Waiting for a pair of lungs to become available, as Itachi had put it that first night home, was exactly as morbid as it sounded.

It was, essentially, waiting for someone to die. Someone who died and happened to leave behind a healthy set of lungs—which they were also willing to donate. Someone who died close enough to the Konoha hospital that their organs were still viable to transplant. Someone whose blood type and other blood proteins were a close enough match to Itachi's that his body didn't ultimately reject the new lungs.

If Itachi had needed a different organ, one that Sasuke could have managed without like a kidney or part of a liver, he wouldn't have hesitated to volunteer his own. And he was likely a match, too, since they were brothers. But none of that was an option; Sasuke couldn't live without his lungs. So, instead, they'd wait for some other unlucky soul to die—and Itachi would live. He would.

After a few days at home, Sasuke had begun to settle into a new routine. He and Itachi often studied together, or they played a few games of shogi, all of which Sasuke lost horrendously. He'd make it out of the house at least once a day to train; and by the time he returned, his cousin Shisui would have already arrived. He and his brother had been best friends for as long as Sasuke could remember; and, as far as Sasuke could tell, Shisui was the only person outside of Itachi's medical team and immediate family who knew the extent of his illness.

Today, with the weather a little warmer, Sasuke and his brother had elected to sit outside on the porch for breakfast. Or really, for Itachi's breakfast and Sasuke's mid-morning tea. Itachi had been sleeping in well past sun-up for the past few days, something Sasuke couldn't recall ever happening before. Sasuke would've liked to sleep in as well—the Hokage had given him some time off—but waking early had been part of his routine for so long that he woke before sunrise even without an alarm.

On the other hand, it wasn't like he had nothing to do. His father had assigned him reading concerning the long history of the Uchiha clan, with an emphasis on its politics. He had one scroll unfurled before him now, but he found his mind wandering. Neither of the brothers broke the morning's serene hush.

Just like Itachi had warned, his father had broached the subject of Sasuke taking over clan heir duties the first night of his return. It had been jarring.

Reluctantly, he'd acquiesced, but only after Itachi had assured him that he was not troubled by the decision. It was certainly grim, but Sasuke wondered if this was relatively normal for powerful clans facing the potential loss of their heir. Then again, Itachi wasn't just clan heir—he was also the prodigal son and one of the most accomplished shinobi of his generation. Sasuke would undoubtedly be found lacking when compared to his brother.

Even more unsettling was his father's way of talking around Itachi's illness, never directly mentioning it. Itachi was probably right; their father was incapable of addressing these kinds of feelings. He proceeded in life as if nothing much had changed. He still spent his days consumed by work as Konoha's Chief of Police as well as the leader of the Uchiha clan. At dinner, where Sasuke remembered him always crowing about Itachi's proficiencies, he now mostly sat in silence. If he felt fear or sorrow in the wake of Itachi's diagnosis, he did not confide this in his sons. Their mother, again playing mediator, tried to assure Sasuke that he meant no harm—that his faults stemmed from clumsiness, as she had put it, but not willful intent.

Meanwhile, his mother made no secret that, while the circumstances were not ideal, she was overjoyed to have all of her family under one roof again. Itachi had been frequently called away on missions and other obligations from a young age. Sasuke himself had grown up at a slower pace, to his mother's delight, but then he'd accepted that ridiculously long mission. She'd chosen to fill her time volunteering with the younger Academy students, mulling her empty nest and life's winding path.

When Itachi had first become ill enough to be removed from the active ninja roster, Mikoto enthusiastically accepted the responsibility to care for her oldest son. It was a role she slipped back into like a glove. She made sure he could never want for anything she was capable of providing: hot tea, warm blankets, his favorite home-cooked meals, fresh laundry, new books to read, refills on his prescriptions. She baked enough sweets to feed an entire birthday party of children. It brought her such joy to tuck him into his blankets before bed, smoothing back his hair and whispering goodnight.

Itachi had always loved her, she knew; but it'd been a long, long time since he needed her. And it felt good to feel needed—but that feeling curdled into a mass of guilt and fear whenever she wondered if and when Itachi would be cured. Listening to her son's coughing fits everyday racked her with worry. The medics were hopeful, yes; but they weren't gods. Mikoto left offerings and prayers at their shrine daily to cover all their bases.

The brothers' morning continued without much change, with Sasuke eventually laboring through the rest of his scroll. The chronicles of the Uchiha clan's investments in land and other equity had managed to be even more tedious than the previous scroll on the Uchiha clan's pre-Konoha trade relations. Meanwhile, Itachi was engrossed in a paperback novel. It seemed in his newfound leisure time, he'd found an unexpected appreciation for historical fiction.

Around 1 o'clock their mother invited them inside for a lunch of miso soup, rice, vegetables, and grilled trout. Afterwards, as Sasuke was helping his mother to wash and dry the dishes, he heard the front door sliding open and people walking into the entryway.

"Hey, teme!" he heard. Naruto.

A moment later Naruto and Shisui entered the kitchen. "Good afternoon," Shisui called, making a beeline for the tray of sweets on the table, "You'll never guess who I found wandering around outside."

"Hi Mikoto-san! Haha yeah, I kinda forgot which house you lived in!" Naruto walked up to Sasuke and clapped him on the back, earning himself a quietly hissed "Usuratonkachi" and a glare.

"Well, you had the right neighborhood," replied Itachi from his place at the table.

"Hey Ita—whoa, you look awful!"

All of the other Uchiha in the room froze at Naruto's declaration. Itachi, for his part, answered mildly, without missing a beat, "I'm just a little under the weather, Naruto."

Still oblivious to the tension in the room, Naruto then loudly sniffed the air and asked, "What's for lunch, Mikoto-san? Something smells great!"

Sasuke took that as his cue to begin dragging the idiot out of the kitchen and down the hall, where'd he only be able to subject one Uchiha to his unmitigated stupidity. From the hallway he could hear Shisui taunt them, "Awww, Sasuke-chan, do the lovebirds need some privacy?"

After dragging Naruto back to the entryway, Sasuke finally released him and asked, "Alright, Naruto, what do you want?"

"Don't be such as asshole, Sasuke! Sakura-chan told me you were back in town, not that you would bother. God, why are you such a hermit?"

Feelings the first pangs of guilt, Sasuke relented and sighed, "Hn. I've been…busy, since I've been home."

"Whatever! I know you're actually just avoiding me so I can't challenge you to a rematch. I have the skills now to make you look like an Academy dropout, believe it!"

"Tch. We both know Jiraiya never bothered to teach you anything besides peeping on women in the bath."

"Hey!" Naruto yelled, cheeks blushing, "I'll have you know me and Ero-sannin did lots of stuff besides that! You're just scared, aren't you?"

"As if I'd ever be scared of you, usuratonkachi."

"Fine! Prove it! Let's go spar right now!"

"Aa. I'll prove once again that you're still the dead weight of Team 7."

"You wish, teme!" Naruto slammed open the door and walked outside to stretch, "Alright, Training Ground Eight is usually open, I think. Last one there has to—"

"Idiot!" Sasuke gestured to his clothes; he was still wearing sweatpants from this morning. "I need to get my gear first."

"Oh, yeah," Naruto paused to scratch the back of his head, "Okay, and then we'll race?"

"Just wait out here," Sasuke answered and slammed the door in Naruto's face.

He walked to his room, changing clothes and gathering his weapons quickly. Sasuke hadn't thought of it before, somehow; but it'd probably do wonders for his current mood to be able to slug Naruto's stupid face. He sealed his katana in a scroll—that'd make for a fun surprise—and secured his final weapons pouch before leaving his room. As he walked by Itachi's door, he could hear Shisui's pealing laughter; and he was thankful for his brother's best friend, even if it meant enduring Shisui's seemingly endless ribbing.

Sasuke continued outside, locked the front door, and then he and Naruto took off towards the training grounds.

Sasuke won the spar using an intermediate level genjutsu, catching Naruto off guard and leaving him frozen on the ground for about six minutes. When Sasuke had finally taken pity on him and released the genjutsu, Naruto had awoken to find his rival sitting a few feet away and smirking, "I win again, dobe."

It seemed Naruto had improved a lot since they'd last fought, particularly in ninjutsu and taijutsu—though Sasuke was, smugly, still faster. And Naruto's chakra reserves, already massive when they were first genin, may have been the largest Sasuke had ever encountered. But the idiot's genjutsu abilities left a blaring weakness, one that almost surprised Sasuke when he finally bothered to use the jutsu. He was nearly sorry to win the spar that way, too. Beating the shit out of Naruto had been cathartic, in a way, and he'd been enjoying himself when he'd suddenly won the match in the most anti-climatic way imaginable.

The idiot had blustered about the genjutsu being an unfair move for a few minutes, stupid Sharingan, etcetera, before resolving to pester Jiraiya to teach him how to release a genjutsu like that.

Naruto had also proposed a Team 7 training session and reunion dinner—he knew Sakura would want to come and somehow he was sure he could track down Kakashi, too. They settled on this coming Friday as a tentative date. Jiraiya and Naruto never stayed in Konoha for long periods of time—they never stayed anywhere for long periods of time, in fact—but Naruto knew he'd at least still be here through the weekend, so hopefully Friday would work for everyone else. The dobe also really hoped they would go to Ichiruku's for ramen. Sasuke had rolled his at this, because how could someone still be so obsessed with one food when they ate it constantly. But fine, ramen was fine and definitely not worth the hassle of an argument about the restaurant.

Sasuke was on his way home then, rounding the corner to his street looking forward to a good shower, when he spotted his second and final genin teammate. He saw her signature cropped pink hair right before she stepped into a house. His house, he looked closer. Guess this was the day for unannounced visits to old teammates.

Reaching his doorway, Sasuke unlocked the door and entered his home, pausing to step out of his sandals. He could hear voices down the hall towards the bedrooms, Sakura's voice among them. He strode down the hall, stopping in front of Itachi's open door. His confusion mounted when he saw his old teammate kneeling beside Itachi, who was sitting on his futon.

His brother acknowledged him first, "Good afternoon, Sasuke." He paused to eye the grass stains on Sasuke's clothes and the scrapes and bruises on his person, "A good match, I hope?"

From her place on the floor, Sakura had turned around and smiled warmly, "Oh, hey, Sasuke-kun! You must have arrived just after I did!"

"Aa," Sasuke nodded his head in greeting, "I won the spar."

Just then his mother and cousin appeared in the doorway behind him. Mikoto was carrying a large basin of water and some towels, Shisui an open bag of shrimp chips. His mother smiled and greeted him as Sasuke moved aside for them to enter the room, and she walked and placed the basin and towels next to Sakura, who quietly thanked her.

"Sakura-san is part of my medical team," Itachi began, his eyes still settled his brother, "Considering it's in Konoha's best interests to keep my condition secret, the Hokage wished to keep my visits to the hospital as few as possible."

"Yes, I'm here to perform Itachi-san's weekly check-up and breathing treatments." Sakura opened her medical bag to retrieve a pen and a small notebook, "If Itachi-san permits it, everyone else is okay to stay and watch."

Mikoto, gathering some empty cups and plates from Itachi's bedside, excused herself to start making dinner. She'd watched Sakura, Shizune, and even the Hokage herself complete the breathing treatments before, and the intrigue was largely gone by now. Shisui and Sasuke, both leaning against the wall opposite the futon, elected to stay.

Sakura began by asking Itachi questions about his condition over the past week—his coughing fits, his appetite, how much medication he was using, etc.—and recording his responses in a small notebook.

While she worked, Sasuke thought back to their encounter outside the Hokage's office. As part of Itachi's medical team, she must have known about his brother's condition months before he did. In the Hokage tower, too, she hadn't really seemed surprised by his appearance, but he recalled now that she had seemed nervous under his gaze. He knew his old teammate well enough to guess that she had probably felt conflicted for keeping Itachi's illness from him, though nothing had seemed amiss in her most recent letters.

Truthfully, Itachi's own secrecy was something Sasuke hadn't quite gotten past yet. He should have been called home months ago. Itachi had been getting sicker and sicker, and he'd been wasting time guarding that pompous ambassador. But, on the other hand, Sasuke was also hyper-aware of the clock's ticking, and he felt guilty that he was still holding onto his resentment. He didn't want to spend their time left being angry with his brother; so he resolved to bury the feeling. Sometimes it was difficult, though, when he was reminded how long his brother had kept him in the dark.

Sakura then seemed to reach the end of her list of questions. Setting her notebook to the side, Sakura opened her medical bag and said, "Alright, if you will remove your shirt, I will begin the physical exam."

As Itachi took off his shirt, Sasuke found himself staring at the skin stretching across his brother's now prominent ribcage. Itachi had explained that one of the his medications was to prevent nausea and one of his immunosuppressants had the added benefit of increasing appetite, so nowadays Itachi was eating fairly consistent meals. It was obvious by Itachi's weight loss, however, that this hadn't always been the case.

Sakura turned around then, as if she had just remembered Sasuke and Shisui were still there, "For this next step, I'm going to use chakra to look at Itachi-san's lungs, and then we'll move on to the breathing treatments." Green chakra began to glow from her hands, and she placed them on Itachi's chest, moving them across his torso in a methodical manner. When she was finished, she wrote her observations in the notebook and retrieved a small scroll from her medical bag.

"Now," she unfurled the scroll, revealing large, painted kanji, "I'm going to loosen up any debris that may be blocking his airways and clear out as much as I can." Sasuke and Shisui watched in silence as she weaved the scroll over and under Itachi's shoulders and twice more around his ribcage before tearing off the paper's end and tucking it under one of the loops. "Itachi-san, please let me know if you're in pain and would like to take a break."

Itachi nodded in response, and Sakura began. Green healing chakra emanating from her hands, she again moved her hands over Itachi's torso in a precise, slow manner; and the scroll's kanji glowed green to mirror her chakra.

Shisui walked closer to the futon, dusting crumbs off on his pants, and kneeled down. "So, does it actually hurt?"

"It's not actually painful…I would say more uncomfortable than anything," answered Itachi. "And watch the crumbs."

"Tch." Even if it were painful, he knew his brother would try his hardest to deny it. Sasuke moved to kneel next to his cousin, noting how the green glow cast Itachi's and Sakura's faces in an eerie light. From the light sheen of sweat on their faces, he also surmised that this procedure was more involved than it appeared on the surface.

Sakura, if she noticed the other occupants of the room moving closer, had no outward reaction. After a few more minutes in silence, she slowly pulled her hands away from Itachi's chest, green chakra moving with her. What followed was, to Sasuke's repulsion, the debris Sakura had spoken about earlier, a fist-sized ball of something encased in chakra that she painstakingly pulled through Itachi's skin and deposited in the basin of water beside the futon. From the dark, rust-colored swirls appearing in the water now, Sasuke knew at least some of stuff was old blood. Both he and Shisui, who seemed to always have a crack about everything, were mute.

"Okay," Sakura took a moment to stretch before she spoke, "Hard part's over. That should ease Itachi's coughing and breathing difficulties, at least temporarily. To finish, I'll perform some tissue repair for his lungs."

As Sakura resumed her work, Sasuke recalled their genin days and the time Sakura had first decided to become a medic nin. From the moment she had voiced her new dream, he'd known her chosen path would suit her well. She'd been the de facto caretaker of Team 7 from its inception, always the one to wash and bandage their wounds, always the one to talk sense into he and Naruto when they pushed themselves too hard and tried to ignore their bodies' limits.

It was no secret, too, that Sakura was one of the smartest ninja of their generation; she actually liked reading those massive, tedious textbooks from the library, and that would certainly be useful in learning the large quantities of information that medics had to memorize. She also had a natural aptitude for chakra control, something a medic nin would have to become very proficient with in order to channel healing chakra. And obviously, she had excelled—Sasuke doubted the Hokage would risk the health of one of Konoha's best shinobi with a less-skilled medic.

Sakura then lifted her hands from Itachi's chest, the green glow dissipating from her palms as well as the kanji on the scroll one final time. The scroll's ink, which had been coal black at the beginning of the procedure, was now the color of ash. "All done," she smiled, unwrapping the scroll from around his torso and handing him a towel.

Itachi used the towel to wipe away the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his body before replacing his shirt, and Sakura used the second towel to wipe her own face and arms. "Thank you, Sakura-san, I feel it is already easier to breathe."

"My pleasure, Itachi-san," Sakura packed up her medical bag and stood, "Please let us know if you need any refills before next week's appointment, or if you need Shizune or I to come back sooner. If not, I'll see you next week!"

Sasuke stood up as well, and he gestured that he'd walk her out. When they were further down the hall, he spoke quietly, "You knew."

Sakura's smile faltered. "Ah—yes, I knew… It was hard for me to hide it from you, Sasuke-kun, but I couldn't have broken patient confidentiality."

"Hn."

Already they reached the entryway, and they both came to a stop. Sasuke watched as she held out her arms, her eyes searching his face, before she stepped closer and enveloped him in a hug. Sasuke felt himself tense, felt the warmth of her arms on his shoulders and neck and her body close against his.

"I've missed you," she said. Then she quickly stepped away from him, like she'd stolen the embrace, and shyly retreated towards the door, motioning her goodbye. The entryway was dark, but Sasuke would bet his last paycheck that she was blushing.

"Sakura," he began, trying to recall what he wanted to say. A beat passed before he could remember. "Naruto wants to train on Friday…All of us. And probably get food after."

"I'd like that," she smiled.

"Aa."

With that, she bid goodbye and opened the door to step out. When the late afternoon sunlight glanced over her face, he could see that, yes, her cheeks almost matched the pink of her hair. And then she closed the door, and it was dark again.

"Huh," he heard Shisui's voice from behind him and turned to see his cousin carrying the towels and basin of water, a thoughtful expression on his face. "God, you two are awkward."

Notes:

Apologies if you were expecting a training scene. I just didn't particularly feel like writing this one, though I may include one in the future. I'm much more interested in writing about interpersonal relationships and interactions.

Happy (late) Lunar New Year!

Feedback sincerely appreciated.