In terms of pairings: this story is a little open-ended. The main strings of the plot are set, but I'm trying to make this play out as realistically as possible, so you can expect hints of romantic attachment or at least desire from many of the different perspectives that I might adopt—people are always complicated when it comes to sex and love. That being said, I'm ranging far afield of canon or popular pairings (with the exception of hints of Hinata/Naruto because it's fuckin cute). Please stay with me regardless; the point of this story isn't to be romantic but to show how relationships change and evolve when someone is going through mental stress. It's to examine post-war worlds.

Also: I also never addressed how much of this is canon. Obviously Neji's continued breathing and bitching is non-canon, but besides that one obvious change I'm trying to keep it in line with everything leading up to Kaguya's demise in the manga.

Also also: Reviews appreciated!

four: arrhythmia

On some days, and with a violence that frightened him, Kakashi hated the sight of Sakura. Couldn't handle her. Couldn't deal with the unnerving green eyes or the little half-smile or the lilt she'd had to her walk ever since she learned medical ninjutsu all those years back. Didn't want to hear her talk about who she'd met at the hospital or tease her when she tried to discuss the chemistry of poisons at dinner. Didn't want to even see her waving from across the street.

On these occasions he went to rather extraordinary lengths to avoid her. He took to the rooftops and went into the woods; he went to talk to Tsunade about nothing in particular; he retreated to the Adult section of Konoha's bookstore. Before the war he would have just trudged over to visit Obito and Rin, but once he'd caught her there, her fingers resting on Obito's name, and it had felt like such a violation of his personal space that he couldn't go back except for in the middle of the night, or when he knew she was away on missions.

It had been one of those days yesterday, from the moment she arrived at the gates to her curious quiet when they'd eaten. Glancing over at her now, masked and professionally clad as they waited for the expected Suna nin to arrive in the oasis, Kakashi knew this was foolish and irrational behavior, and maybe even downright harmful to both of them. He couldn't quite get his head around the why of it, particularly considering the ease with which Naruto wove through his daily life and the predictability of his grudging meetings with Sasuke. Maybe it was because she was the only one who couldn't talk to Sasuke anymore—that last proclamation of love and devotion and his tactful move of shoving her into a genjutsu after she'd just help save his slimy skin had broken something, finally, that she'd spent years trying to keep glued together. Now, her coldness towards Sasuke made his team seem all the more fractured for its apparent wholeness.

Maybe it was also because she had gone largely unacknowledged in the fight against Kaguya upon their return to the village. That fact never seemed to bother her; as she'd told him once, 'the important people know what happened.' But how could her ego keep taking these hits?

He heard Sakura sigh irritably and noticed her checking the watch she kept in her hip pouch—a present from her parents, he believed, for making jounin. The Suna nin were late. Which meant the caravan was already behind time. Shikamaru would call it a drag, and Kakashi was sure he agreed. This mission was already shaping up to be more trouble and strife than anticipated, and even as captain he knew absolutely shit about the whole situation and what it might lead to. The fact that it seemed to involve his kindest, pinkest, and only female student aggravated him, also, more than it should as an ANBU leader (and as an ex-teacher). Matsuo of the Sand seemed like an ordinary bloodsucking capitalist—Kakashi was biased, although who was he to judge when he made his living often by killing people?—with extraordinary connections. That was enough to warrant surveillance, sure, but ANBU surveillance? And a team of six? That took almost a fifth of the ANBU rotation out of commission for weeks. Sure, risk your life for the village. Of course, the Hokage knows more than you do. That was the blessing and curse of being Hokage. But some information would be nice.

Sakura looked tired, he noticed, even after the extra hours of rest he'd slipped into the rotation for her. It was coddling, he knew, and she'd resent him if she'd found out, but thankfully his kindness had slid under her impressive favoritism-radar. Like she refused to complain to Kakashi about her apparent invisibility to the godlike shinobi who'd chuckled like proud, perverse grandfathers over her two teammates after they defeated Kaguya, she also never told Kakashi when she was tired. 'The sexism in this business is incredible,' she'd told him once. 'I could pound the bones of the assholes of the shinobi world into dust, but there are too many of them to bother. It almost makes you want to become a civilian.'

Maybe it was because of her battlefield partnership with Obito. Maybe that was it. Something had really, fundamentally bothered him about her willingness, or ability to work with his old teammate—or maybe even her apparent affinity with him? Maybe it was the very vague similarities between Sakura and Rin. Probably it wasn't. Maybe it was the fact that Obito's willingness to help Naruto and Sasuke had apparently meant so much to Sakura that she went to Kakashi's teammates' grave and placed her fingers on the sharp carved characters that were not hers to know. Maybe it was the fact that the tale of his team under the Yondaime was a story that he would have told her—told all of them—in completion, only later. And it had all come back far too soon. Reanimations. Really. He'd almost thrown up his hands.

It was hard to put his finger to the reason for his harsh discomfort with her. Right now, Kakashi was glad that she was wearing a mask; it made it slightly easier, in those odd moments of hating her, to treat her like a comrade, even as she mocked him with Naruto's foxlike smile (because if ever there was a face to give you guilt, it was Naruto's). But—

Something in the air changed and Kakashi banished thoughts of his two old teams for his current one. The idea that I'm getting old came to him unbidden. Next to him, Shino hummed. "Suna nin. Approaching with sand."

Sakura groused, "Finally," and Shikamaru grunted in agreement.

The Kazekage and his shinobi escort arrived with an unpleasant swirl of grit and wind: Gaara, his brother with the puppets—Kankurou?—a brown-haired girl, and two male nin sporting traditional head wrappings. Kakashi wiped a grainy patch of sand from his shirtsleeve and inclined his head to the party. "Kazekage-sama. Konoha ANBU at your—surprised—service. To what do we owe the honor?"

Gaara nodded as well, and his black-rimmed eyes roamed the masks before him, as if he was looking for someone in particular. His gaze hovered on Kakashi. "Taichou. I realize it is unusual for a kage to assign a mission in the field, but under the circumstances—" Gaara jerked his head in a way that Kakashi supposed meant "the desert"—"my sand has had to come into play."

So they'd been watching the caravan from afar, as he'd suspected since Tsunade had informed him of Gaara's likely presence. How lovely, Kakashi thought with exasperation, to have had that luxury. "How far away is the caravan?"

"Only fifteen kilometers, and moving about twice that fast every hour," one of the head-wrapped nin answered. "Their pace will slow as they continue through the desert. They'll most likely stop here in the next thirty minutes."

When Gaara made no move to add information to this response, Kakashi could feel his temper rise. "Kazekage-sama, what should we know about this caravan?" he asked directly, forgoing all diplomacy. "What is the object of this surveillance and how directly should we be involved?"

If the Kazekage was a man to purse his lips, Kakashi thought he might have done it then. "The daimyo of my country approved the movement of this caravan to Kumogakure without consulting me. As head of a hidden shinobi village, it is expected and necessary that I am told of communication with other nations' hidden villages—this is set down in our charter, however… tenuous… that arrangement might be at times." Gaara may have hissed, and continued quite darkly. "This is not the first time the daimyo has neglected or violated protocol between our village and the country government, but this is the first time it has involved two other nations. The caravan has samurai guards bought from Iron and is heading to a hidden village in a land which has no use for its goods. I am suspicious. So is your Hokage. It seems that the daimyo of your country is also becoming quite interested in this company's wares."

Shikamaru's voice came from behind Kakashi, to his left. "Suspicious of what? An inter-country coup of hidden villages? Or just a trade monopoly?"

Gaara shrugged. "It may be that. It is probably something more complex. As it stands, I asked for a Konoha squad because I cannot spare so many shinobi at the moment. Sunagakure is undergoing some internal turmoil that must be seen to." In response to the question that tugged on all their lips, Gaara frowned and shifted his weight. "The village has been put under martial law for the time being."

"Threats to civilians?" Kakashi asked.

Puppet-man spoke up, looking almost accusingly at his brother. "No. Threats to the Kazekage. The daimyo has limited the village's water supply and people are getting angry. Shinobi as well as civilians."

"He does not like that I point out his dishonesty," the Kazekage said in a soft snarl. "He wishes for my village to suffer for my impertinence." Gaara gave off an angry vibe now; Kakashi nearly took a step back. Shukaku or no, the smaller man had retained the killer intent of a tailed beast. "It will not stand," Gaara added, a bit unnecessarily. "But I have to maintain an impression of calm subservience for now. A clone of my sand is in place currently, aided by my sister. The village needs water and we can only do so much while the daimyo holds control of the reservoirs. So: you are here less in the interests of Konoha than in the interests of shinobi villages as a whole. Since the war, we have all come under threat by our host countries."

Slowly, so slowly, pieces were fitting together. Too slow for Kakashi's liking. He felt Sakura next to him bouncing on her toes, as she did when she was itching to ask a question. He asked it instead. "You've been watching with sand. We cannot do that. We have long-range surveillance specialists here, but close contact with the caravan is unavailable to us."

Gaara nodded. "You three," he said, not taking his eyes off of Kakashi as the brown-haired girl and the two bandaged nin next to him stood at attention, apparently quite familiar with being addressed thusly, "watch for the caravan approaching. Report back when they are in sight." When the three had disappeared, Gaara exchanged an ambiguous glance with his brother, who nodded. The Kazekage focused his attention on Kakashi's squad again, and this time the jade eyes rested on the shortest member. "Sakura."

Kakashi already didn't like where this was going.

Sakura loosened her mask so that it fell just below her eyes and bowed a little in greeting. "Gaara. Kankurou-san. Good to see you."

"And you, sweetheart," Kankurou answered—most unprofessionally—and to the immediate distaste of Kakashi and, by the looks of it, the Kazekage. "You look better in pink."

Gaara did not berate his brother, though it looked like he'd have liked to. "Sakura, I asked for you specifically. I'm sure this has not escaped your notice. There are confidential reasons why we believe that you need to be the closest to the caravan. I am not sure yet how much to reveal—taichou, you must trust me, if you can, that this is crucial. There are aspects of Haruno Sakura's experience which may become particularly important."

He was talking to Kakashi but kept his eyes locked on Sakura, who flicked her gaze between the two brothers of the desert. This bothered Kakashi more than a little, but Sakura seemed to almost relax as the Kazekage stared uncompromisingly at her—it seemed, for a moment at least, that she understood something that she had not understood before. Shikamaru, from his small "hm," seemed also to have gained a dawning comprehension.

Annoying. Kakashi shrugged and raised an unseen eyebrow at Sakura when she turned to look at him over the rim of her mask. "We suspected as much," he said, pulling the same favor by looking at her and addressing the Kazekage. "How would you have us insert her?"

"The caravan has been assigned a group of Suna nin, since I found out about it. None of whom," he added in a black tone, "are particularly trustworthy. But this is a traditional guard for those who are easily weakened by the desert. The shinobi are to disband once they reach the border of our country and return to the village. Sakura will not take the place of these shinobi. They do not, in fact, know she is joining them."

"I'm going as a civilian?" There was no small amount of contempt in Sakura's tone. It almost made Kakashi smile.

Gaara's lips quirked. "No. You will be taking the place of an existing medic—one of the daimyo's rather extensive shinobi medic squad. She is called Tsukiko. She will have to be removed, although I would prefer that she not die—it might attract attention."

"They won't notice I'm a different person?"

Kankurou chuckled. "Wait til you see her. The daimyo likes his lady medics all wrapped up—it's some weird fetish." Kakashi thought briefly that Kankurou was the least justified in disparaging others' weird fetishes. "She's got a veil over her eyes and bandages all up her arms. Hair is covered and of a similar color to yours, anyway. But shorter. You'll fit in fine as long as you don't wow them—she's a chuunin level. Nothing special, just a basic field medic. And she almost hasn't said a word in the three days they've already traveled. The only trouble you might have is with the medic's assistant, but he's rather conveniently working for us. One of those few shinobi we can trust."

"Why not just use him?" Kakashi asked.

Sakura answered for them. "Medic's assistants aren't usually allowed one-on-one access with patients. If one the daimyo's personal team is on board this caravan, it means that Matsuo of the Sand expects to be treated in person, if such a case arises." Kankurou nodded.

Kakashi held his hand up. "Wait. For clarification: you want this medic kidnapped and swapped with Sakura. You want us to hold this medic with us until—what? Hostages will slow us down."

Kankurou winked, and Kakashi wished he wouldn't. "That's where we come in. If you perform the switch tonight, we can take her back to Sunagakure for interrogation and holding, and send back what information we get."

Gaara looked at Kakashi again and spoke in that eerily calm voice. "Taichou. I would like to request direct and individual contact with Sakura while she is in-country." Kakashi felt himself bristle, but Gaara had anticipated this. "In order to act the part of a Wind native close to the daimyo, she will need information that we do not have time to relay in the next ten minutes. And in the open air of the desert, any efforts at contact your team possesses may be seen. After you come to covered land, we can resume more official contact between your squad and my office."

He was right; Shino's bugs could only talk to Shino, and Pakkun and Sai's birds might be seen by the caravan in such open terrain. Kakashi sighed. "You'll be giving her some of your sand, then?"

"Yes. A small patch on the skin that will react to her chakra." Gaara turned to Sakura, who was still watching Kakashi curiously over the rim of her mask. She now looked at the Kazekage. "You need only speak to it as if it were a transmitter. The message will reveal itself to me. I will be able to contact you in the same way."

She nodded, and Kakashi felt himself frowning. Disguised as a chuunin-level medic, Sakura would be safe enough; at least she could display some jutsu without being suspicious. Shino would keep bugs with the caravan and Neji would keep an eye on it. He would have to split the team, though; Sai and Shikamaru and Neji ahead of the caravan, scouting its next steps, and himself and Shino behind it. They would have to stay close enough for the transmitters to work—a couple kilometers apart at most. And camouflaging themselves in the sands would be tough work until they got out of Wind Country. He chewed on this for a moment before speaking again. "Okay. We'll get the real medic out when they stop here at the oasis," he ordered. "It's the only place they might be separated and perhaps relaxed."

The blandly-masked Sai moved a bit closer to Sakura. "That is coming quickly, then," she said quietly.

"Indeed." Kakashi glanced at Shino. "Could you provide a distraction? A, er—mild swarm?" Shino nodded. "Right. When they stop for water, a swarm comes up. You," he said, directing his gaze now to Shikamaru, "will hold her and force her away from the group. We'll have to move quickly to get her clothes and wrappings and belongings to Sakura. If they ask, you can pull damsel-in-distress."

"And the samurai?" Kankurou questioned. "They won't be taken too aback by a bunch of bugs."

Kakashi saw Shino stiffen and chuckled. "I wouldn't be so sure," he told the puppet master. "But most of them will still be guarding the goods of the caravan. It's the Suna nin we have to fool."

Very suddenly, Sakura interjected. "I would—I would like to have someone with me," she said in a rush.

Kakashi looked at her, surprised; her cheeks, or at least what he could see of them, were flushed, and her eyes were hard. "It makes strategic sense, taichou," she added, her voice steadier now. "The rest of you will be kilometers away in order not to be seen. If I'm traveling in a company of twenty or so samurai guards and, at least for a few days, a bunch of Suna nin, and something goes wrong, I might need immediate backup. And a second pair of eyes, at least. Surveillance can spare one more as the medic's assistant, if you don't mind losing your spy for one of ours."

There was a brief silence, then a sigh. Shikamaru, leaning against a tree, had raised his hand. "I'll do it. You don't need me for surveillance." Kakashi groused internally, but it made sense. If anyone was to join Sakura, it should be the master strategist; if anyone was to keep an eye on everything at once, it would be Shikamaru.

Gaara considered this. "I see no problem with that. You can take the assistant from the group in the same fashion as the medic?"

Just another snag in the plan. The caravan couldn't be more than five minutes away by now. Kakashi grunted out a "yes" and Gaara looked satisfied. "Kankurou will be with you to take the medic girl," he said. "I will be in contact with you after the caravan moves out from the open air. The assistant is Kota, but I doubt he has told anyone his name. The Suna nin are not aware of his presence."

Kakashi turned back to his team. "Form a perimeter in the short trees around the water source—Sakura and Shikamaru, mask yourselves in the brush to the west. Sai and Kankurou will be above you to take the two once you get them out of sight. Eyes on," he told Neji brusquely. "When the two are taken we'll need to do some quick changing. I suggest the two of you begin to disrobe in the scrub and be ready for their belongings to come to you."

Kankurou looked a little gleeful at the idea of being perched above Sakura as she changed; Kakashi felt his eye twitch. "To which part of the caravan do our two belong?" he asked tersely.

"The second-to-last car," Gaara answered. At least one of them was professional. "The guards have the last car as well as the first three, but patrol the whole caravan; the target is in the fourth and his assistants in the fifth. The next four are all cargo."

An approaching tap of feet signaled the return of the brown-haired kunoichi. "They're coming up the dune," she told the Kazekage. "Two minutes away."

Gaara nodded. "Position yourselves. Sakura," he said as Kakashi bid his squad to go, "your arm."

She held it out and Kakashi watched thin tendrils of sand snake up her pale skin and collect in a square patch on the underside of her forearm. Better her than me, he thought, resisting the urge to shudder. It had to itch. She looked up at the Kazekage. "How short is her hair?"

Gaara blinked at her. "Shoulders."

"And, um—" Sakura let out a rather shaky breath. Kakashi couldn't fathom her nerves, but Gaara was peering at her with a sudden frown, as if he was seeing something he didn't like. Sakura appeared to be ignoring this; she swallowed and lifted her chin to the Kazekage. "Okay." She flexed her arm and the sand stirred slightly.

The Kazekage nodded to her in—what, thanks? Before backing away and disappearing in that same awful cloud of sand that had preempted him. Kakashi ran with Sakura to her place in the scrub, where Shikamaru was already taking off his shirt. Sakura unmasked herself and turned to Kakashi with glittering eyes. Was she tearful? "Taichou, cut my hair, please."

Kakashi was taken aback. "What?"

"Cut my hair, Kaka-sensei, come on. He said shoulder-length." She was taking off her shirt—thank heaven she was wearing mesh underneath—and sliding her pants down her hips. "Do it quickly, Kakashi, and take the hair, they're coming—"

Okay. Awkwardly, he gathered her hair into some semblance of a ponytail and took a kunai from his belt. Her hair was thick, and softer than he would have thought. The dark brown looked strange against her skin. Okay. One slice and it was done; it felt rather like severing a muscle. Newly freed, her hair fell against her neck and she thanked him; Kakashi leapt up into his hiding place next to Neji, holding onto the hair for lack of any idea what to do with it.

There was a rumble of wheels and voices as the caravan pulled up to the oasis. Kakashi spotted five samurai with big barrels to fill, several sunburned assistants, a couple of Suna nin who stood at the edge of the greenery, chatting with another, a swaggering and clean-shaven man with another guard following him—that had to be Matsuo of the Sand—and there, there were their targets, a smallish woman with a veil and wrappings all around her arms and neck and a slim man with traditional Suna wrappings around his mouth and longer, shaggy hair. Below him, he saw Sakura smooth her hair and Shikamaru let his down. Shikamaru wouldn't match the Suna spy perfectly, but it would have to be good enough. Most likely, no one in the caravan had paid attention to him.

As the group approached the water below, Kakashi spoke into his transmitter. "Now."

There was always something very satisfying about that—about giving the signal and watching the events he planned unfold. Especially if they were done well. One of the samurai stepped into a low bush; Shino's bugs suddenly exploded from it in a nice improvisational touch, startling the man, who gave a shout that was echoed throughout the oasis as the insects swirled around the scene. Kakashi watched the Suna nin on the edge carefully; if they were on their game they might sense the chakra in Shino's bugs. But they seemed to find the scene quite funny and made no move to intervene where there didn't seem to be real danger. Nicely done, Kakashi told himself.

The medic had dropped her canteen and was yelping, trying to bat away the insects surrounding her. Kakashi watched as a shirtless Shikamaru attached his shadow to her and her assistant the Suna spy, dragging them backwards among the chaos; the Suna nin struggled, but the medic was going backwards half of her own accord in an effort to avoid the bugs darting at her face.

When they were almost directly underneath them, Kakashi saw strings of blue and traced them below, to a dark rock that he assumed was one of Kankurou's puppets. As quickly as ROOT had taught him, Sai dropped to ground level and incapacitated the medic and assistant with two quick strikes to the back of their heads.

Sakura and Shikamaru busily went about stripping themselves and the unfortunate people whose identities they were stealing. Neji's voice sounded off in his ear. "The target is getting angry. He may call in the Suna nin or more samurai. Best to ease off on the swarm."

Kakashi saw: the burly Matsuo was in an uproar, swearing at the samurai who had apparently set off the torrent of insects above. The Suna nin now looked less amused than confused; apparently it wasn't natural for desert swarms to stick around for so long. "Copy. Ease up, Aburame. Shikamaru and Sakura, leave your transmitters when you go out."

The bugs began to lessen. Sakura looked up at him, all questioning green eyes now that her hair was covered by a white scarf, which she'd adjusted to cover the telltale diamond mark on her forehead. Wrappings went from her wrists to her shoulders and she'd stripped the medic of her white uniform: a skirt, a sleeveless and high-collared shirt, and black sandals. Her eyes were brilliant. Kakashi hoped they wouldn't be noticed. "The transmitters might attract attention," he said over the wire. "We'll be watching. We'll take your masks. Don't worry."

The last bit was unnecessary, he knew. But Sakura nodded and affixed her veil underneath the headscarf; it dulled the green of her eyes and left only her mouth clearly visible. She sent a smile up to her sensei and placed her transmitter on top of her clothing and her ANBU mask; Shikamaru did the same, and Sai took them both. With one last look appraising one another, Sakura and Shikamaru ventured out into the clearing, coughing and waving their arms to dispel the last of the bugs. The rock that was Kankurou's puppet scuttled over and cleanly trapped the two naked and unconscious nin inside.

Kakashi nodded as one of the samurai said something to Sakura and she smiled, turning away to fill a canteen at the water source, which she handed to Shikamaru. "We're good," he said. "They're in. Two at the head, two at the back—you know the drill." Silently, Neji and Sai disappeared; Shino stayed next to Kakashi and Kankurou until the caravan picked up pace again, all the barrels filled and repacked.

Kankurou nodded to them. "Alright then, I'm off with my cargo," he said amiably. "Thanks for all of this. I know the Kazekage appreciates it."

Shino nodded—brothers in weirdness, Kakashi supposed—and Kankurou vanished as well, in another one of those puffs of sand that must have come from his brother.

Kakashi craned his neck to see between the branches. He could make out Sakura's white-capped head and Shikamaru's lazy amble. "Be advised," he said into his transmitter. "Caravan is heading north-northeast. Stay some distance ahead and keep apprised of their movements. Relay any changes back. We'll fall behind in a couple moments here."

Sai's voice, clear as day. At least transmitters functioned beautifully in the open desert air. "Copy, taichou."

Kakashi stood from his crouch and felt something in his hand—he'd forgotten about the hair he'd cut from Sakura. He stood there, holding what he'd taken from her in a strangely fierce grip. Odd that he'd forgotten about it. A gust swept in from the north—the caravan would be moving against the wind. That was going to be a pain.

Kakashi opened his fist, which was starting to hurt, and Sakura's hair fell from his grip, separating and soaring on the wind.

He stretched his legs and remembered the first time he'd seen her with short hair, coming out of the Forest of Death with stab wounds and red eyes and a strangely uneven chop. He thought of her hands on Obito's shoulders, thick black lines traversing her face.

"Okay," he said to Shino. "Let's move."

A veil and bandages might make for good protective clothing against pathogens and poisons, but damn it if they didn't make Sakura sweat like a fiend. The first two hours out in the open sun hadn't been too much of a problem—the head covering kept heat from absorbing into her newly-darkened hair and the sun had still been weak—but now that they had passed midday Sakura was starting to feel the day's heat collecting in the slow drips down her back and chin. It would make for a clammy night once the sun set. And her feet, pitifully unused to long, chakraless transport and in shoes just a little too big, were already hurting. But what kind of ANBU complains about sore feet?

Next to her, Shikamaru sighed, and she felt a small and physical pang of guilt or shame. He shouldn't have volunteered to come; he hadn't needed to come. It was just that when Gaara had been briefing them she'd felt the onset of another attack: the unceasing sound of her own heart, the thunderous roar of it in her ears, and, always, the approaching blackness, and Inner Sakura's despicably cheerful whistle. You'll fail…

Sakura had snapped, suddenly, remembering what Tsunade had said. 'Find someone to help' or something like that. Someone she could trust to act and not overreact if such a panic occurred during the mission. Secretly, she'd hoped for Shikamaru; he'd already seen her first attack during their last mission together, and she didn't want to have to explain herself to anyone. Shikamaru, while at least more conversational than Shino, wouldn't ask questions the way Sai or Kakashi or even Neji might. Hyuuga Neji, with his unceasing calm and his curious pale eyes, his tendency to see through and into her. More than anything, she did not like losing herself in front of someone like Hyuuga Neji.

I will not lose myself. I will not. This is only anxiety, and it will stop.

"What are you thinking?"

Shikamaru was looking at her questioningly, and she felt her cheeks warm underneath the veil. "Only that we still have so little to go on," she answered quietly, acutely aware of the revolving presence of all twenty samurai around the caravan.

He nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing. But—"

"You have a plan."

Shikamaru looked annoyingly self-satisfied. "Yes, I do, and you won't like it. There's not much we can do with the Suna nin escort, after all—too much risk of them sensing us if we use techniques of any kind." He paused to check that no one was close and ambled a little closer to Sakura, ducking his head like a subordinate. Rather perversely, Sakura rather liked that view. "I was thinking that we might stage an accident with our target."

She nodded and clasped her hands together, as if showing a healing technique; anyone looking might think they were talking shop. "What kind of accident?"

"One requiring medical attention." Shikamaru shrugged and mimicked her hand gesture—incorrectly, so that she had to pretend to take time to instruct him on the proper form. "Nothing serious: a trip or slip at the next oasis, or a pothole in the road that, if we're lucky, jars him enough to make him consider needing your services. He seems to spend quite a bit of time in his personal car, so it might be best to try to get him there."

Sakura huffed. "Don't blame him. I wouldn't mind getting out of this awful heat."

"Better get used to it. Oi, look—we have company."

Sakura looked at his hand; two small beetles rested there, resting their wings on his skin in a distinctly unnatural way. One of them landed on Sakura's exposed neck—it felt somehow sweet. Shino's insects, taking samples of their chakra.

"There's a Stage Two of this plan, though," Shikamaru said. "I thought you ought to try getting to know him when you're in there."

"Getting to know him? As in, friendly jokes, slap-on-the-shoulder knowing? Or, you know, private kunoichi lessons at the Academy learning?"

Shikamaru quirked his lips and repeated the gesture, this time getting it correct. "The latter. A little flirtation never hurt anyone, especially if he gets comfortable enough around you to get sloppy. And if his file and what we've seen of him are any indication, and my analysis is up to speed, he'll be happy for the attention."

Sakura patted him on the shoulder. "I have to say, I'm not much of a seductress. Flower-arranging was the only bit I was good at, and that was all Ino's help."

"You can't flower-arrange yourself into this guy's lap and you're less of a threat than I thought," Shikamaru quipped, and Sakura almost laughed.

"You're going to get us caught only hours in," she muttered. "Kota."

"Yare, yare. Don't worry. We've got some backup." He looked pointedly at her arm, where she felt the sand stirring as if responding to his look. It creeped her out more than a bit, this sand, as had Gaara when he'd put it there. He'd looked her in the eye like he could see what was happening, like he was talking to Inner rather than her. It was the first time she could remember being touched by his sand so delicately, so precisely. It was almost like an art, the way it coiled up her arm and shifted now against her skin. It was clear it called out to the far-away Kazekage, but it also responded to her chakra, rising and falling with natural cycles.

"Kota," she asked quietly, "how does the Kazekage react with his sand now that Shukaku is gone?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "No idea. You'd have to ask a Hyuuga for that. But loss of the demon wouldn't change his abilities, only lessen them in some ways—de-automatize his responses, for example. Still," he added, his voice a little dark, "worth remembering that that sand is soaked in blood. That carries no small amount of power with it, and probably some significance, too."

Interesting. "Significance? As in… ano… spiritual significance?"

She'd predicted Shikamaru's scoff; he never held much stock in the spiritual aspect of chakra beyond what mattered for its useful practice. "I don't know about that. But absorbing the natural chakra of so many people, and in such ways… theoretically, it would grant the sand a certain affinity to chakra in general. A natural object made not-quite-natural." He glanced over at her. "Why?"

She folded her arms. "It responds to me. I know it's supposed to, but I've never felt anything like this before—like—"

The voice rang like bells at a funeral. That's not true.

Instant dizziness. Sakura blinked and kept walking. Forced herself to breathe deeply as her airway seemed to constrict.

"Like?" Shikamaru's voice called her back, a line thrown. There was definite fear in her now, a nervousness that had nothing to do with what Inner might do to her or what was happening inside her head. She was on a mission. She was on a mission. And she was undercover. She couldn't let herself fall to pieces, or she wouldn't be the only one in trouble.

One foot in front of the other. She shook her head. "Like something foreign—something else—is coming into sync with me—changing my own rhythm as it changes its own."

Shikamaru slowed his pace to fall a couple steps behind her. She heard his smirk. "Doesn't that happen with you women all the time?"

She felt no reserves about blowing their cover by turning to deliver a sound smack to the back of his head. Shino's bugs swerved neatly out of the way.

Neji deactivated his Byakugan and spoke into his transmitter. "The kikaichu have found them. The caravan is still heading north—they look to be heading towards a path leading to the border. It's a commercial route. They'll meet a small village by nightfall."

After a moment, Shino's voice crackled into being. "The beetles will report back occasionally. Nothing unusual yet found. Nara has been thinking."

"Do we know what their plans are?" Neji asked.

"Negative," Kakashi answered. "But they will be impatient to find something. Keep a close eye, especially at night. You didn't see anything odd about the cargo?"

"Nothing."

"Then keep that distance."

"Hai."

Sai had been looking over the dunes for the whole exchange. Neji stood from his crouch and joined him: the sun was burning a white streak in the cloudless western sky. They'd long ago put their traveling cloaks on to avoid sunburn, but the heat was getting oppressive.

Sai clipped a scroll on his pack more securely. "What else did you see?"

Neji started—how had he known? The masked face was as impassive as the real one underneath it. "What do you mean?"

"You tensed slightly, watching the caravan. And you hesitated before you answered taichou." His partner's voice was annoyingly light and cheerful. "I have learned body language from watching my teammates interact," he added, as if explanation was wanted or warranted. "It comes in handy for those with masks."

"I'm sure your teammates give you much to study," Neji muttered. The functionality and dysfunctionality of the remade Team Seven was well known. "Our kunoichi undercover."

"Sakura. The hag."

"Yes—Sakura." It was not ANBU code to use real names during the mission, but this one had come together so quickly and so oddly that it seemed hardly to matter. Neji opened his mouth, ready to explain that her chakra had flared again, circling out from her forehead in one quick pulse. But for some reason it didn't feel like something worth telling. "She punched Shikamaru. She has too much temper for ANBU work sometimes." He marked the time. "We should move ahead. We'll be in their line of sight soon."

Sai nodded and the two sprung away. Neji heard Sai give a thoughtful 'hmm' and, quite conscientiously, didn't ask why—but of course Sai answered anyway. "She would not do something out of line with her role," he said. "She has gotten better at controlling her anger. I would know."

Yes. Of course. But Hyuuga Neji shrugged it off: the control problems of the medic were of no problem so long as she could still perform well. The flashes at her forehead that he'd picked up on so recently had probably always been there since she'd started storing chakra there. Still, it annoyed him for reasons he could not place. "Her emotional state," he said tersely, "should not have to be a concern of the mission."

"Yes." Sai spoke mildly, as was his way. "But it is mine."

He leapt past Neji, who couldn't help but wish that he'd been sent ahead on his own.

Tsukiko's box in the caravan car that Sakura and Shikamaru shared didn't have much in it, which was rather troubling—Sakura had hoped to glean some information about the girl to beef up her rather mediocre acting skills. But here, spread out on the pallet, this was all she had: a comb with a heavy white handle, a photo of an older woman that had to be Tsukiko's mother, a small personal stock of generic medical ingredients and hygienic gloves, a stack of extra clothing including a thickly-lined cloak, and sheaves of unmarked paper. "So. A writer—a journal-keeper? Not a medic's notebook. Maybe a diary." Sakura rubbed a piece of paper between her thumb and forefinger—it was thick and smooth, and creamy white. "Expensive. But no pen…" Sakura scraped inside the box again, to no avail. Had Tsukiko forgotten a pen? Not likely. Maybe she'd been carrying it and it had dropped during the panic at the oasis? Okay, come back to that later. The heavy comb. "Ceramic? No—ivory. Also expensive." Medics weren't usually paid that much. Maybe a daimyo's medics were. Maybe she should change professions. There was hair in it, brown hair, but not much, which meant Tsukiko cleaned it. That and the perfectly-folded clothing… "A neat freak. Or at least very organized. And clean." The photo was self-explanatory; she cared for her mother a great deal.

Put it all together and what did she get? Not fucking much. Sakura rubbed her forehead. The caravan rumbled under knees and she shifted position, settling into a cross-legged seat. She'd hopped in the car when the sun had begun to set, telling Shikamaru loudly that she needed a rest. Now, as her car slowly rolled to a stop, there was a rap at the door. She opened it and peeked outside, mussing her headscarf to make it look like she'd been lying down. Shikamaru had put his hair back in a low ponytail, apparently unable to stand it hanging at his neck anymore. "Tsukiko." He nodded to her. "We're on the outskirts of a village. Hosh-san here—" he jerked his head towards an armor-clad young man who looked rather slim to be a samurai—"informs me that we're stopping for the night."

Sakura stepped down from the car and tugged her scarf straight. "That was a lovely nap—thanks for giving me a break, Kota," she said breezily to Shikamaru. "Hosh-san?"

"Tsukiko-san, you look quite refreshed." The samurai looked up at her rather eagerly. She hoped that they hadn't already talked much, or this would be difficult.

She chuckled. It couldn't hurt to be friendly. "I'm sorry to come out looking like springtime when you've been walking the whole time. Did you say we're staying the night here?"

Hosh nodded. He had a full beard, she noticed, which had to be hot under that helmet and the sun. She guessed him to be around twenty-seven. "Matsuo-sama is staying in the town. We'll restock. So dinner's not a family affair tonight—either eat in town or go to the kitchen car by yourself."

Hm. So dinner was usually all of the caravan members together? That would make observing Matsuo a little easier. But then there was still the matter of the cargo—how to inspect it with so many damn samurai hanging around? "Do you think it would be alright to walk around the village?" Sakura asked. "Just for a little."

Hosh chuckled and shook his finger at her. "Now, now, girl, you know the rules. The medic stays with the caravan. Your minion here can go, though, if you need anything. Or I'd be happy to ask someone else to."

Shikamaru's face expressed exactly what he thought of being called her minion. Sakura felt a twinge of annoyance—she'd have to be with the caravan the entire time? She feigned resignation with a sigh. "You're right. I suppose it's for the best, in case someone gets hurt. Well—Kota, could you do me a favor? It's not desperate, but it'd be good to have some more, um, gloves. We're fully stocked now, but you never know, and it's not like we can reuse them."

"The shops will probably be closed," Hosh advised. "And I don't know that this place will have medical gloves."

Shikamaru nodded to Sakura, quirking an eyebrow. "No matter. I'll look very hard."

"Take all the time you need," she told him. "I'll finish up that inventory."

Hosh watched Shikamaru walk away rather cheerfully. "Don't forget to sign out with Arashi-sama!" He pointed to a samurai at the front of the caravan, a beefy man with a gray beard and two heavy-looking swords strapped to his waist and Shikamaru nodded, changing course to give his name. Sakura waited until he'd safely passed the gates of the village before turning back to the car.

"Tsukiko-san," Hosh said from behind her, and she turned around, "I thought you didn't like him very much! Didn't you say only yesterday that he should, and I quote, 'eat sand?'"

Sakura had to muffle her laugh, but this was rather concerning news. So she and Hosh had gotten close enough to make fun of her assistant together? Apparently she was pulling off their friendship well enough now, but what if he referenced something else later on? She hoped fervently that the real Tsukiko was awake and under interrogation. "He's still a moron," she conceded, "but he did help me when those bugs swarmed us at the oasis. I can handle blood and bones, but having those tiny wings in my face—" She gave a shudder that was half-real and heard a rather angry buzzing by her ear. Sorry, Shino's pals. "Kota calmed me down."

Hosh winked. "Bet he likes you. Boys are always rude to girls they like. 'Til it counts."

"Well then, Hosh-san, you must hate me very much," she joked. "But I don't think you're quite old enough yet to be dispensing wisdom on the ways of love. Excuse me, though—I really do have to finish this inventory."

It had been a gamble—a joke and a quick dismissal. But he had joked with her first, so her odds were good—and indeed, Hosh chuckled. The air left her mouth in a whoosh; she turned again to go back into the car, but Hosh had grabbed her hand.

Uh-oh. He was looking through her veil now, trying to peer at her eyes. "I know enough about the ways of love, Tsukiko-san," he said with barely-concealed eagerness. "Don't you remember?"

Shit. She'd been intimate with this guy, and he was guarding her caravan car? What a mess. Sakura couldn't help the blush that spread over her face, although in this case that was probably a good thing. Quickly calculating her moves, she pulled her hand from his. "Hosh-san," she said, trying to make her voice both breathless like Hinata and Temari-style firm, "I am here as a professional, and so are you. It's not the time."

Her would-be samurai lover looked put out, but didn't argue. "It's a long trip with only me and your assistant by your side," he said with a half-grin. "And I know you at least like me more than him."

Not fucking likely. Sakura pursed her lips but didn't dare do anything else until she knew more about Tsukiko's personality. Her guesses had been on point so far, but it wasn't worth pushing. "Good night, Hosh-san," she said primly, and launched herself into the caravan car.

She knelt again on the pallet, frustrated at the ludicrousness of it all, and waited to hear Hosh trundle back to his post slightly away from the car before unwrapping the bandages on her left arm. Sakura had checked the car earlier, and the only bugs to be found were Shino's. She waved one away now. "Go look at someone else's chakra," she muttered. "Haven't you had enough of mine?"

Exposed, Gaara's sand took the liberty of running up and down her arm. It made her shiver. "I have a message," she said quietly, but the sand didn't stop moving. She assumed it was listening—or whatever. "Tsukiko has had an intimate relationship with one of the samurai. Name of Hosh. I need stories, behaviors—anything that can help. Of anyone, he would blow our cover." She paused. "We may create a distraction tomorrow. Something to get Matsuo out of his caravan car and maybe even need medical attention. Details following." Another pause. The sand was floating now. It moved over her cheekbones and under her ears. She felt distinctly odd. Her heart was thundering again. "Whatever information acquired about the daimyo—please send my way." The sand briefly skimmed over her forehead. "Over and out."

In a flash, it was gone, save for a slim band around her wrist. She guessed that it was better to leave some extra while the rest traveled, in case of emergency. Sakura began re-wrapping her bandages, trying to ignore the dryness in her mouth, when she heard it for the second time that day.

You should have him.

Inner Sakura's voice was insidious and smooth, almost like Orochimaru's. Sakura felt bile rising in her throat again, whether from nerves or something else she didn't know. The room was spinning, but it was intact. She breathed deeply through her nose. Have whom? she asked in as dry a tone as she could muster.

The samurai. He might tell you things. And plus…

Sakura put her head between her knees and closed her eyes, still working on her breathing. It might be better not to engage. She silently went rehearsed the ingredients for an antidote in her head. Boil for seven minutes, simmer for two. Cool and—

A throb of skull-splitting pain. A flash of blackness, and Sasuke was there, punching through her stomach as it seemed he did when he'd put her under that genjutsu.

You can't ignore me.

Okay. Sakura opened her eyes. Sasuke was gone—only the warm, flickering light of the lantern in the middle of the caravan car was with her. If she had to deal with Inner like she had when she was twelve, she could. If it meant no more hallucinations—no problem. What do you want?

I'm helping. Pay attention to the samurai.

That's all? No nightmares? No choking? No puke?

You're the one who makes that happen. Not me.

Sakura swallowed down the sour taste. "I'll pay attention," she said, only realizing secondhand that it had been out loud.

A second later, Shikamaru was opening the caravan car door. "Pardon?"

She couldn't help but giggle. "Talking to myself." Breathing was easier now. And there was no more pain.

"Crazy women," he muttered. Louder: "No more gloves. Hosh was right—none of the shops were open." He shut the door and came close, kneeling next to her. "I saw the inn he's staying at tonight, but there was no way to get in without being made. I was only given an hour to walk around. We'll have to get him out tomorrow."

"It's been an hour?" she asked. Her voice was hoarser than she'd expected.

Shikamaru blinked at her. "Yeah. What have you been doing?"

"Oh, you know." Sakura pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until grainy dots of white and black and purple appeared under her lids. "Getting into trouble."