Chapter Text
Sakura wakes to darkness and silence. Cold bites at her skin, and she realizes she’s shivering, her limbs trembling with the chill. Her hands are wet and clammy, and she raises one to brush her hair from her face. The motion feels sluggish, like moving through molasses.
The breath catches in her throat as something thick and sticky slides down her arm with the change in gravity. She freezes. Her eyes strain to adjust to the pitch-black void around her, but even without seeing, she knows. Scarlet blood trails from her palm to her elbow, glistening faintly in the dim, nonexistent light.
Her other hand, braced against the ground to steady herself, is lifted hesitantly, trembling in the cold air. The same dark liquid slips across her skin, staining her fingers and smearing down her wrist in crisscrossing lines. It drips faintly, painting the silence with the soft pat, pat of falling droplets.
She blinks, distantly surprised. The thought rises sluggishly to the forefront of her mind, unbidden and cold:
Who did I hurt?
The thought doesn’t bring fear or guilt. It’s just there, heavy and numbing.
A low growl echoes from somewhere beyond the limits of her sight, cutting through the eerie silence. Her gaze snaps up, and she feels herself go still as ice floods her veins. The ground beneath her shifts faintly, and the black expanse that stretches endlessly around her gleams like shallow water—only now, there’s a crimson tide rolling toward her, slow and deliberate. It seeps closer, spilling over the void like paint on uneven glass.
The sound of splashing footsteps reverberates in the stillness. The ripples of the blood-tinged water reach her knees, dark tendrils creeping outward with each faint wave.
A shape emerges from the dark. It’s massive, easily four feet tall at the shoulder. A russet wolf.
It prowls closer, each step sending soft ripples across the bloodied floor, and its lips curl back to reveal teeth that glisten like freshly forged steel. A deep rumbling growl fills the air, vibrating through the stillness, low and threatening. The beast’s stocky frame is built for pure strength, its thick, furred muscles shifting with every slow, measured step forward. Its glowing gray eyes, the only light in this endless void, seem to pierce straight through her.
Sakura swallows hard, her breath coming in shaky gasps. She doesn’t dare move, not with the predatory way the beast lowers itself closer to the ground, its growl deepening. The blood beneath it swirls with its movement, flowing toward her like an inevitability she cannot escape.
For a fleeting moment, she wonders if the wolf is the source of all the blood. If this overwhelming presence, this creature born from shadow and rage, is to blame for the dark crimson stains on her skin. The thought lingers like a desperate hope.
But the blood under her nails tells a different story.
The wolf steps closer, and the growl shifts in tone, rising and falling in a way that almost feels… weighted. Heavy. Grieving.
Sakura’s breath hitches, and her thoughts grind to a halt. She doesn’t know why that word fits, why it’s the only one that feels right, but it hits her like a hammer to the chest.
The wolf is grieving.
And then, the scene shifts.
Sakura doesn’t understand how it happens, or why, but the darkness and crimson dissolve into something else—somewhere else. Towering trees surround her, their ancient trunks rising high into the sky, their roots sprawling across the ground like the veins of the earth itself. She knows this place. She’s seen it before. These were the trees that had surged forth against Orochimaru, their power primal and unrelenting, their intent clear: destroy .
But now, there is blood.
It’s everywhere .
It stains the forest floor, soaks into the roots of the ancient trees, and clings to the air like a suffocating mist. Sakura— no, not Sakura —stands at the center of it all. Her blue haori is drenched, the fabric clinging to her slumped frame. Blood drips from her chin, coats her teeth and tongue, and clings to her pale skin like a second layer.
Even without the pain tearing through her body, she would know she’s dying. It’s written in the way her legs tremble beneath her, in the way her vision blurs, in the wet, choking gasps that escape her lips.
She— Who is she ?—raises a trembling hand, sticky with blood, and presses it to the ground beside her. “Kuchiyose no Jutsu,” she rasps, her voice barely a whisper.
There’s a puff of smoke, and from it emerges the wolf.
Takeo .
The name blooms in Sakura’s mind, unbidden yet familiar, as if she’s always known it. He is massive, even larger than before, his russet fur thick and wild. His glowing gray eyes widen as he takes in the sight of her— Who is she —broken figure, and he yelps, rushing to her side.
“Stay with me, pup,” he pleads, his voice rough with desperation as he nudges his head under her arm, trying to lift her to her feet. “Come on, we’ve gotta get going. Masumi-baa would never forgive me if I let you die.”
Sakura’s head spins, the pain and confusion mingling into something unbearable. She opens her mouth to ask what is happening, but the words that come out aren’t hers.
“Ne, Takeo,” the girl whispers, her voice weak but steady with a determination that doesn’t match her failing body. Her skin is far too pale for a descendant of Hashirama, and her brown— But her eyes are green —eyes glisten with unshed tears. “’ve got a mi’sion for you.”
Takeo whines, his massive frame trembling as he presses against her. “You can give me a mission tomorrow, Azumi.”
It's like Sakura’s an observer in her own body.
With all the strength she can muster, she raises her bloodied hand and pats his head gently. “Mmm. G’tta give it now,” she says, her words slurring together, “don’t have the chakra to s’mmon ‘nybody else.” Her eyes are filled with regret, heavy and unbearable. “You are to go to Senju Masumi and Senju Hakura with this mes-s-age: Senju Hiroshi is to be cha-rged with the… with murder of his youngest sister and the a-attempted theft of the Wolf Summoning contract.”
Takeo growls low in his throat, his grief and fury evident in the trembling of his body. He lowers himself to meet her gaze, his gray eyes locking onto hers. “Azumi-chan.”
The girl— Azumi —smiles softly, her tear-streaked face streaked with blood. “It’s okay, Takeo,” she whispers, her voice impossibly gentle. She rubs her hand along his fur, her touch light and trembling. “It’s alright.”
And then Sakura is there, beside her, watching the scene unfold as though it’s happening to someone else. She’s standing in the blood-soaked clearing, her feet submerged in crimson as Azumi, her, not her, strokes Takeo’s fur with the last of her strength.
Takeo doesn’t move from her side. He stays with her, his massive form pressed close to her small, fragile body, until her hand falls from his head and her chest stills.
The blood stops spreading. The forest falls silent.
A mournful howl splits the stillness, ringing through the ancient trees as Takeo raises his head to the heavens and grieves.
And fourteen-year-old Senju Azumi breathes her final breath.
Sakura gasps, her green eyes wide and glimmering with unshed tears as the wolf—Takeo, she recalls—sits calmly before her. His stormy gray eyes, which had been filled with grief and malice moments before, now hold a calm indifference. He huffs softly, lowering his massive head onto his paws, his tail swishing against the ground in slow, deliberate movements.
She glances down and realizes the scene around her has shifted again. The blood that had coated her hands and soaked into the ground is gone, replaced by an expanse of smooth, black nothingness. The silence is broken only by her labored breaths and the rhythmic swish of Takeo’s tail.
Her hands tremble as she raises one to her face, brushing her fingertips over the tracks of tears she hadn’t realized she was shedding. They come away clean, untainted by the blood that had stained her so vividly before. Relief floods her, but it’s short-lived. The weight of what she’s just experienced presses down on her, threatening to suffocate her.
With a roll of his sharp gray eyes, Takeo stands and nudges his head under her trembling hand, encouraging her to pet him. She hesitates, but her fingers move almost unconsciously, sinking into the thick fur streaked with silver. The action is grounding, soothing, as though the world is a little less chaotic when she’s touching him.
“You Senju were always an emotional lot,” the wolf rumbles, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating through her fingertips.
“I-I’m… not a Senju,” Sakura whispers, her voice shaky as she withdraws her hand. “Not really.”
Takeo raises a metaphorical eyebrow, his expression one of unimpressed disbelief. “Kid, you’re the last direct descendant of Senju Hashirama,” he states matter-of-factly. “Sure, you’ve got some Uzumaki from Mikoto-sama, and more Kagerou from Masumi-baa than most. And then there’s that Haruno boy as your… well, sperm donor. But your bloodline is predominantly Senju.”
“Kage…rou?” Sakura asks, her confusion deepening.
“Did no one teach you anything, girl?” Takeo snorts, but he doesn’t wait for her to answer. “The Kagerou clan is where your grandmother comes from. Kagerou Masumi. She married into the Senju and had… that man, Mebuki, and Azumi.”
Sakura shakes her head, her hands curling into fists. “Mebuki never spoke about her life before I ruined it,” she says. “I didn’t even know she was a Senju until a few months ago.”
Takeo’s tail stills, and his gaze sharpens as he straightens, towering over her. “Ruined it?” he echoes, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat. “Pups cannot ruin a life until they’ve matured. You’re barely of teething age, your fangs haven’t even grown. You could not possibly ruin her life as a mere babe.”
Sakura blinks, his words washing over her like a cold tide. She swallows hard, shaking her head. “What was that?” she asks, her voice trembling. “The blood and the forest and the… knowing ?”
Takeo huffs, his tail resuming its slow, deliberate swish. “So many questions,” he mutters. “What you saw was the right of succession. Kagerou’s descendants experience it when their Shadow Seal breaks.”
Her brows knit together. “Shadow Seal?” she echoes. “What’s that? What does it mean? And where are we?”
Takeo snaps his jaws lightly at her hand, startling her into silence. “Kid, give me a moment,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. His sharp posture softens into a slouch, his nose twitching as he considers her questions. “We’re in your unconscious mind. Your physical body is still in the hospital. A Shadow Seal,” he explains, “is a protection passed down through the Kagerou clan. About three in every ten Kagerou children are born with one.”
He pauses, his eyes flickering with a sadness that cuts through his gruff demeanor. “The Shadow Seal has four stages: Inactive, Semi-Dormant, Active, and Broken. Most seals remain inactive for a bearer’s entire life. Semi-Dormant activates in moments of near death—or the belief of it.”
Dirt under her nails and blood in her hair. She thinks she may have dislocated her shoulder again, or broken her arm.
Hiroshi continues to swing down on her.
Takeo lowers his head closer to hers. “Active,” he continues, “is triggered by the complete death of trust and innocence. It’s when a person’s survival instincts demand they create someone, something, to rely on. It brings forth the shadow of the self—the fractured, broken pieces molded into a singular force.”
Something inside Sakura shatters.
The next morning, Inner appears.
“A-and broken?” she stammers, her voice shaking.
Takeo’s tail slows to a stop as he rests his chin on her lap. “A Shadow Seal breaks under conditions eerily similar to the trauma that created the shadow self in the first place. It is a moment of unimaginable strain, where the bearer is confronted with something so harrowing, so deeply rooted in their pain, that it threatens to shatter what remains of their fragile identity. But instead of breaking your psyche further into pieces, the Shadow Seal allows the inner shadow to merge back into the bearer’s psyche.” He closes his eyes briefly, the weight of his next words pressing on them both. “The last to complete all four stages was Senju Azumi, and she received the Wolf Summoning Contract from Masumi-baa.”
Sakura’s breath catches as the enormity of his words settles over her. “And I… I did that?” she asks, barely above a whisper. “I completed all four stages?”
Takeo nods, his gray eyes meeting hers steadily. “Yes.”
Her voice cracks as she hesitates, the question clawing its way out of her throat. “Does this mean that… Inner’s gone?”
“The shadow,” Takeo says, “or Inner , as you’ve come to call her, has re-merged with yourself.”
Sakura’s breath hitches, her fingers gripping the fur of the wolf in her lap. She doesn’t know whether to cry, scream, or simply sit in silence. She feels whole—and yet, more fragmented than ever.
Sakura sits in the void of her mind, her fingers still tangling in Takeo's fur. The warmth of his presence lingers, even as he fades into the darkness beyond her vision. The weight of his words presses down on her, heavy and unyielding, but there’s a quiet sense of clarity blooming somewhere deep inside her chest.
“Oh…” she murmurs, her voice soft and trembling. The stillness around her feels deafening, the kind of silence that fills the air after a storm has passed. Her heart aches, as though it’s tearing itself apart and knitting itself back together all at once.
She feels… strange. Whole, but empty. Fixed, but fractured. Like one of those porcelain bowls she’d read about, the ones repaired with gold to highlight the places where they had once been broken.
Sakura wonders if this is what grief feels like.
“The right of succession?” she asks after a long silence, her voice breaking the quiet like a ripple across still water.
Takeo’s reply is a low, rumbling huff, vibrating like a distant thunderstorm. “It is what happens when the next eligible Kagerou Wolf Summoner breaks the seal, provided they are not in contact with the current contract holder.”
Sakura opens her mouth to ask another question, but Takeo answers it before the words can form. “The last contract holder was your grandmother. Azumi, before her death, was meant to succeed Masumi-baa, inheriting the contract after her passing.”
The words hang heavy in the air, unspoken but understood. She never made it that far.
Sakura swallows hard. “So I am to receive the contract when Grandmother dies?” she asks, her voice small. “I… I didn’t know she was alive. I thought she left after Mebuki’s father died.”
“She did,” Takeo confirms. His tone is quieter now, almost reverent. “Masumi-baa lived a long and fulfilling life outside the village after Hakura’s death. She left the title of clan head to her niece, Tsunade. Hiroshi was cast out of the Senju clan, and Mebuki had already married into the Haruno family by then.”
Sakura lets out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in the wolf’s fur again. It grounds her, the steady vibration of his voice humming against her palm as he continues.
“But Masumi-baa passed away last year,” he says, and there’s a thread of sadness in his gravelly tone. “Honestly, I—and many other wolves—believed it would be generations before another Kagerou broke their seal. I thought we would become another lost contract, buried in the pages of history.”
Sakura’s voice is barely a whisper. “And then I broke my seal.”
Takeo nods, pressing his head lightly against her hand. “And then you broke your seal,” he says, his voice carrying a strange mix of relief and reverence.
He rises to his feet, his towering form now eye-to-eye with her as she sits. His stormy gaze is steady, calm in a way that sets something inside her at ease. “So, Senju Sakura, I leave you with this,” he begins, his tone shifting into something more formal. “If you wish to sign our contract, come to the waterfall where the lands of Hot Water and the Leaf meet. Beyond that is the hidden home of Kagerou Masumi. Under the third stair in the second hallway, you will find a sealed box that will only open to a Kagerou descendant.”
He steps back, his silver-streaked tail swishing once as he turns to retreat into the shadows. “We’ll be waiting.”
Sakura watches as he disappears into the darkness, his presence fading until she is left completely, utterly alone in her mind. For the first time in years, the quiet is absolute. No Inner. No Takeo. Just her.
And then, with a sharp inhale, Sakura wakes up.