Sakura's fingers dug deep into the ruff material of the linen cushion, filled with dirt. The sack was once a rice transportation bag from some farmer. Who exactly was unidentifiable? It had withstood so much abuse that the logo was a mess of bristly pieces. They sawed the delicate skin of her palm off, leaving red and bloody blemishes. When inspecting her injuries, the matron's lips curled, eying them with her hawk eyes and plastering a smelly cream on Sakura's hands. Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, she concentrated on her task.
Sakura lifted the heavy sack high above her head and let it fall to the ground. Rinse and repeat.
She and the other children were doing circle training. Some lifted sacks like her, another handful balanced on a rope five inches above the ground, and other groups did handstands, sit-ups, and pushups. Even Naruto and Jio concentrated on the matter. Half a year from now, the ninja academy would open its gates. A physical and mental test would sift out a few chosen ones to get the chance to become a shinobi. It was the most lucrative career path in Konoha and the most dangerous. Since every child belonged to their village, everyone had to undergo this training, especially in the orphanage. Time and time again, the matron told Sakura to stop putting too much effort into physical exercises and to focus more on the important stuff. The matron heeded that she did not believe Sakura would ever become a shinobi. So why bother?
Sakura, of course, had long since stopped to listen with more than half an ear. She played the role of the wanted doll, nothing more. She never liked the matron, but now she felt disgusted by the women.
Becoming a shinobi was her only ticket to freedom. She had no other options. She could not try to run, but a random shinobi would catch her and bring her straight back.
Sakura clenched her teeth as she picked the sack off the ground. The muscles in her arm ached. She felt it even more since the flesh and skin around it had gone numb. The pain would cling to her closer than her shadow. It was in Sakura's best interest to befriend it quickly if she wanted to survive.
She was glad that she had a single room. It freed her up to add one more private training every evening and morning without someone knowing. To what extent it helped, she could not tell. But her body hurt from head to toe the first weeks she tried it. By now, she managed more than a handful of pushups than when she started. It was the only thing she could graph when evaluating her progress. As long as the numbers rose, she was okay, she guessed.
But with everything good, it had to come to an end. One morning, the matron stood at her door, hands on her hips with a sour expression.
"Cease these acts immediately doll."
The matron stomped into Sakura's chamber and lifted her from the ground where she had been making pushups. The grip was so tight Sakura imagined it tied up the blood vessels in her upper arm.
"You have room arrest until I have thought about a fitting punishment for you," shrieked the matron into Sakura's right ear. The matron slapped the little girl before she pushed Sakura back to the wooden flooring. Then the women left.
Sakura heard the rattling sound of keys.
She refused to cry as she cradled her bruised cheek. She could deal with whatever the maton had in store for sure. After all, who in their right mind damages their merchandise on purpose?
It was not until the afternoon that the door to Sakura's room opened again. The matron beckoned her to follow. One step out of the room, she stumbled right into the matron's embrace. Who gingerly caught her and held her tight to her body.
Sakura watched as two men maneuvered a bed frame, a mattress, blankets, and a chest into her room.
Fifteen minutes later, the men said goodbye, and the matron dragged her back into the room. The new arrangement made her gulp. Her room had been empty save for her bed on the right side of the wall, a chair, and a small wardrobe in the corner of the left side.
Now, the wardrobe shielded her bed from the doorway, and a new bed occupied the left side, a chest to its foot.
That the matron moved in with her was a punishment Sakura would never have come up with.
"Sit on the chair, doll."
Sakura arranged the chair and sat down. The matron stood over her like a mountain, her dark eyes gleaming with purpose.
"Why are you so determined to upset me?" asked the matron in a creepy calm voice.
Sakura opened her mouth.
"What is wrong with giving it my all, matron-sama?"
The matron raised her eyebrows, lifted her hand before her mouth and crackled. "Silly doll." She shook her head and bent down to her.
Sakura could smell liquor in the matron's beath.
"I am not mad at you for questioning me, Sakura. It is common for a little girl to rebel and test their limits."
The matron took Sakura's chin in her hand and squished it between her thumb and index finger, forcing Sakura to crane her neck.
"The job of a parent is to recognize such behavior. Their instinct is to protect their children. The girl's parents task is to provide the cap, the limiter to say. They use their hard-learned life lessons to steer their girl on the right path. Due to the stubborn nature of children, this often requires a harsh hand. You understand that, right?"
Sakura nodded as best as she could. The matron let go of her face and padded her head.
"A good girl must listen to her parents. Because they know what is best."
The thick fingers ran over Sakura's head like cold water.
"Now you only have me, your matron-sama, to rely on." The matron picked one of her pink strands between her fingers.
"I am your Otou-san, your oka-san, the woman that raised you, made you who you are..." The matron gave her hair a full-blown, toothy smile. " I might as well have bithed you, my doll."
Sakura felt like she became more and more transparent in front of the older women. Was she even spoken to? She wanted to bail out of the room, but this was Sakura's room. Her sanctuary had turned into a hellhole by the matron and her bed.
"The world is cruel. It best shed that selfish skin you have developed and appreciate the little tokens life throws at you. Otherwise, you will find yourself ending up in misery."
Sakura felt a remark burn on the tip of her tongue, but she let it sizzle out. Her throat felt like the matron had clutched it instead of her jaw.
"There is so little beauty in his world. Born as you are, it is your fate to share it with the others and breathe light into their souls." The matron peered up at Sakura through her short lashes, pulling on the lock of pink hair, making Sakura feel the pinch of pain where the hair connected to the skin of her head. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes." There was not a hint of color in her response. Sakura sat on the chair, arms loosely hanging to her side. "I understand." She smiled to the tiniest of smiles, hoping it would please the matron. Never before had she felt so out of place, so doll-like. Her body had gotten entangled in a web of threads, which appeared to close around it tighter and tighter ever so slightly.
She would wriggle her way out of it, even if it meant to become a shinobi.