In cruise control I head back to campus without much of a convincing explanation for Tsunade, as to why I'm cutting practice short. Fortunately she doesn't question it. You know. Why she's wasting her time on a head case who just can't get her shit together. Instead she just smiles like she knows the punchline to a secret joke and waves me off, tells me to meet her at the end of the week for another private.

The bus is quiet, for once. It's not snowing much anymore but it's still chillier than I'd prefer it to be when the sun goes down. After Christmas there's sort of this subdued, muted kind of blah that gets people down. No one's really in a mood to make small talk on the 8:00, and I'm fine with that. My ear buds are in my ears but the music's on pause.

Itachi left half his fortune to Hana Inuzuka.

Sasuke had mentioned they'd had a thing back in the day, but as far as anyone knew, it was over. Itachi broke it off before he went touring with Akatsuki and she showed up at the Christmas showcase with another man, a guy with kind eyes and a scar across his nose who'd held her hand the whole time.

But to have taken a fortune the size of Itachi's – an international rock superstar who'd had to have amassed millions before he died – and bequeathed it to an ex-girlfriend?

Something's not right about that, I think as I watch the city go by in flashing lights and thick, empty gray.

Then I remember things I've been trying to forget. Christmas Eve, when Sasuke left abruptly, having to sort out some drama with Itachi and Hana. It's been to painful to think back on the things that made me happy once upon a time, things like Sasuke's slow easy smile and the smooth slide of his knuckles against my cheek. So I've put them out of my head, but now here's Kiba and Hana and Sasuke and a lawyer and life to drag me kicking and screaming back into this fucking fray.

Why is it that when you want to move on, when you finally have the guts to realize when a situation is toxic and that you need to extract yourself from it before it gets any worse, why is it that the world sees fit to pull you back?

See for as much as it intrigues me, the mystery of Itachi's will and Hana's significance and Kiba's curiosity, I also want no fucking part of it. Because following this trail and solving this mystery and unlocking Itachi's secrets is going to lead me, inexorably, back to Sasuke. And maybe not in a physical way. Maybe I'll never see his dark eyes watch me anywhere but on a billboard, empty and dead and too hollow to be sad the way I know he is. Maybe I'll never have to look at his face in person.

But the attachment is still there. It's suffering, greatly, between the way he fucked me out of my happiness and how I'm working on finding it for myself, alone. That tenuous bond between us, built on grief sex and false pretenses, it survives even though Sasuke turned his back on it. Even though I've been trying to kill it. It's not all the way gone yet.

There's still a part of me, shameful and fucking alive, that's holding onto him.

And I don't want to feed that addiction. I don't want to give that bond anymore strength than I already have. I want to keep chipping away at it until I can't feel it anymore, until it's gone the way it needs to be for me to truly move on. I want to work for myself and take my lessons with Tsunade and hang out with my friends and heal what Sasuke and I broke together. I want time and effort to take that fucking connection between us and set it on fire and let it die.

And if I do this…if I invest any time whatsoever into his brother…

I'm keeping that connection alive. It's a bridge I haven't burned yet.

And fuck that, I tell myself, getting angry again. Anger's been an excellent deflection for me. My coping mechanism, so to speak. I get angry and then I get better.

Fuck it, seriously. Because intriguing as it is, it's got nothing to do with me. Itachi's will, Hana's role, Kiba's need-to-know and how Sasuke figures into all of this, they can figure it out themselves.

Despite my earlier curiosity in the practice room at Tsunade's, I shut it the fuck down.

…

Kiba's predictably upset with me.

So's Naruto.

And Ino.

All three of them are waiting for me in the common room when I make it back from KCA. I open the door and let in the wind and there they are, huddled around the coffee table, and I say the words that ignite their righteous rage.

"I'm going to bed."

Naruto jumps up and his hand closes around my wrist, stopping me before I can head up the stairs to my dorm. I sigh but I stay, because that's what you're supposed to do when someone's got to bare their soul to you. Listen to it. Never turn your back on it. I know what it feels like, to have someone walk away.

"What do you mean you're goin' to bed?!" Naruto snaps. "We gotta talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about," I say stiffly, and the lie in my voice is covered up under iciness. "Itachi's will has nothing to do with any of us, so let's just let it alone."

"You said you'd help!" Kiba argues. "You're the only one who can get ahold of Sasuke!"

"And how do you propose I do that?" I demand, giving in to my anger, because here they go again. Acting, pretending, deluding themselves into thinking that I have anymore influence over Sasuke Uchiha than a single gust of wind on the ocean. "What, do you want me to show up like some groupie to his tour bus, the way you guys did? I'd have about as much success getting through to him as you did, remember?"

The boys are stung by my reminder of their failure to talk to Sasuke in Ame. But Ino isn't. Her eyes are full of rage incandescent enough to match mine as she stands up, too, clenching her fists.

"The will does have to do with you!" she snaps. "You're one of the fucking benefactors!"

I freeze. The boys don't look surprised, so clearly this is information they've already heard. And then my eyes narrow and I hiss, "Don't you dare fucking joke about something like that! This has gone too far! You're all fucking crazy. If you want to track down Sasuke and figure out what the hell he's doing and how the hell Hana's involved, do it. I don't fucking care. But I'm done with this."

I move to shake off Naruto's grip but he's too strong.

"It's not a joke, Sakura!" he says earnestly, now that he's got my attention. "It's real! Itachi left you something in his will! That's why we need you to meet with the lawyer!"

"Why the hell would Itachi leave me something in his fucking will?" I demand, furious that they're attempting to use a dead man to drag me back into this mess. "I met him days before he died!"

"We don't know what it is he left you," Ino tells me flatly. "Kiba called the lawyer to ask but since none of us are benefactors, we're not allowed to read the will. But what he did say is that one fo us needs to get ahold of Sasuke, since they can't; he never got his share of the inheritance."

This is a surprise to me. As Itachi's only living family, Sasuke is an obvious benefactor. Had he really gone on the road without even looking at what his brother had left him?

Remembering the grief that he'd attempted to bury with sex and a passionless dream, it doesn't seem too far-fetched, that he'd want to start over without the constant reminder of his dead brother haunting his wallet.

"He probably isn't interested in the money, why would he want to be constantly reminded of Itachi's death?" I counter, but I see a fundamental flaw in my argument, and so, apparently, does Ino.

"If that's how Sasuke operated, then why the hell would he join up with Akatsuki in the first place?" she demands, almost triumphantly. "That was Itachi's dream, not Sasuke's. Come on, Sakura, don't kid yourself. You know him better than that."

"He's got to see the will," Naruto says firmly. "And since you're getting something, you can figure out what he's getting from Itachi and then we can tell him together."

"Don't pretend like you care whether Sasuke gets his share of the fortune or not," I snap, sickened that they're so desperate to see Sasuke again that they'd resort to something like this. "This is all just a ploy. A fucking scheme to get ahold of him again and you want me to risk my goddamn dignity that I've just started earning back to do it! Well fuck it! Find him yourself! Whatever Itachi fucking left me, I don't fucking want it!"

With that, I shove Naruto away from me as hard as I possibly can. He flies backwards, startled and hurt by my reaction but I don't care. I can't care. I can't do this anymore, I can't be a part of this anymore.

I'm not Sasuke. I can't do what he did. Let someone who's not even around anymore pull my strings and control my actions. I'm not anybody's puppet.

…

In my room that night, away from all the drama and all the mess, I can't sleep.

It's what I wanted, right? To be alone? Away from Sasuke's influence and my friends' deluded perception of the way he is?

I'm on track, I tell myself harshly, as my thoughts wonder inevitably back to the will, and what Itachi could have possibly left me. I'm on track now. I'm doing it. I'm taking charge of my life. I gave up ballet because it was toxic for me. I reshuffled my priorities. I'm doing better. I'm better now. I have a future. I can't do this anymore, I can't risk everything I built just to play detective!

Because that's exactly what this would be. Contacting Itachi's lawyer, an old man named Sarutobi with a simple practice downtown, that's perpetuating the myth of Sasuke-and-Sakura. It's propagating a false rumor, it's like spreading idle gossip. It's giving credence to something that's been weighed and found wanting.

I don't exist to Sasuke. He's made that abundantly clear. Me and him, together, us, we, whatever you can call it, we were mythology. We were a stupid girl and a stupid boy who tried to heal ourselves by fucking each other. That's all there was to it.

And yes I loved him. But that's all part of the myth, you know? It's not real. It didn't matter. Love didn't matter because he didn't want me. In the end he picked everything but me.

Those are facts.

I don't have much experience with men but I know they're all the same. All surface. Wishing and hoping and trusting in some deep hidden ulterior motive is a fool's game, and say what you will about me but I'm not a fool anymore. I can't delude myself into thinking there was anymore to us than sex and convenience, as much as I might want to.

As much as I wish I could.

Because maybe it wasn't mythology. Maybe it was real on his end, too. Maybe his grief at the loss of his brother, and his determination to honor his brother, and his refusal to forget his brother, maybe all of that twisted Sasuke's perception of the world. Maybe I did make him happy.

Maybe happiness isn't what he was looking for.

See, I could look at it that way. I could.

But if I do…

If I choose to see Sasuke as fundamentally flawed, but ultimately real…

Then I'm fucked. I'm still fucked. I'm fucked even harder because if I believe that Sasuke loved me, then I can't let go of him.

Still, though. I'm curious as to what Itachi left me. If that's real or not, or just an excuse for my friends to get me in touch with him again.

And how would that even work, exactly? What makes them think I'd be able to succeed where they failed? Sasuke doesn't answer his phone no matter how many times they've called. When they tried to see him in person, security kept them away. He's got no address to send letters to and he doesn't want to fucking hear from us. Why do they think I'd be any different?

I know why. Frustrated, I roll over on my bed and I know why.

Because they believe in the mythology. And that's easy for them, to look at Sasuke-and-Sakura and the tattoo on my chest that tips my hand and the desirability of a difficult romance, and to see it and say, That's true love. It's easy for them because they're not living it.

I'm living it. I'm in here. I'm watching all this unfold firsthand and I fucking hate it.

…

In the end, I cave.

Curiosity, or whatever. Maybe inevitability.

But the next day alone and in secret, I skip class at KPAA and take a bus downtown to Sarutobi and Son, LLP. It's one of those converted buildings, the kind that used to be a very nice townhome back a hundred years ago and is now a family-owned law firm. There's a chandelier hanging in the foyer and maybe it's the gutterbutt little girl in me, but I always think highly of places that have chandeliers.

The receptionist smiles at me and asks my name and if I have an appointment.

"Not…not exactly," I say, cursing myself for sounding so unsure. It's improper etiquette to stammer and slur, and unfortunately, Miss Suzume's still got some power over me in little ways. Clearing my throat, I say, "My name's Sakura Haruno. I was told to ask Mr. Sarutobi about the contents of Itachi Uchiha's will? I believe I am a benefactor."

The receptionist looks relieved.

"Oh thank goodness," she says. "We've been searching for you for weeks, but unfortunately your school locks students' records and we had no way of reaching you. Yes, I'll tell him you're here and he'll discuss it with you."

So I'm expected. It wasn't just an elaborate prank set by Naruto and the others.

I really am a benefactor in Itachi Uchiha's will.

It's shocking to me, how he could have deemed me important enough to have left me anything after his death. He died just days after meeting me. How could I have made it into his will that quickly?

"Miss Haruno?" an older man, wrinkled but with very kind eyes, addresses me, emerging from an office with a cedar door. He moves towards me and smiles, hand outstretched; I shake it in greeting.

"Yes, I'm Sakura Haruno."

"Lovely to meet you, dear. I am Hiruzen Sarutobi. I was Itachi Uchiha's lawyer prior to his untimely demise. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Er…thank you, but Itachi and I didn't know each other very well."

He frowns, looking confused. "Well, he always was a mysterious young man. Now in regards to your share of his inheritance…"

"Let me stop you right there," I say, not wanting to hear the amount. "I er…don't want any of the money. Keep it. Give it to, to charity or whatever. It wouldn't feel right, taking it."

Mr. Sarutobi smiles and shakes his head.

"It wasn't money he left you, Miss Haruno," he tells me. "As I said, Itachi was a very mysterious man. He left you…a message, of sorts. An addendum to his will, added only weeks before his death."

"A message?"

Weeks before his death? He didn't even KNOW me weeks before his death!

Is that customary last-will-and-testament etiquette? I've heard of leaving people money, and property, and heirlooms…but a message?

"It's nice to meet a young woman who isn't concerned with financial gain. And while you say you and Itachi did not know each other very well, I feel I should inform you that of Itachi's vast fortune, there were only three benefactors, including yourself."

Me, Sasuke, and Hana.

How? How do I figure into that group of people?!

It doesn't make sense to me.

"Doesn't make sense to you, does it, dear?" Mr. Sarutobi asks with a smile. "Shall I give you the message then? Perhaps that will shed some light on your situation."

I nod dumbly, still taken aback at my involvement in this fuckery, when Mr. Sarutobi reaches into his large orange envelope. He takes out – of all things – a napkin. It's got words on it, scribbled on with an unsteady hand. The writing is unfamiliar.

"This was left to you," he tells me. "And since you are the same age as Sasuke and would no doubt have gone to school with him, I wonder if you might be able to get in contact with him? He's been left a rather large and rather specific array of assets but we haven't been able to reach him…"

Mr. Sarutobi's words fade in and out. I'm not really listening.

I take the napkin with shaking hands and I read the words and instantly, immediately, there are tears in my eyes. Tears that blur the shaky penmanship, but it's practically a fucking fanfare in my ears. More permanent than the name scrawled over my heart like a dirty swear.

Sakura,

Don't give up on him.

Itachi.

...

When I get back to campus from the lawyer's office, I don't go up to my dorm.

I go to Sasuke's.

It's reckless. Odds are he locked it before he left, and…

Nope, never mind. When I turn the knob, the door opens to admit me, and there I am with his scent all around me and his sketches strewn about like forgotten flower petals, beautiful and trodden on.

And the tears come back. The ones I haven't allowed myself since he left, the ones that I choked back and buried under renewed ambition and a fresh start. Being here, in this room, where Sasuke lived for years, it's too much. Knowing what Itachi wanted, it's too much.

In a trance, I turn on his radio. One of those ancient things with the dial instead of the programmable ones the school gives to every room. He must have brought this from home. I never asked about it. So many things I never asked him about, and now I can't.

It's tuned already to some alt-rock station, the kind he would have listened to while writing his music for class. Never his passion, I remind myself. But because this is what he listened to, that's what I leave on. It's time I did some grieving of my own, for things I've lost and can't get back.

I sit down on the bed cautiously, like I'm expecting it to give way under my weight. I run my hand along the simple black sheets as if they'd still be warm from his body heat, but it's been weeks and they're cool to the touch.

Without taking off my boots or my coat and still crying, I curl up on his bed, my hand tightening around his pillow. The fabric's soaked instantly with my tears and there's music playing tunelessly in the background and it's almost like he's here, but it's the worst way to miss him. When there's nothing I can do to get him back.

The song ends and a new one begins and I don't listen to that either. Instead I lay there on my side, leaving enough space for Sasuke, or his shadow, or whatever, and I think about him. Really think about him. And all the million ways I loved him.

I think of how his intensity, how it shined in everything he did, except music. I think of the way the charcoal would stain his fingers when he drew, and the crinkle of paper when he tore up something he wasn't happy with. I think of the way he filled his inks carefully with a practiced hand, and how his steady control over his tools contrasted so sharply with Itachi's untidy scrawl on a napkin. Instructions to me, the same as what everyone else was saying.

Sasuke must have told Itachi about me long before I actually met him myself. That's the only way he could have known about me. My name. My involvement in Sasuke's life.

And just from that…

Just from those discussions over the phone I knew nothing about…

Itachi knew that I was someone who had to hold on to Sasuke.

Just from that.

And I realize, through all the grief and the mourning and the sadness and the frustration and the anger, I realize then that this – he and I – it was never mythology at all. It couldn't have been.

Just from that.

Just from a napkin that's all the evidence in the fucking world that I didn't build it up in my head. It was real, it existed. He and I. Him and me. Sasuke must have told Itachi something that made Itachi realize that this was real.

Maybe.

Maybe he did love me…

"…and next we have the latest from Akatsuki, ladies and gentlemen. First single released since the tragic death of lead guitarist Itachi Uchiha, featuring his brother Sasuke.."

Vaguely, the radio starts to make noise again, discernible noise. I stiffen like stone.

"This one's called, Ballerina, take a listen, let us know what you think."

…and maybe he still does.

note.. thanks everybody for your support. i love writing this story. i appreciate you being patient with me and letting me tell it the way i want to, even if it takes longer than you might like. let me know if you enjoyed it, y'all. :)

xoxo daisy :)