title Fractal
summary The jagged edges you leave in me.

The Uchiha house was unnaturally quiet that afternoon. Even the water dripping from the faucets seems more cautious than usual. The yakuza squatting in the courtyard spoke in gruff whispers. Occasionally, their conversations paused as they glared at the cars that drove past.

"She drank a little water. I think all that's left is to let her rest," Mikoto informed her son. And although he was looking at her, he wasn't really seeing her. Mikoto put her hand on his cheek. Waiting. Until his gaze truly focused.

"Itachi."

"What did she mean when she said she was used to it?" he asked. Knowing, that she couldn't possibly know the answer. Mikoto could only offer him a rueful smile. She opened the door to his room.

"Thank you, Okaa-san," Itachi sighed. He slipped into the room and Mikoto slid the door shut behind him.

The room was dark. The shades drawn. Itachi stepped across the tatami. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the lump of her under the comforter. His mother had spread the futon for her. And Sakura lay on her side with her back to the door. The only thing moving in all the stillness.

He stood over her, exhaling. Wondered, for a while, at just how small she was. It was funny. When she was awake, she always seemed like the biggest thing in any room. And here she was. She looked small enough to curl up in the palm of his hand.

Sakura shivered. Shoulders hunching up high, almost touching her ears.

He climbed into the futon, pulling the comforter over the both of them. He pulled her against his chest. Pressing her to his heart. His put his right elbow up, resting his fist under his cheek.

And of course, he couldn't sleep. Not with her trembling and sweating in his grasp. Her face pinched. He put his left hand on the back of her head. Holding her so that she couldn't possibly disappear.

The door cracked open about an hour later.

Itachi's eyes flew open. Glaring murder at whoever dared to intrude. Kisame knelt at the door, in a formal seiza. A round face popped up around his elbow.

"Nii-san is in there?" Sasuke whispered.

"Yes he is," Kisame responded.

"Is that the pretty nee-chan, Kisame?" he went on, pointing.

"Yes, Waka," Kisame answered with patience that he only seemed to have for the younger Uchiha brother.

Itachi softened his expression. He held up his hand and motioned for Sasuke to enter. The boy ran in, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders.

"Tadaima, Nii-san," Sasuke whispered loudly. Itachi couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Okaeri, Sasuke. Did Juugo pick you up from kindergarten?" queried Itachi. Sasuke nodded.

"Is Nee-chan sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Why? It's still light out."

Itachi placed his hand back on Sakura's hand.

"She's very sick right now. So now she's resting to recover her strength," explained Itachi. Sasuke looked at Sakura's shoulder rising and falling slowly. And then back into his brother's face.

"Will that help her get better faster?" asked Sasuke. His little forehead wrinkling. He pointed at Itachi's hand. How it stroked her hair. Itachi hadn't even realized that he was still doing it.

"I hope so," Itachi answered.

Sasuke reached out. Patted the top of Sakura's head two times.

"Feel better soon," Sasuke said. And then, when Kisame called for them, he left the room. Kisame dipped his head before he slid the door shut.

Itachi didn't know when he fell asleep. But suddenly his eyes opened, and he was flat on his back. Staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a yawn, he patted the futon with his right hand.

It was empty.

He sat up, eyes darting around the room. No light seeped under the door from the hallway. And then, looking down, he saw that Sakura was still sleeping, curled up on her side. Huddled into the smallest ball on the far edge of the futon. He pulled her back into the middle, adjusting the comforter around her. Touched his palm to her forehead. And then he got up to use the bathroom.

When he returned, Sakura was lying on her back. Eyes wide open as she stared up at the ceiling.

"What time is it?" she asked. Her voice was raspy. The inside of her throat was coated with what felt like sandpaper.

"Almost 2 am," answered Itachi.

"Diu," she cursed, palms pressing to her eyes.

Itachi crossed the room. He sat beside her. Felt her cheek with the back of his hand. Her gaze flickered to him.

"You were like ice before. Do you still feel cold?" he queried. Sakura lowered her hands.

"A little." She stared back up at the ceiling.

"Do you remember how you got here?" Itachi then inquired.

There were blurred moments. Glass shattering. Gold hair. Someone's hands reaching for her. A few words spoken into the fog. But nothing else. Just a gap where most of Thursday should have been. A blank.

"Sort of...in the beginning. Did I call Tommy?" she ventured.

"He's sleeping in the living room. He looks terrible," he told her. Sakura made a vague noise at that. Like she wasn't surprised.

"Poor kid. I probably scared the hell out of him," remarked Sakura.

"I was wondering that. Why did you call him and not those two?"

"He lives closer to Ginza. I figured he would get to me faster," she answered. Matter-of-fact.

Itachi paused. Considered asking more questions. But then he took in her haggard face. The dark circles like twin bruises. Each time she closed her eyes to blink, she looked so washed out. Like she might sink into the sheets and never emerge.

"What do you want right now?" Itachi asked instead.

"Water."

He slipped out of the room. Returned with a bottle. Still frosty from the fridge. Sakura was already sitting up. She took a few sips. Blew out a long breath between pursed lips. Cringing, she lay back down. No matter how she positioned her body, it ached. The pain pounding deep into her muscle and bones. It was on par with the throbbing in her head.

She hissed, rubbing her thumbs into her temple.

"Your head hurts?" Itachi observed. And then he added, "Just there?"

"It's worst there. But it all hurts," Sakura grumbled.

He pushed her hands aside. Instead, his long fingers pressed into her scalp. Rubbing in slow circles. Massaging particularly hard whenever her whole face scrunched up. Moving on to a new spot when her expression eased. As his hands moved down to massage the sides of her neck, she let out a yawn. His fingers drifted back up. And by the time he reached her temples, she was fast asleep again.

Itachi dozed too. And stirred only when he heard the water bottle crackle. He opened one eye. Sakura was sitting up, taking big gulps.

She set the bottle down. Ran one hand through her hair. Stared down at her shirt dappled with red wine. Her cuffs were stained brown by what looked like dried blood.

Sakura caught him watching her.

"A bath?" he suggested.

Itachi turned on the tap to let the hot water fill. He promised to find her some clean clothes, leaving her to wash up. There were a few bottles of shampoo available. Even one with cartoons on the bottle, which she assumed belonged to his little brother whose name she couldn't remember at the moment.

She rubbed her hair until big bubbles foamed up between her fingers. Rinsed them out. The smell of almonds clinging to her fingertips. Rubbed conditioner into the strands and rinsed again. She washed the rest of her body before she climbed into the tub. Turned off the tap with her foot before she sank deep into the steaming water. It was so hot that it almost stung her skin. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against the cool tile.

Several minutes later, the door slid open. The taps squeaked. Water sprayed across the tile from the shower head. Shampoo squirting out from the bottle.

Her eyes opened when she felt Itachi's hand on her shoulder. He climbed into the tub. She didn't bother complaining when he pulled close so that her back pressed to his chest.

They soaked in the hot water. Neither of them speaking for a while. Sakura let her head fall back, resting against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. And she felt him chuckle into her hair.

"What?"

"It feels strange. Because your hair smells like mine now," he explained.

She didn't know how to answer that.

Itachi grasped her right arm. Raising it out of the water. He massaged it. Moving his thumbs in circles over her aching muscles. Sakura's eyes drifted shut again. She sighed.

"You said something..." Itachi suddenly told her. He lowered her right arm. Moved onto the left.

"What did I say?" inquired Sakura.

"...When I wanted to take you to the hospital, you said not to. You said that you were... used to it," he recalled.

Sakura's eyes opened.

"Does that bother you?" she asked in return.

He was silent. But she felt him press a kiss to the back of her neck.

It took a long time for her to gather her thoughts. The past was sort of like an old shoebox shoved under the bed. She could open the lid and peer inside. But more often, she chose to keep those days out of sight. Though, the taste of beer still made her stomach turn.

"Before I was me... before any of this... I was some dumb girl from Yokohama. Living in Hong Kong. Trying to make it in the big city," she finally admitted.

Itachi's fingers rubbed up her forearm, kneading into her biceps. Stroking up and down the red phoenix etched into her skin.

"I worked as a hostess in a shitty karaoke bar. And no one really looks out for those girls. They're usually undocumented. No families to look for them if they go missing. Disposable, really," she recalled. And she remembered her permed hair. Highlighted with streaks of white. The smell of her drugstore perfume that clung to all her clothes.

"You just... get used to it... waking up to unfamiliar ceilings," Sakura added.

"The customers would... they were the ones?" Itachi attempted to ask. Fumbled with his words.

She hated that. How he suddenly sounded so unsure.

"Them. Sometimes the manager. I don't..." Sakura trailed off. Snickered a little.

"I don't really remember," she concluded.

His arms wrapped around her. Hands grasping her shoulders as he pulled her tightly against him.

"Do you pity me, Itachi?" Sakura questioned.

"I do," he answered. The water that dripped from his hair felt cool on her shoulder. Sakura closed her eyes.

"You want to kiss it all better? Tell me that the nightmares aren't real?" she scoffed. A bitter taste on the tip of her tongue.

"I can't be sad that you went through all that?" Itachi challenged, sounding a little insulted. Sakura cracked a smile.

"No. Because then I don't get to be," Sakura replied.

They were quiet for a long while after that. Itachi's grip eased a little. She relaxed, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand. Counting the ridges of his knuckles. Feeling the the raised scars along the sharpness of his bones.

"I'm going to kill them," he declared. Suddenly. Voice echoing off the tile.

She knew who he meant. And she shook her head. Leaning back to rest it against his shoulder again.

"Too late," she responded.

Because she had let it slip once, in passing. Sitting in the passenger seat of Tobirama's old car as he drove her home late one night. She didn't recall why. Maybe it had been after having dinner with Hashirama. And knees curled up to her chest, head against the window, she hadn't been thinking. Just blurted out the truth. How she was sick of waking up in the manager's bed with a pounding migraine. Because he was gross.

Tobirama's expression hadn't changed. Or, at least, she hadn't learned to read the minute changes yet. They weren't even that close. He only drove her home every once in awhile because his brother asked.

All he had said to her was not to forget her purse as she got out of his car.

But the next afternoon, she woke up to a story on the news about how the karaoke bar had been burned to the ground early that morning.

Tobirama never said a word about it to her. And Hashirama had hired her to work at his much nicer bar instead.

Itachi's leg shifted. He let out a sigh.

"Then I feel powerless," he declared.

She gave a wry smile.

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

He fell silent. And then his hands squeezed hers.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it that way," he murmured.

"You didn't mean it like that," Sakura assured him.

"But I'm still sorry," he insisted.

"Don't be," Sakura said. She raised his hand out of the water. Pressing his palm to her cheek.

They got out of the bath when the water began to cool. Sakura toweled her hair dry. Before she could escape, Itachi insisted on drying it fully. He used a hairdryer, tousling her hair this way and that as he swept the warm air through. And she wondered. How long had it been since anyone had done this for her?

Had anyone ever?

They went back to sleep. Itachi curled around her like a big crescent moon. She nested into him like a smaller moon. His hands slipped into the front of the button-up shirt she had borrowed from him. The crisp white cotton sleeves swallowed her hands whole. And his palms rested on her stomach. As if he were trying to hold all her organs in. Shielding them against whatever dangers lay in waiting outside.

As the sun began to rise, Sakura sank into sleep. Itachi's long, slow breaths lulling her. Until her breaths matched his. Until her eyelids drooped. And she was plunging deep into a dream. The names and the faces all blurred together. But she was not afraid.

Sakura's eyes fluttered open a few hours later. Just as the door slid open. The light from the hall spilling across the floor. The shape of a woman illuminated in the doorway.

"Oh."

"Nii-san is sleeping too."

"Come out of there, Sasuke. We should let them rest a little while longer," the woman whispered.

"Even though it's light out?"

"Yes."

The door slid shut. Darkness pooling in the room again. But Sakura could still hear their voices out in the hall.

"Do you think Nee-chan is still sick?" the boy asked. And Sakura wished she could remember his name. That tiny thing with round, black eyes.

And she didn't get to hear the woman's answer as they walked down the hall.

Sakura felt Itachi's hand stroke over her stomach. Realized that he was awake too.

"I came here because I was scared," she confessed. Voice barely escaping her lips. Half-hoping that he wouldn't hear her.

"Even you get scared, Jing-Mei?" he asked. There was no mockery there. And for once, she didn't hate the way that name sounded coming from his lips.

"I do. And I wanted to come here. Because I thought I would be less scared here," she went on. She could hear him measuring his next words carefully. His hesitation like a taste on the back of her tongue.

"Are you?"

She smiled into the darkness.

"No. But it's not worse either," she answered.