You are Sakura Haruno and you’re supposed to be dead. You saw it, the bone ash needle hit you right in the chest. You should have crumbled, been reduced to splinters, kin to dust. So why are you alive?

Your eyes opened slowly, straining to adjust to the merciless sun. Konoha. I’m in Konoha. You didn’t have time to ruminate why you were here and not at the war when a sudden flash of yellow purloined your attention.

Smooth as a river of velvet, the flash spoke.

“And who might you be?”