Finding Time,
...In Comfort
(Chapter Two)
Sakura woke with a start, half falling out of bed in her haste to stand. A massive stuffed bear fell out of bed with her and she reached for it in mild surprise, smoothing a hand through its silky fur. As she slowly calmed, she found herself to be back in her own room and—presumably—in her own time. The girl sat back down, raising her hands to her hair and finding it was once again short, and, after a quick inspection, pale pink in color. Sakura heaved a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging.
Sleep must have been the key to getting her to and from the past. It wasn't the best system for time travel; Sakura hardly felt rested. The girl stood up slowly, tossing the bear back up by her pillow, before heading to the small bathroom next to her room, but not connected. A quick shower helped to wake her up, though she had to be quick about it; hot water didn't last very long in her apartment.
Shower done, Sakura hurried to dress, shoving her arms into a shirt she'd picked out of her drawer at random. Drawstring pants came on next, followed by her hitai-ate. Sakura brushed her hair thoroughly, despite her rush. Even in haste, it wouldn't do to go out looking bedraggled; Ino would never let her live it down if she caught wind of the disgrace.
Once outside, Sakura rushed past civilians towards the festival grounds. The stands always broke down quickly the morning after a festival—the people who were a part of a traveling group needed to get back on the move in a hurry. Sakura was fairly sure the fortune teller was with them, which meant she needed to rush. She hadn't checked the time when she'd woken up, but according to the sun it was close to noon.
Sakura slowed down as she came into the festival ground, careful to keep out of the way of those working. She scratched at her hitai-ate as the heat of the day made it stick to the top of her scalp. But, she told herself, at least it wasn't around her forehead, making the sweat gather in a way that was sure to bring about acne.
The girl's eyes swept around the area, searching for Madam Yokurai's shop. She first found the fish stand where Ino had blown a good portion of her money in a failed attempt to catch herself a pet fish. However, in the space where Yokurai's shop should have been, there was only empty space. Sakura took in a slow, cautious breath, not wanting to get ahead of herself. It was possible the girl had packed up more quickly than her companions. She would still be waiting with the others to begin their progress to the next town festival, if this was the case.
She walked over to the stand next to where the fortune teller had been, clearing her throat to catch the attention of the man packing up his perfume shop. "Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you when you're working."
The man straightened, his pale brown eyes narrowing on her face. "What is it?"
"The girl whose shop was next to yours, do you know if she's a part of the traveling festival?" she asked, still polite, despite his rudeness.
He looked over at the patch of land that stood empty and then glared at her. "Is this a joke?"
"No. Of course not." Sakura glared back. "Why would I kid about something like that? I was in her shop last night."
"That's impossible," he told her flatly, "there was no stand there. It was vacant last night. Whoever rented it never showed."
Sakura felt like a bucket of ice had been poured down her back. She stood, staring at the man, unable to comprehend the reality of the situation she had found herself in. The man made an impatient noise.
"If that's all, I'm going back to work."
He turned his back on her, resuming his careful boxing of the store's perfumes. Sakura watched him for a long moment and then turned stiffly to head back towards her house. She should probably go to Tsunade and see if any missions were open for her, or check if she was needed at the hospital, but all she wanted to do was cool her head and think.
If the fortune teller was gone—vanished into thin air, apparently—then she was on her own. She had a month to spend in Nozomi's world, seeing through her eyes, without the guidance she had hoped for. Sakura needed to find out the date in Nozomi's time, so she might calculate the time left until the Uchiha massacre. It couldn't be too far off; from Sasuke's appearance, he was close to seven—the age when the murders had taken place.
Sakura chewed on her thumb nail, working it down to the quick. If she only had a month, then she would need to spend it wisely, starting with a detailed evaluation of the massacre in her time, and in Nozomi's. There had to be something she could do to change the past. The fortune teller girl must have seen something significant to allow Sakura to travel back.
Decided, Sakura twisted around, the idea of a restful nap at home replaced by the desire to unearth some secrets. It was a quick walk to the Hokage tower, and she was inside even faster, greeted kindly by the staff working inside. As Tsunade's student, the sight of Sakura in jonin territory was nothing new.
She ran up a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. As she walked down the hallway towards the records room, passing by Tsunade's office, she contemplated telling her teacher everything that had happened. She trusted Tsunade more than anyone else in the world: valued her opinion above all others and she knew the woman would always give her sound advice. However, Sakura told herself as she walked past the large double-doors, Tsunade's advice would be to dilute the spell somehow and prevent her from going back again. The more she thought about the opportunity she'd been presented, the more Sakura wanted to go back again.
It was sordid, she knew, to desire to be in the presence of a killer but, as Nozomi, Itachi was her fiancé. It offered her a position that if manipulated correctly would let her milk information—Uchiha secrets, and offer a look into the mind of Itachi.
Sakura looked around quickly before darting into the records room, closing the door behind her. It was a huge room—bigger even than the Hokage office—filled to the brim with records on every ninja family who ever was, since the beginning of Konohagakure. The Uchiha's had a long shelving row all to themselves, void of outsiders to the clan. She walked to it, focusing on finding Shisui's name first; through him she would be able to find the rest of their family.
She found him easily, as he was the first name listed in the death log. Sakura walked towards Nozomi's family book, number 321, pulling it off slowly when she found it. It was a thin book; Nozomi had been unable to bring her branch of the family more children to thicken it up.
Sighing, Sakura set the book down on a study table and sat down, flipping through the first Uchiha's in their family line and focusing instead on the last children. Nozomi's Genin picture was presented at the top of her page. The face was more familiar to her now, no longer a stranger. It started off simply enough—name, ninja ranking at time of death, blood type, height, weight, age. Sakura passed over all these, and focused on what was known to Konoha about the girl.
Precious little, she found. There was no trace of a marriage proposal between the girl and Itachi, despite what Shisui had told Sakura. She doubted that he'd been kidding, considering her mother had been semi-present at the time. If the engagement was real, why hadn't it been recorded?
Sakura frowned deeply, creating a crease between two delicate pink eyebrows. Her eyes drifted to the next page: the autopsy report. A single, savage blow to the heart had done Nozomi in. Though, according to the doctor who'd preformed the inspection, the girl had been unconscious at the time the blow had been delivered. There was no sign of a head wound, or anything else that might have rendered her incapacitated, so the doctor had suggested a jutsu. It made sense, though she couldn't understand why Itachi would show even that little sign of compassion.
Sakura went back two pages, staring at the picture of the woman who was Nozomi's kind mother. She hesitated and then closed the book harshly, not wanting to know how the woman had been murdered. It was bad enough that she had.
Sakura returned the book to shelves and cleaned up after herself, removing the traces that she'd been there. That completed, she left the records room swiftly, avoiding detection as best as she could. She hurried towards the back stairs, wanting to get home and mull over what she'd learned. Thankfully, her return trip was met with no interruptions. It was lucky, really, since Naruto had a knack of finding her when she least wanted to have a long winded conversation with him about their next mission.
The girl let herself into her apartment and headed into the kitchen to eat a belated breakfast. When she'd turned fifteen, Sakura had insisted upon having an apartment of her own, to her parent's horror. To them she was still a child, unprepared for the tribulations of the world beyond. But if she was old enough to kill men in battle, she was old enough to be alone and she'd firmly put her foot down, winning the battle through sheer stubbornness.
Sakura liked her privacy—it gave her the space to think and relax, though relaxing only got harder and harder the older she became.
The girl stared down at the oatmeal she was cooking, her green eyes distant as she thought. Nozomi had only been eleven at the time of her death, hardly more than a child. It could account for the reason that her engagement to Itachi had not been public news. They would undoubtedly not be married until Nozomi was at least sixteen, and it was probably still being worked out when she died. Sakura glared at the lumpy mess of food, stirring it. Itachi was no more than a child himself at twelve, but his decision to murder his family had made it clear he was no ordinary child.
But he wasn't a child anymore, Sakura knew. He was a man now, more dangerous than he'd been as a child. But not just dangerous to Konohagakure—dangerous to Sasuke and Naruto, the two most precious people in her life. It was impossible to just disregard the delicious idea of murdering him before he had a chance to carry out the massacre. It would save so many lives, fix so many things…She stopped that thought in its track and flipped off the burner.
Sakura moved the oatmeal to a bowl, adding in brown sugar and blueberries. She sat at the table with a glass of milk and began to eat, chewing deliberately. Most of her diet books agreed; the slower you ate, the less you ate. Though she no longer had Sasuke to impress, it had become a part of her life to worry about her physical appearance. It gave her…some normality in a world that was steadily ceasing to be as she knew.
She rinsed out her bowl when she was done eating, leaving it hanging upside down in the dish rack to drip-dry before she headed to her room, shedding her clothes as she walked. The clothes went into her laundry hamper—she disliked clothing piling up on the floor. It was something she was trying to teach Naruto to get into, though he resisted doggedly, the pig.
The girl changed into silk pajamas, not bothering to brush her hair before she tumbled into bed. A look at the clock told her it was barely five pm. She'd hardly been awake at all, though she still felt exhausted despite all her sleep. She reached up to draw her heavy blue curtains closed, blocking out the sunlight and throwing the room into darkness. Sakura lifted the blankets up to her chin and tucked an arm around her stuffed bear, closing her eyes.
Her troubled mind continued to race, though the thoughts twisting around slowed into an unintelligible mush of ideas. She sank deeper into the bed, her breathing evening out. At last she slept.
oOo
Sakura opened her eyes to blaring sunlight that reflected of white walls. There was a warm weight pressed tightly against her side, a comforting, almost familiar thing. She frowned, blinking stupidly at the face that peered down at her. "Shisui?"
The boy smiled. "You look terrible, Nozomi."
"Good morning to you too," Sakura told him rudely, stung despite herself. "Why are you in my bed?"
"I'm not allowed to sneak into your room anymore?"
Sakura wiggled out of his grasp, avoiding answering that—she didn't know Nozomi well enough to speak so casually with him, though she appeared to be going about it right. Cuddling seemed like something siblings did, not that she'd know. Shisui rolled out of her bed, landing in a twist that was executed with the smooth grace of a ninja.
"Your sensei came by early this morning to see if you were okay." The boy leaned against the wall and watched her gather up clothes to change into. "He was worried about you. I thought you had gone to meet your team yesterday when you bolted."
"I didn't bolt," Sakura denied immediately.
"Sure you didn't. He left a message—he's got a mission, so he won't be able to train your team today, but he'd still like you all to practice together."
"Thanks." She looked at him, arms full of clothes. "Do I have time for a shower?"
Shisui grinned, "if you hurry. Breakfast is almost ready. Mom made pancakes."
The girl nodded and ducked into her private bathroom, locking the door behind her. She scrubbed quickly but thoroughly, wondering what Nozomi's sensei and team were like as she washed. Nozomi was a chunin, she knew, but that didn't mean her teammates were. Sakura shut the water off when she was clean and toweled off briskly. She dressed herself in traditional Uchiha garb and began brushing out Nozomi's long hair.
Was it wise to go try and train, though? She didn't know how Nozomi's body operated, what jutsu she possessed, nor how to work the sharingan. Sakura tied up her thick black hair and thought about it from another angle. Perhaps…there was a way for her to delve into Nozomi's memories and study her life. If it was possible, Sakura could learn how to use the sharingan, something she'd always wondered about. But there were other things as well. Like Nozomi's past, or her engagement to Itachi Uchiha.
She left the bathroom and headed down the hall, nearly getting lost once, but saving herself thanks to the warm aroma of pancakes that wafted through the narrow hallways. All Uchiha houses were built old fashioned; sprawling, with many rooms and long, seemingly endless halls. The floorboards creaked under her slight weight; Sakura knew the house was probably terrible creepy come nighttime.
"Nozomi good morning," her mother greeted as she entered the kitchen. Today the food was already on the table, showing just how late she'd woken up.
Sakura sat herself down, making herself smile at the woman. "Good morning, mother."
"You slept later than normal, dear. Are you feeling well?"
"Fine," Sakura assured her as Shisui loaded her plate with pancakes and sausage. She shot him a dark look over the table at the amount of food. His return smile was sweet as could be. Left with nothing else, she started on the pile of food, already envisioning the stomachache she would soon be suffering.
"Nozomi," Shisui called, waiting until she looked up to continue. "I'm leaving for work soon—there some stuff I need to do at the Police Branch, want to walk with me?"
Since she wasn't really sure where her teammates met up—and had no idea of what they looked like—she instantly agreed.
"Good. I don't like walking alone," he confessed.
Their mother beamed. "It's just like your academy days, Nozomi." Sakura looked over, eager to hear about her host's childhood. Her mother was far away in memories, the smile on her mouth fond. "Shisui always used to walk you to school, despite having missions of his own." Her brother nodded in agreement.
"You were cuter then. Quieter, too." Sakura glared at Shisui. He held up his hands, though his smirk was anything but apologetic. "Just saying, Nozomi."
They finished breakfast slowly, both getting later, but not wanting to break the warm easiness of the morning routine. Sakura had forgotten what it was like to eat with her family, and found that she missed the sound of her father's grumbling as her read the morning paper, and the sight of her mother hurrying to make Sakura's lunch for the day while also making breakfast. She had grown used to solitary meals in her small, quiet apartment.
Their mother walked them to the door and waved until they were out of sight, leaving Sakura with a dull ache in her chest. It had been so long since she'd gone to visit her own parents…
"What are you thinking about?" the boy asked suddenly, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You look like you're in pain."
She mumbled, turning her head to the ground, "I'm not."
Shisui took a long breath, but didn't push that. Instead he changed the subject. "Nozomi, tell me the truth—do you want to marry Itachi?"
She stopped in surprise. Shisui stopped as well, turning to stand in front of her. His dark eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions: worry, stress, anticipation…She looked away.
"It's okay to tell me the truth, Nozomi." The boy laid his hands on her shoulders. There was something very reassuring in the touch which motivated her to look up. "I'm your brother. I love you Nozomi. If you don't want to marry him, tell me at least."
"I don't," she whispered, speaking not for Nozomi, but for herself. Itachi was evil. Itachi had taken everything she loved from her and the idea of being engaged to him—even in a body that wasn't hers—repulsed her strongly.
"I thought so after yesterday." He rubbed her shoulders lightly. "Itachi he—he's a good boy, Nozomi. A good man, I should say," Shisui corrected, and there was a change in his voice. She got the feeling that the man inside the child Itachi scared her brother. His fears were well founded. "He'll take care of you."
What a joke. Sakura was tempted to tell him so, but it would lead to questions she absolutely could not answer, which would only leave her upset and frustrated.
"I guess."
"I wouldn't have let dad go through with the preparations if I didn't trust him Nozomi. He's saved my life numerous times."
Sakura bit down on her tongue savagely, the rage that was pooling in her gut almost making a rash attack against Itachi spill from her lips. Shisui carried on without noticing her sudden explosion of anger.
"Just think about it, okay? The wedding won't actually happen for a few more years. Talk to him, learn about him. You may come to like him someday."
"Sure," she mumbled, wanting to get off the topic. Shisui sensed it and began walking again. She stared at his back as she walked, studying the strong line of his shoulders and worrying about him. Shisui's faith in Itachi was foolish and would cost him everything. And now she was beginning to care for the boy—she had no doubts that by the end of the month she would love him passionately. He was the brother she'd longed for as a small child; the one who would protect her from the demons in her life.
Sakura took a breath and tucked her pain away into the back of her mind, averting her eyes to the stone path under her feet so she wouldn't trip.
oOo
Sakura stared across the training grounds at the boy who was currently the object of her deepest loathing and dislike. Dai Hyuuga—a junior member of the branch family, and still just a genin—was currently belittling her linage. It was like walking into her past and seeing the old, cocky Neji as he ruthlessly beat down on Hinata. But worse, Dai was so much worse.
He was apparently incredibly bitter that Nozomi had passed the chunin exams and continued to accuse her of cheating. He insisted that she'd only gotten through because she had the sharingan, and then added that she was a sad excuse for a ninja and an embarrassment to their team.
The third member of their squad was lazy enough to put Shikamaru to shame. He'd been asleep since they'd arrived and still hadn't moved. Her attention drifted back to Dai as he paused for breath.
"You're an imbecile," she told him swiftly. "If I passed because of my sharingan, then your byakugan should have helped you to pass. Now shut the hell up; you're getting on my nerves."
The boy spluttered, his cheeks turning a pale pink. He glared. "Shut up, Uchiha! I'm not the one with family on the committee!"
"Sure you are. There are numerous Hyuuga members on the committee." Feeling cruel, she added, "I suppose you think since you're a branch member they wouldn't help you along?"
The pink turned into a dark, angry red. "That's it, Uchiha. I'll kill you."
She held out a hand, needing to stop him. Despite not having a firm understanding of Nozomi's body, Sakura herself was a jonin-level medical ninja and was far more excelled than Dai. It would hardly be a fair fight. She would probably lose her temper, too, and wind up hurting the prick. Even if he deserved to be in pain for his spoiled display, it didn't mean she needed to take it into her own hands to put him in it.
"I passed the tests because I am skilled. End of story. If we're not going to train then I'm leaving."
Dai glared at her, his white eyes narrowed into slits. His hand was resting on his kunai pouch, ready to draw in the blink of an eye. "You can't leave. Sensei said—,"
"That we had to train together. We're not training." She gestured at the sleeping boy. "He's sleeping and you're whining about not being made a chunin when you should be training for next year!"
The boy flushed again, this time in embarrassment. "I—that is…"
"Save it. I'm going somewhere else to train, and you two can do whatever you want." Sakura turned on heel and stomped away from the boys, heading towards a different training ground where she could be alone to revel in just how terrible her first meeting with Nozomi's teammates had gone. To make it worse, she'd lost her temper and snapped at the Hyuuga boy. From his surprise and inability to think up a response, she had to guess that Nozomi didn't often argue back.
But, Sakura told herself fiercely as she stopped towards another training ground where she could think, she had to assume Nozomi didn't like her teammates either. The lazy boy was tolerable; he'd done nothing but sleep and, after years of knowing Shikamaru, she'd hardly even cared. But Dai—Dai was absolutely repulsive. She wanted to throttle him with something heavy just looking at his malicious face.
Sakura walked through a large gate that blocked off training ground eighteen, closing it softly behind her and heading towards a thick patch of trees. The girl sat down against the base of one, curling her knees up to her chest, dropping her head down onto them. A thick veil of black hair dropped into her line of vision. Nozomi really did have lovely hair, Sakura thought with an accompanying sigh of envy.
Alone in the quiet of the training ground, Sakura let her mind drift, feeling almost like she was falling asleep sitting up. As her mind focused on a blurry patch of faded memories, she dimly realized that they belonged to Nozomi. It could have only been a few months earlier; Shisui looked no different than he did now. Her family was celebrating the awakening of her sharingan. Sakura could see the pride shining in the eyes of Nozomi's father.
This memory was followed evenly by her graduation from the academy—this time Shisui was so much younger, boyishly handsome at fourteen. Itachi was with him; his cheeks still round with the baby fat of his youth. He was still solemn and older than his eight years. She let the image of his ancient eyes fade into a new thought.
Like the gentle flow of a stream, memories came and went, Sakura lulled almost to sleep observing them. As she watched, she began to piece together parts of Nozomi's life—shortly after obtaining her two-tomoe sharingan, she'd passed the chunin exams. After her success with jutsu, the sharingan and her passing of the exams, Itachi's father had approached hers to work out a future marriage plan.
Nozomi's parents were a high branch of the Uchiha clan, so a marriage to the head family was a feasible and wholly intelligent match. It was made only better by Itachi's extreme skill in all the ninja arts, and Nozomi's similarly growing abilities. They would make an excellent, powerful couple.
Or would have, at least.
Sakura raised her head slowly, wincing when there was a slight crick from having it tilted at the odd angle for so long. She rolled it around carefully as she stood, not wanting to make it worse. The muscles loosened, Sakura looked at the clearing in the training area and considered her options. Thanks to her look into Nozomi's mind, she now would have an aptitude towards learning to use the sharingan. It was an attractive thought.
If she knew how they worked, when she returned to her own body and time, she could use this information to aid Sasuke and disable Itachi. That decided her, in the end. The girl strode into the center of the clearing and stood very still, breathing deeply. In and out again, Sakura kept her breathing controlled and even.
Finally, when she felt like her nerves weren't going to explode—whether she was anxious or excited, she couldn't yet tell—Sakura began to focus Nozomi's chakra towards her eyes. Nozomi's chakra was far thicker and wilder than her own and it continued to slide out of her mind's grasp. It was like trying to tame a stray animal. Sakura's own chakra was smooth and soft and always came easily to her; she could control it like a water tap, turning it off and on at the mere flicker of her will.
Nozomi also had much more chakra than Sakura was used to. Though Sakura stored up her chakra all over her body, it never changed from the steady flow it always was. Nozomi's burned and fought her as she forced it through the optical nerves. It made her eyes water and she felt like cursing and spitting in frustration.
Nothing was ever this hard for her. Sakura didn't like not having control of her chakra.
Sweat rolled down her forehead; her skull was a throbbing ache. It felt like she'd been beaten about the head with a hammer, and she'd hardly made much progress. Though she'd gotten the chakra to start squirming into the girl's connecting nerves, the iris was fighting against her, resisting the change into something else.
Finally Sakura felt a sickening pulsing at the surface of her eyes and then a cold, darkness pressed in, making her blind for a third of a second. And then the world was vivid—everything around her sharp and focused. Nozomi's hands were wrapped in chakra; its color was a burning mahogany red. Sakura brought her shaking fingers together in preparation for the simple transformation jutsu and through her sharingan time seemed to slow and then speed up.
Her eyes moved faster than her hands. Before she was half through the seals, Nozomi's sharingan had already analyzed the outcome of the jutsu and were spinning as if to soak it up. The slow-motion images of the hand seals were fresh in her mind and, if she wanted, Sakura could easily repeat them, even before her hands would be able to complete their cycle.
Awe made her breath short and staggered. She'd never dreamed that the sharingan could be like this. She felt powerful and more skilled than ever before.
But it was soon over—Sakura had exhausted her body for the day and the sharingan faded. The strain of getting chakra into her eyes had left a large chunk of Nozomi's power drained, which had led to very brief flirt with the sharingan.
Sakura left the training grounds, running over everything she'd experienced with the sharingan and imprinting it down onto her brain, making sure she would never forget it. When she arrived home, her mother was waiting in the front room, her pretty face flushed.
"Oh Nozomi," she moaned in horror. Her eyes drifted over Nozomi's sweaty, dirty face. Sakura tried not to squirm, having a bad feeling about where this was going. "I expected you home an hour ago! You never train this long. Take off your shoes and go take a shower right now."
Sakura protested, "But I took one this morning."
"You're filthy, Nozomi. And your brother just called ahead to say that he'd invited Itachi for dinner." She huffed. "Honestly, that boy, bringing guests without making plans first!"
Sakura's good mood was doused with ice and she felt a shudder ripple through her spine. Eat dinner with a murderer? They must be joking, granted the joke wasn't a good one. She sure wasn't laughing.
"What's wrong?" Her mother didn't wait for answer as she pushed lightly on Sakura's shoulders, maneuvering her towards the hall. "Go, Nozomi. They'll be here in thirty minutes or less. Wear something nice, please."
She opened her mouth to lie about not feeling well, but then closed it. Her mother watched her walk down the hall to her room before going back into the kitchen to finish up dinner. Sakura took from the dresser a beige skirt that was tight and came to Nozomi's knees and paired it was a dark blue silk shirt. She took them into the bathroom with her and set them on the toilet while she showered.
Sakura turned the water as hot as she could bear, her skin turning a bright pink under the abuse. She scrubbed hard, her mind always on Itachi as the time slowly loomed closer to when she would be forced to sit near him. Sakura didn't know if she would be able to restrain herself so close to the monster.
It could be so fast—a butter knife to the neck was all it would take. She might be able to pull it off if he was unprepared. Itachi was fast, but so was Nozomi. Sakura could see it in her mind, already feeling the blood rushing out onto her hands as Itachi fell to the floor, dead. She could save Shisui. Sasuke could have his parents. The loss of a brother, compared to the loss of an entire family, was preferable in her mind. Sasuke would miss Itachi, but he would never be broken, not like he was now.
Sakura got out of the shower and changed into the clothes she'd picked out. Nozomi's face stared back at her in the mirror as she brushed out the girl's hair. The girl's large, pretty black eyes were wide with terror. Her soft mouth trembled, making her look frail. Sakura bit down on her bottom lip savagely, not wanting to see the proof of her own weakness.
She heard voices from the front of the house and she knew instinctually that Shisui and Itachi had arrived. Raising her eyes and closing off her emotions, Sakura walked out of her room and down the hall to meet them. Shisui spotted her first and grinned. Itachi regarded her with slight interest, but did not smile. Sakura didn't let her eyes focus on him for more than a second.
"How was training?" Shisui wanted to know. His eyebrows were raised, reminding her of the message her sensei had sent about her training with her teammates.
Sakura opted for honesty. "I trained alone."
"I should be upset, but I can't honestly say that I blame you. That Hyuuga kid has got serious issues. Now, you should say hi to Itachi." He whispered the last part for only her. Sakura steeled her nerves, trying to keep the sharp edge out of her tone as she addressed Itachi.
"Hello, Itachi-san. How are you?"
Itachi inclined his head, his eyes never losing their disinterested look. "I'm fine, thank you Nozomi-san."
It hardly sounded, or felt, like the exchange of a couple that was to one day be married. Or perhaps it did. Sakura had not been born into a large clan and did not, therefore, have any experience with arranged marriages.
Shisui looked disapproving of their curt transfer, but their mother had come to bid them to dinner and it ruined his chance to say anything about it. Nozomi's father was standing at the head of the kitchen table; he welcomed Itachi warmly, as though the boy were a second son. Sakura found—to her disgust—that her mother had arranged it so that she was seated next to Itachi, so close that their arms nearly touched.
Her fingers curled tightly around her fork, reminding her of her earlier day dream. Now that she was so close, it seemed realer. It would be so easy, a part of her moaned. She could do it before anyone had a chance to move…
Sakura had a hard time sitting through dinner. The delicious food was like ash in her mouth, and she tasted none of it. She couldn't focus on the conversation around her—just the sound of Itachi's husky voice sent her hackles up and made her raise the fork. She felt like a crazy person, her mind so warped by the idea of murder. It seemed to her like she was stooping to his level of ruthlessness.
By the time dinner was over and Itachi preparing to leave, Sakura felt as though a hundred years had gone by; aging her beyond her sixteen years.
The food she'd managed to consume turned to lead in her gut when her mother—quite loudly—suggested that Nozomi should walk Itachi to the front door. Her tone made it seem less like an implication and more like a firm command. Sakura smiled woodenly at her family and began to trek back to the front door with Itachi.
All night Itachi had been well-mannered and courteous, his charming façade never once slipping; it didn't change once they were alone. She walked him to the door, her hands longing to wrap around his pale neck and strangle the life from his treacherous body. Itachi offered her another polite bow that she had to return.
"Good night Nozomi," he murmured.
She glared at his back as he walked away from her house. "Good bye, Itachi."
Sakura didn't go back to see her family, instead walking straight to Nozomi's room and shutting the door firmly behind her. She began to strip out of her clothes and into a pair of warm pajamas. Shisui came into her room without knocking as she was lying down, wanting to get back to her own time and life.
"Nozomi, can we speak for a moment?" He lay down next to her in the bed; there was plenty of room for him. Sakura didn't resist when he wrapped an arm around her. It reminded her of the way she'd woken up that morning. "Why didn't you talk to Itachi?"
Sakura frowned at her wall. Telling him "I was ignoring him, so that I didn't shove my fork into his carotid artery," didn't seem like a very good idea. When she was silent, Shisui sighed quietly.
"I wish you would trust me on this one." He hesitated and then said, "once, awhile ago now, I lost my head in a fight. I would've died if Itachi hadn't been there to bring me back to earth. I—I'd just lost a teammate; a friend. I was so angry."
Sakura listened in hushed silence, a vision of Naruto's beaten body at her feet. She imagined the rage she would be capable of in that scenario and understood his feelings.
"But that's not the only time. He's always there to help me. He'll never hurt you, Nozomi. I know it."
Sakura closed her eyes. "If you're sleeping in here tonight get under the covers and shut up."
Shisui heard the wavering note in her voice, which signaled on coming tears and then wiggled around to join her under the blankets. His warmth against her back was comforting. Shisui fell asleep quickly, though she knew it was the light sleep of a ninja who was prepared to attack on a dime.
Sakura, however, stayed awake for a long time and cried silently for the boy who had placed so much faith into the wrong person. It was too easy to love Shisui; too easy to accept him as her own brother. And it was going to be hard—harder than anything she'd yet faced—to let him go.
A/N: Once again this chapter was self-edited, so there are probably a butt-load of mistakes that I missed. Considering that she's as bad as me, Makii will probably miss them too so, once again, I make this plea: somewhere out there, if there is someone (anyone) with editing experience—I NEED AN EDITOR. 'Cause gawd I suck.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, nor do I make any claims towards ownership.