves and self-doubt.

“Is the forest the balm or is it you?” wondered Sakura aloud.

There was no reply.

The glade held hundreds of snowdrop flowers, all poking their little white heads up through the patches of snow that gathered in the shaded patches beneath the trees. Sakura stopped and closed her eyes.

“Are you here?”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, waiting.

“... Forest Friend…?”

There was no reply.

Was…was she wrong?

For a moment, uncertainty tugged at Sakura’s determination.

Then she felt it; the tendril of chilly winter mist that curled around her ankle and tugged her further on.

Inside her chest, her heart lifted.

Forcing down her smile, Sakura hurried toward the escarpment.

Sakura was nearly out of breath as she climbed the thick tree roots that led up to the escarpment’s overhang. As she crested the top and looked out, she saw the first hints of sunrise limning Konoha on the horizon.

“F… Forest Friend…?” huffed Sakura, leaning against the touchstone tree.

Looking around, her heart tightened in her chest. Still no sign of anyone.

With her hands on her shaking thighs, Sakura hung her head as she caught her breath. 

Fine. This was fine.
Okay, so, she was most definitely certifiable, but this was fine.

Exhausted, Sakura stepped forward toward the edge of the precipice.

A sudden gust of wind forcefully shoved her back.

Punch-drunk from the adrenaline rush that night, Sakura couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“You think that’s funny?” came a deep, gravelly male voice from behind her.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” said Sakura. 

“Debatable given your behaviour in the last several hours.”

Sakura took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sinking down until she sat on the rocky cliff with her legs dangling over the edge. 

Before her, the sun tinged the night sky with the first rays of morning light. It was beautiful.

When was the last time she got to see the sunrise like this?

“... sit with me?” asked Sakura softly.

At first, she thought he would refuse, but then firm warmth came to stand behind Sakura. Then it sat alongside her, at rest, his heat so close it radiated through her jacket. 

Abandoning her pride, Sakura gave in to the urge that had been driving her all night. With the sun warming her face and his strength warming her side, Sakura leaned her head against Tobirama’s shoulder, nestling into his soft, furred collar.

Silence.

Then,

“What are you doing?”

Sakura pressed her lips together, wanting to laugh again but not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Making sure you’re real.”

Beneath her cheek, Tobirama tensed before gradually softening. Then he placed a hand behind Sakura, subtly nudging her closer into his side.

“I am real,” he said.

Sakura smiled. 

“What are you?”

Tobirama’s exhale was audible. “Like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like you. I am what you are, but…of a different nature.”

“I don’t understand. A spirit? A god? Fae?”

“What are you?” he asked Sakura in return as the sun rose.

Sakura’s lips pursed. She looked out at the dawning morning and missed the gentle, speculative look Tobirama cast her.

“I’m Doctor Sakura Haruno. I’m the top cardiac specialist at Konoha General Hospital.”

“That is your job. Not what you are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You used to,” he said softly.

Sakura looked up at Tobirama to find him still watching her patiently. “When did I understand?” she asked.

The hard lines of Tobirama’s brow and jaw softened. “You remember, otherwise you wouldn’t have checked the glade first.”

Sakura looked away.

“We are the same, but of different natures,” repeated Tobirama.

“I’m not…” Sakura’s brow furrowed as she tried to find a polite way of saying, ‘not like you’, without it sounding derogatory.

“You are. Touch the earth. You’ll feel it. You always have.”

“I’ve never—”

“Lie to yourself but not to me.”

Sakura’s eyes widened at Tobirama’s harsh words.

He simply looked at her, unimpressed. “Why will you believe it of me, but not of yourself?”

“In my defense, I only remembered this a few hours ago.”

“No, this night you only recalled the memory of a particular event… You’ve always known. It’s why the forest is your sanctuary. You are most yourself here.”

Leaning back, Sakura looked up at Tobirama. “You’ve been watching.”

“We watch over the forest. It is part of what we do.”

We.

“Hashirama. Tsunade. You,” realized Sakura aloud.

“And you.”

Tobirama held Sakura’s gaze calmly. “Hashirama, Autumn. Tsunade, Summer.”

In her chest, Sakura’s heart swelled with burgeoning understanding. “You’re… winter.”

Tobirama nodded, waiting for Sakura to speak the last aloud.

“I’m… spring.”

Something tight unfurled inside Sakura, some dormant seed that only now received light, water, warmth.

“I really did make the flowers bloom that day,” she murmured. 

“The snowdrops.” Tobirama looked at Sakura steadily, willing her to understand something.

“But snowdrops only bloom in spring; very early spring,” mused Sakura aloud. “They’re the first spring flowers. They often bloom during the last stages of… winter. But when I touched them that day, it was late fall, almost winter…”

Tobirama waited patiently.

“You and I together created them,” she said with quiet understanding.

Tobirama nodded.

“That’s why they’re along all my favourite trails.”

He continued watching her.

“You’ve been walking with me ever since I started visiting the forest.”

“You always found me.”

Vulnerability had Sakura biting her lip. “Did I annoy you?”

Tobirama’s low voice grew rough. “The opposite.”

Somehow, his words, his tone blew a flush across Sakura’s cheeks. She wouldn’t pursue that. For now. 

But in that case...

“Why did you come to my office?”

Tobirama swallowed and cleared his throat. “Spring was slow in arriving this year…” 

Sakura’s head tilted to the side.

“It’s still early in the season, of course, but with things being what they are and you not coming to the forest for nearly nine months…”

Sakura blinked.

“And your friends visiting and mentioning their children…”

Naruto and Hinata, Ino and Sai had had children over the past year…

Sakura’s smile widened as she grinned up at Tobirama. She enjoyed how his voice became flatter and darker the longer she grinned at him. 

“You were worried about me? Thought I had gone off to have my own kids? Forgotten you and the forest?” she teased. 

“As that is not the case, it seems I overreacted—”

“Stay,” said Sakura, grabbing Tobirama’s arm and yanking him down when he made to stand.

Tobirama’s warm hand closed over Sakura’s as their eyes met. This time it was Sakura who swallowed.

She wet her bottom lip, noting how Tobirama’s chest lifted and fell as the tip of her pink tongue darted out. His eyes followed it as it traced the seam of her lips. His hand tightened around hers.

“Stay,” repeated Sakura firmly. In Tobirama’s firm grip, Sakura spread her fingers and interlaced them with his. “I just got you back.” 

“My time is ending.”

Sakura frowned at Tobirama. “What happens then?”

Tobirama glanced down at their hands. “I will not take physical form often again until winter’s return.”

“How long do you have?”

Tobirama looked up from their clasped hands to meet Sakura’s gaze. “That depends on you.”

“How so?”

“When you wish for spring, it will come.”

Sakura frowned. “That sounds… ridiculous.”

“It is the truth.”

His thumb stroked over her palm, distracting her.

“What if I never wished for spring?”

“It would happen eventually. Summer would start early. It happens when one of us is reborn. The others extend their influence until the child understands.” His gaze softened as he looked at Sakura. “You understood the moment you laid eyes on the forest.”

“Why have I never disappeared in the other seasons? Or Hashirama or Tsunade?”

“You are tethered to the earth more than the other seasons. Summer is the season of bounty, autumn of harvest, winter of death. Each of us has a period of rest. You probably didn’t think anything of it when they would take a vacation or become unreachable for periods of time.”

“Why is your rest period so long?” asked Sakura. She couldn’t help the longing that tinged her voice.

Tobirama was silent a long time.
“I don’t know. Perhaps because I am the season of death and slumber? None of us knows for sure how long our rest will last. But mine is always the longest.” He paused. “It may also be that I am not as welcome as the other seasons. The populace dreads me.”

Sakura nodded and rested her head against the fur collar that spilled onto Tobirama’s shoulder. His hand scooted closer, pulling her into his side. Before them, the sun rose in pinks and gold to climb the horizon towards the heavens. 

Sakura sighed. “I don’t dread you. I want more time with you.”

“I’ll always be part of the forest,” said Tobirama.

“But I want you to be part of me and my life.”

Tobirama shook his head once. “I am winter. I am death.”

“No, you’re Tobirama. My Forest Friend.”

Tobirama huffed under his breath. “You are no longer a child, Sakura.”

“No, I’m not.”

Sakura’s gaze hardened. She swallowed and lifted her chin when Tobirama looked down at her, meeting her challenging gaze. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve sat on this very rock with my friends and felt alone? How I wished I had someone who understood what I wanted, what I felt? Do you know how many times I sought something I couldn’t understand in the roots of the trees in this forest? How much I wished I knew someone like me?”

The robins and sparrows began their morning song around them, the wind softly rustling the branches and trees. With the sun rising to warm them, Sakura understood what Tobirama meant, about spring coming, and soon. Because yes, she had always felt it. It summoned her as much as she summoned it, she suspected. And only now did she realize how much her schedule had overworked her, how much it had taken from her, from her time in the forest she loved. The forest was her family, the flora her kin, the water her blood, the earth and bark her skin. She reached for the skies with her branches and fingers, breathed through the leaves, dug her roots deep in the soil to steady herself. 

But there had always been something missing, and now she knew where it was.

“You’re my heart. The heart of the forest,” said Sakura. “Do you know how often I came here to find you, not even knowing you were who or what I sought, only that I needed the peace that could only be found here in this natural shrine?” 

The sun warm on his face, Tobirama’s eyes focused entirely on Sakura. “Yes.”

Sakura gaped at him.

Tobirama’s shoulders relaxed then, his rough voice softened with yearning.

“Because I spent every one of those days by your side.”

(TBC, because there's at least 25k more words of this written...)