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chapter six: in health


"Good morning!" I crowed, arms above my head and belly thrown out. Itachi looked up from nowhere, as he was wont to do, and his left cheek deepened in a small smile that didn't actually exist, but counted because it was him. I smiled wider, twirled once, and sang, "Guess what I can doooooooo?"

I hooked one finger under the edge of the table that took up most of the room. It was a heavy thing, old and solid. Without so much as a grimace, I lifted the entire right side. Itachi slid over and caught a cup that had been clattering towards the floor, and the right corner of his mouth had risen. With a bang, the table was back on the ground and I was smiling for all I was worth.

"How do you feel?" He asked, going back to our tiny stove and starting to make me a bowl of miso soup, but I shushed him away and got it myself.

"Fabulous," I replied. Which was true enough, because my excitement and pride were bubbling warm in my tummy, and Itachi was still sort of smiling, and the world was a beautiful place this bright winter morning. The heaviness of my arms and the pain lurking behind my eyes were immaterial, inconsequential, because I could pick up tables again. Take that, world. "So fabulous," I continued, now dancing to kneel on the tatami mats, soup warm between my hands, "that I think I am going to go practice punching trees after breakfast."

I caught the pause in his step, and ignored it. Just like I ignored the stiff way he moved for the next hour, the way he hovered around my peripheral vision in a way that would have been awkward and shuffling if he wasn't so damn aristocratic. I could hear the words he was trying to say but wouldn't: Are you sure you should?

But as long as he didn't ask, I wasn't going to answer. I was going to enjoy this new rush of power I could feel tingling through me, as familiar as the sky and as missed as summer.

I went to get my knives, all polished perfect by hands not my own, and when I came back he was standing by the door, tall and towering and averting his eyes. Dear God. It was there, even then; a tightness in my chest, as if something beneath my skin and muscle were straining full for the sight of long black hair and careful red eyes. "Hey," I said, sliding around him, my hand on the door handle, "want to come with me?"

The look he gave me burned like sun-warmed bricks in winter and we walked out of our little hovel side by side.


"Attack me," he said, fifteen minutes later. We were in a clearing, sunshine dappling the ground all around. It had taken me the last five minutes to get over the sheer awesome that was being outside, where I could turn cartwheels and twist a flip and leap in the air just because it felt good. The fatigue from earlier had faded, and I felt full, fresh, exuberantly healthy.

"No," I said immediately. "Not a chance."

I closed my eyes and inhaled until my chest hurt. I exhaled on a giggle. When I opened my eyes, Itachi was glaring. Actually glaring. He rarely did that. It was for those moments when I wouldn't get out of bed even though it had been twenty-fours hours and Sakura, you need to help your body recover; it was for the times when I wouldn't eat anything because my stomach sometimes felt like a shriveled little fist protesting nourishment of any kind but Sakura, you need to eat now; it was for the days he caught me trying to make chakra scalpels even though Sakura, you do not have the reserves to be doing that. Basically, it was the glare of a domineering mother – a role Itachi slipped into more often than was at all reasonable.

"It would be pointless. It would be stupid. And, believe it or not, I do not relish the idea of ruining a perfectly nice day with damage to both my body and pride."

"I am not going to hurt you. You are going to try to hurt me."

I flashed to a knife behind my back and the way his hands stopped my swings as if they were child's play. I grimaced. Then, all defiance and still-burning happiness turned good-natured defiance, "And what if I were to hurt you?"

A split second of a splintering half-smile. "I hope you can."


I, of course, did not.

But I skipped back to the house backwards, so as to better examine Itachi and continuously double-check that he eye, was not, in fact, turning purple.

"You didn't even hit me," he said.

I rammed a shoulder against his side. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."

He shoved me away with his hip and ruffled a hand through my hair.


Before the week was up, I was back to shattering trees. It was marvelous. Having my chakra back, even in some small portion, was like – well, it was like having my chakra back. Imagine having both your arms hacked off. Now imagine someone gave you back everything above your elbows. No imagine that everyday, the stumps grew just a little bit more. It was like that. And like I said – it was beautiful.

I went out to practice every day. Itachi followed me everyday. We sparred at least once each time, and even though I still lost every time, I could tell I was getting closer to victory. I was learning him, learning his moves, his style, his strengths and his miniscule weaknesses. Of course, much of that was because he wasn't fighting me like an enemy, and he was only using his physical strength, no chakra whatsoever – but, still. In another week, I bet I could have landed a blow. Damn impressive if I do say so myself.


"Your favorite color?" I lay flat on my back, flipping kunai up to the ceiling and catching them at the last possible moment. Itachi sat cross-legged in a corner.

"Blue," he said without a pause. I almost missed the knife. Then I smiled. I liked surprises.

In addition to being able to punch trees into a million pieces, I was also recently capable of being awake more than six hours of the day without becoming zombie-like. Combine that with the fact I had already told me pretty much everything about me, and all I could do was begin my incessant torturing of Itachi with every question I could imagine. (At least, every question I could imagine that studiously avoided blood, family, and a boy we both had lost.) He was, as with most things, a good sport. Occasionally, he asked a question of his own and proved that I hadn't actually told him everything.

"Season?"

"Fall."

"Food?"

"Ramen."

I laughed, picturing Naruto and Itachi slurping noodles side by side. Then my chest hurt because I realized how much such a sight would mean to me.

"Weapon?"

"Myself."

A quick glance to his corner and the unequal line of his mouth confirmed my suspicions. Did you know that Uchiha Itachi is capable of humor? I snorted. "Cocky bastard. I can smell the testosterone from here."

"I would not lie to you, Sakura."

I snorted again, but then smiled at him like he made my world a better place to be. Because he did.

"Well then… You a virgin?"

Did you know Uchiha Itachi can blush and fidget and look for all the world like a scared ten year-old boy? His mouth opened but no sound came out.

Meanwhile, I clutched my belly and rolled around on the floor, trying to catch a breath even as I laughed harder than I had in ages.


The next morning, while I was eating, he stood behind me and towered like a nightmare until I turned around, because he is a freak like that, and we had yet to completely breach the years of practiced silence he kept all around himself.

"Yes?" I smiled, as bright as I could, wide and corny. Lately, such smiles had been returned with his equivalent of a grin, that left-cheek twitch I was coming to treasure far more than was reasonable. But that morning, he remained impassive. Gloomy. My own smile faded. "What?"

"You are feeling better."

I wrinkled my eyebrows. "Yes."

His mouth, already a tight line, straightened further. He nodded. "I will return shortly"

Then he left. I herd the front door open and close a few seconds later.

"He is such a weirdo," I told the empty room.


Shortly, he returned. He had supplies with him.

I sidled up and poked at the packages of food. I fixed him with a questioning stare. He made eye contact, and there was nervousness in him I couldn't explain.

With a small gesture towards the food, he said, "There is somewhere else I must be."

I remember that it felt like ice had been dumped over me. My pulse quickened and I felt my breath freeze in my chest. Somehow, I kept my voice steady. "When do you leave?"

He frowned. "Tomorrow morning."

I nodded, head bobbing up-down-up-down. Behind my back, I clenched and unclenched my fists. This was ok. This was good. I was feeling better, after all. I could – I could make it home. I would be fine. I would be fine. Itachi wasn't leaving me – I was leaving him, just as I had always planned, just as I should. Just as anyone with two brain cells to rub together would. Besides, who wanted to follow a missing nin around anyway, when he was surely just off to terrorize and murder and scowl and it wasn't like he was good for conversation anyway.

"I am heading South." Itachi cleared his throat, and I had to blink him in to focus. "If… If you wish, you may accompany me." He looked away. "After I take care of my business, we can continue on towards Kohona. I will get you as close as I can."

Relief hit me like a tidal wave. Later that night, tossing against the rough sheets, I would wonder if I were perhaps a bit too happy. At that moment, though, I just felt an upwellng of thankfulness. Who wouldn't want to be personally escorted (almost) home by a man who did your laundry and made you food and smiled like the sun between clouds? "I can come with you? I'll be safe?"

He frowned again, almost agitated. "Of course. I promise."

Of course. Of course. Do you understand? Do you see? Can you understand now why I fell? Of course, he said, and it wasn't an arrogant thing, not a boast. No pride, no distain, no smug undertone. I am a monster and I hate myself more than you could ever believe, and I am stained red on the outside to match my rotting insides, and every breath I take stings through years of wanting to die, but will I take care of you for as long as I am able? Of course.

I smiled, hard and bright. "Great."

He smiled back. I swear to God. No left-cheek twitch or half-hearted grimace – a real smile, full and fierce and I will remember it for the rest of my life, because it mattered so damn much that I cannot even begin to describe it to you.


Listen.

I didn't know it yet and maybe he didn't either, but –

He loved me.

That matters.