Eight: Reevaluation

Author's Note: Oh, dear god. I've been gone a long time. I'm almost done school, though – only about a month to go, and only three exams, and then I'm done for another four months – so I'll probably be finishing this story sometime soon. Possibly. But until then, I'm still drowning in indigenous autonomy in northern Mexico, pre-WWII Japan, the Nazi blitz of London and Coventry, and post-apocalyptic fiction, so we'll see what I can get written and posted. I was also kind of stuck on the story, but now I've figured out what I'm doing. I think? I don't know, I guess I'll have to wait for the reviews to come in to see if I'm actually on to something here.

Thanks again for reading!

Sakura had started seriously contemplating escaping from the hospital two days after she arrived. She had slept through most of the first day, awaking to find that someone had healed her throat while she slept and that she could finally breathe easily again. A nurse came in every once in a while to talk to her and to try and force her to eat. Sakura was seriously underweight, the nurse told her, and so she sat there and waited while Sakura tentatively choked down a meal, nauseated but finally able to eat something without throwing it back up.

No one else came to see her.

Sakura didn't mind so much. She didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone. She wasn't in the mood to catch up with old friends, to try to explain to her mother why she was gaunt and bruised and depressed and seriously ill. Sakura spent most of the day still and silent, as if simply waiting to fall asleep again. She wondered once if Ino would come, but immediately dismissed that notion as hopelessly idiotic. It was probably better if she stayed away.

On the third day, the door to her room opened and Shizune stepped through. Sakura glanced at her once, then quickly turned away. The Hokage's attendant set down the meal she had brought in and stood at the closed door, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in that familiar expression of perpetual concern. "Eat this," Shizune told her, gesturing at the meal. "Then we have business to take care of."

Sakura looked at Shizune as if she had never seen her before. Shizune had always been so friendly to Sakura, so supportive as she studied under Tsunade's tutelage. Now, looking tired and stressed, she couldn't even offer Sakura a 'hello' or a 'how are you.' Perhaps she just knew that she wouldn't have gotten an answer if she asked the latter. Sakura did as she was told, changed out of her hospital garb and into her borrowed clothes (which she thought she'd never get a chance to return to their owner) while Shizune waited outside her room, and then followed her out.

Sakura kept her head down when they got out onto the street, but thankfully no one called out or waved to her. Perhaps she had really been gone so long that no one recognized her anymore; perhaps anyone who had known her expected her to have been killed in the war, like so many before her; perhaps her shrivelled and defeated demeanour and ill-health really made that much of a difference. By the time they reached the Hokage's mansion she was exhausted; by the time they reached the top of the stairs and stood outside the Hokage's office, her breathing was laboured. She suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable. She didn't want to talk to Tsunade at all.

This wasn't going to go well.

Tsunade had been barely awake, resting her head on arms folded across the desk, but when she saw Sakura stumble in she was on her feet in an instant, settling back into her seat only once Shizune began to explain where she had found her. Sakura was surprised that the Hokage hadn't already known that she was back in Konoha, and the look that darkened Tsunade's face while she listened to Shizune seemed a pretty good indication that she was surprised herself, and none too pleased about it.

Tsunade was staring hard at Sakura, her fingers steepled together, elbows resting on the edge of her desk. She hadn't said anything since Shizune began speaking. She looked disappointed. Sakura kept her eyes on the floor. Shizune finally finished her explanation and the silence blanketed the office for a long, uncomfortable moment. Sakura was content to wait until she was spoken to, out of deference, out of denial, out of a childish urge to hide from her responsibilities as a kunoichi and a medic-nin. The silence hummed in her ears. Suddenly, there was motion in the corner of her eye and she glanced over distractedly; Shizune had bent low to collect Tonton, cradling the pig in her arms, the attendant's eyes on Tsunade.

"Sakura," Godaime Hokage spoke, and her voice snapped so fiercely that Sakura was startled. "I expected better from you."

Sakura was too ashamed to say anything to her.

"You were the last person I'd expect to turn her back on her duties." She pushed herself back away from the desk, stood again and walked to the window. "You realize that this can be construed as treason." After a long moment Tsunade tore her gaze from the sun-blanketed village below and gave Sakura a look so severe that she felt it almost as much as she saw it. "You were given direct orders to stay in Sunagakure as the leader of a team and you have abandoned that team to return here." Tsunade's voice was cold, severe. "Care to explain yourself?"

"I couldn't do it anymore," Sakura said quietly.

"Hmph," Tsunade snorted.

"Tsunade-sama, she isn't well—" Shizune broke in quickly.

"I can see that," the Hokage snapped, cutting her off. Sakura flinched, keeping her eyes on the floor. Tsunade planted both palms on her desk and leaned on it heavily. "Fixing this isn't going to be simple," she said, her voice unforgiving.

"I'm sorry," Sakura mumbled, pitiful. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I don't want that blood on my hands."

Tsunade suddenly stopped herself from replying, her expression becoming less severe, almost forlorn. She, too, knew what it was like to run from this pain. She knew what it was like when people died no matter what you did to save them. She remembered well those years of desperate hemophobia. She sighed again.

"I'm sorry," Sakura repeated.

Tsunade fell back into her seat and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Where are you staying?" She asked. A moment later she added, "I'm assuming you are staying."

Sakura shrugged.

"Go home," Tsunade told her dismissively. "And stay there in case I need to find you."

Sakura nodded, turned and walked out.

She was halfway down the stairs when sudden footsteps behind her caught her attention. She turned; Shizune was bounding down the steps after her. "Sakura," she called. "Wait."

The pink-haired kunoichi did as she was instructed. She was exhausted, wanted to cry but refused to do so in front of Shizune, or anyone else she may see in the street while she trekked to her family's home as she had been instructed to.

"Sakura, you're not well," Shizune murmured. "Let me take a look at you."

"I can deal with it myself," Sakura told her.

"Then why haven't you already?" Shizune's voice was accusing, her eye critical.

Sakura shrugged. She didn't want to get into this conversation with Shizune, didn't want to have to try and explain that she could barely concentrate anymore, that she felt like she had lost the ability to control her chakra, to mould it into any usable forms. Sakura's mind and will were in tatters, and she didn't want to talk to anybody about it. She didn't want to talk to anybody about anything.

"Let me help you," Shizune begged.

Sakura turned to leave but the brunette tried stopped her with one hand. Sakura yanked her arm free savagely and thumped down the rest of the stairs, her steps heavy and graceless. Shizune didn't follow.