I leave the room and I leave her life, but I don't leave her alone. Not right away, anyways. In some backwards part of my head, I take a way-too-late stab at gallant, and once I close the door behind me, I post up against it like some fucking deranged Pinkerton guard. As if I'm anything more than exactly what she needs guarding from.

She's crying, I hear it quiet and stifled but it sinks into my skin deeper than the ink on my arms. It's the answer I was expecting, right? The one where I show up again all artless and demanding, clumsy in my stupidity and so, so desperate, spitting out curt and worthless excuses and expecting her to read between the lines? The one where she has enough and has the sense to kick me out of her universe the way she should've done from the start?

But just because I knew it was coming doesn't make this any easier to deal with. It's like lead in my stomach and now in my limbs, like I'm turning into something non-human. And that's what she makes me feel even when she smiles, like bit by bit she's claiming parts of me and turning them into something else. An entity. Something different, foreign, hard to understand and frightening in its newness.

That's what she does. That's why she's dangerous.

She's smart, though. Smart to kick me out. My jaw twinges, and it's painful, really painful, not the kind of movie star slap where it stings but fades in feminine weakness. Sakura hit me like she meant it. There was anger in that, anger and vengeance; she needed closure with me, and she got it. At least I'm good for that much.

"She'll come around, man," says Naruto, appearing in front of me and I wonder how long he's been there, an observer to this holocaust of a breakup, or whatever the fuck it is.

"I don't deserve that," I reply, and my voice is smooth and flat, like a canvas. Empty. Drained. She took everything with teary green eyes and a fist that nearly broke my jaw.

"She'll come around," he repeats. He's a good friend, Naruto. He's got faith in people when they've got none in themselves, but this time is different. This time it's final. This time I'm really getting what I deserve.

There were consequences. There were always gonna be consequences.

"C'mon, it's late," he urges. "Let's head back to my dorm, you can stay there in the meantime."

'In the meantime.' It's a nice way of acknowledging the fact that for all points and purposes, I'm homeless. I'm a high school dropout of sorts, and now that the euphoria of quitting Akatsuki has faded, I'm probably about to be dragged through the high courts of the country for breach of contract. Most likely carted off to prison. I'm pretty sure Orochimaru isn't going to take my...resignation letter lying down.

I've got enough money from Akatsuki (till they take it, of course) and whatever ridiculous sum Itachi left to me to get by for awhile, but right now, I'm seventeen, I'm not even old enough to drink or smoke a cigarette, just barely old enough to get into a rated-R movie, and homeless.

Tch. Maybe Naruto should make a clean break of me, too.

After a sleepless night of being fucking pathetic and pining over shit I should have handled better, it's morning and it's raining but at least there's some point to getting out of bed. Now I can see the lawyer, the official reason for coming back to Konoha in the first place. Something that nobody could tell me over the phone, something that Sakura didn't bother telling me last night.

I'm nothing if not persistent.

Naruto comes with me. It's not like I can easily shake him now that I'm back on his stomping grounds. I guess he's earned that, tailing me as long as he did, dragging me back, keeping me grounded. I kind of accept his presence in a weary kind of way, more grateful than I will ever let him know, but he's not the type to expect the grandiose gestures of friendship in return that he doles out automatically.

There's a receptionist at Sarutobi and Son who takes my name down and puts a phone call in to the attorney who's handling Itachi's will. I feel entirely out of place, this red-alert kid with a lot of tattoos and a bruise on his jaw and a horrible attitude, standing in the foyer of this small but elegant office with leather couches and mahogany tables and a grandfather clock in the corner. Naruto takes a seat without further ado, looking even more ridiculous than I do, and it's about two minutes before the door opens and an old man comes hurrying out to greet me.

"Well you must be Sasuke Uchiha," he says, extending a withered hand to me, and I shake it reflexively. "I'm Hiruzen Sarutobi, I'm the attorney handling your brother's estate. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. You're a difficult young man to reach!"

Probably he senses that I'm not in the mood to exchange menial pleasantries. I'm here for one reason, and that's to find out what the fuck Itachi wanted me to have. What was so important that all my friends traveled the world to find me. What was so important that Orochimaru felt the need to lie about it so I wouldn't find out.

The old man reads me pretty well because he ushers me inside his office. It's too warm, the heat's up too high and I shift uncomfortably in my jacket. Something about old people and the heat. He rifles through a massive shelf full of case files just like mine, and pulls it out. Sets it on the desk between us.

"Your brother left you a considerable sum of money," he tells me as I take the file, open it, read it over. A lot of it is legal jargon that I can't understand, but I get the gist of it: holy shit, Itachi left me a fortune. "Half of his estate, actually. The other half, as I understand it, was bequeathed to an ex-girlfriend."

Hana, I think uncomfortably. Another loose end.

"In addition to that," Hiruzen continues, "you will also find the deed to a property in West Konoha. The address is 8338 Providence Street."

I frown in confusion. Property? I thumb through the papers and find an off-white sheet in the bottom of the file, with my name scrawled into the ownership line in Itachi's handwriting.

"He bought me a house?" I ask nobody.

Is that his angle? Making sure I stay focused on school or some shit? Grounding me in Konoha so I can't run off and make his mistakes? The ones I started to make over the last two months?

It would at least solve the problem of my being homeless…

"I don't believe that this property is in a residential area of the city," Hiruzen replies with a shake of his head. "I have not visited it myself, but as the sole owner, I would recommend you check it out as soon as possible. It was of particular importance to your brother, this property. The key is in the file."

It's not residential…then what the fuck is it? My curiosity's got hold of me now, and West Konoha is four stops away. And the thing about being homeless and a dropout and everything is that you don't really have anything more productive to do, so I mutter a quick thank you and take Itachi's file and get the hell out of there.

"What was it, man?" Naruto asks eagerly, right on my heels as I leave the office and make for the bus stop. "Besides the money?"

"Hn. Property."

"Property? Where? Your brother was loaded, I bet he left you a mansion or some shit…"

"No. Some building in West Konoha."

"The art district? What the fuck for?"

His guess is as good as mine, so I don't say anything in return. We miss the bus by a minute and I'm too jacked to wait for the next one, so I flag down a cab. More expensive, but now I'm a fucking millionaire, right?

"Providence Street, West Konoha," I say shortly to the cabbie as Naruto jumps in after me.

West Konoha is a world away from the KPAA lifestyle. It's bohemian and there's no pretention there, just people doing whatever they love and making art, and other people appreciating it. Kakashi used to drag me and Kiba and some of the other artists at Ink and Iron downtown to look at the different galleries, take some pointers, get some inspiration. It was, as I remember, a pretty decent scene.

But what the hell would Itachi have found interesting about it?

Lost in my musings, I tip the cabbie way more than I should when he stops on busy Providence Street. 8338, 8338…

"Dude this place is legit," Naruto says from beside me. "I lived in Konoha for years, how'd I just now get around to seeing this?"

I ignore him because we're getting closer, the numbers are getting higher. This area of West Konoha is the absolute busiest, prime real estate.

And then, I see it. The only vacant building on the block, sitting tight between a coffee shop and an art gallery with wire sculptures in the window on display. It's not overly large, but its location is prime. And I see the faded number on the mailbox, the one that tells me this weird little building is mine.

"That's it?" Naruto exclaims. "You got the key, right, let's check it out!"

I grab the key from out of my pocket and jam it into the lock on the front door. It gives way instantly and then I'm inside this mystery building for the first time.

It's musty, but not dirty. Not in the way you'd expect, given it's been vacant for who knows how long. Like someone's been attempting to clean it up, judging by the broom and dustpan sitting neatly in a corner, and the air smelling like Windex and disinfectant.

"What the hell is this place?" Naruto asks, looking around, his voice echoing in the empty space.

Hell if I know, but it's mine, which means Itachi had some plan for it. Some fuckin' purpose he never saw fit to tell me while he was alive. How long did he have this building anyway? How long was he keeping it for me?

Naruto goes exploring while I kind of take it all in. There must be a reason for all of this, right? There's an answer to this riddle, there's got to be. A reason why I came back, a reason to make everything worth all the bullshit it took to get here.

"SASUKE!" Naruto yells from down the hall. "GET IN HERE, MAN, YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!"

Frowning, I jog down the hallway towards his voice and there's a doorless room and nothing inside it except an old table, and on that table in front of Naruto is a thick black box, one that I instantly recognize.

"Shit, man," I mutter, elbowing Naruto out of the way. "That's a tattoo machine."

And just like that, the pieces fit together, one by one, and the picture's starting to get clearer. I can't believe it took me this long to catch on, but finally I see the purpose for this building. Its location in the art district.

When I open the box and see the top-of-the-line tattoo machine sitting in velvet, dustless and ready, I get it.

"A tattoo shop," I hear myself say, and it sounds far away in the ghostly echo of the empty room.

"Holy fuckin' shit," Naruto breathes, nearly reverent as he too finally understands the function of 8338 Providence Street. "Itachi…he got you this place so you could have your own tattoo shop! Holy shit, dude, this is huge!"

I snort. Understatement. This is legendary. This is…this can't even be true, can it?

Because Itachi's spent his whole life trying to corral me into a future he thought would be good for me. He never acknowledged my not-so-secret fucking burning scalding passion for art and tattooing. He had me enroll in the same performance art school as he went to and gave me his fuckin' guitar, for Chrissake. Now here he goes in secret and from beyond the grave to give me something every kid who ever held a tattoo gun in his life before wishes like hell he could have.

My own tattoo shop. Holy mother of God.

There's a note in with the machine, too, and here's where I falter a little. Because this note is meant for me, and it's the last thing my brother's ever gonna say to me, in a manner of speaking. Once I read this, there won't be anymore surprises. I'm not sure how I know, but I do. This here is the last communication of Itachi Uchiha.

It's shaky, the handwriting, but unmistakably his. And what it says, in less than a handful of words and fragments of sentences, is everything I've ever wanted – needed – to hear from my brother.

Little brother,

To get you started. Be happy.

I am always proud of you.

If I were the type to cry, now would be the time, but my tears are all spent after his death. Instead, it feels like coming home for the first time since I've been back here. I got a taste of it when I saw Sakura step off the bus sweaty and starry-eyed, but here, here it's all in.

Because this is more than just a nest egg. More than any other worldly trinket he could have left me, more than the cash, more than even the fucking building I'm standing in. This is support. This is Itachi telling me to do what I need to do to be happy. To say fuck off to what everyone else wants for me – including him – and to find what I want, and do it as hard as I can.

That's why he bought this building. That's why he put it in my name and made sure it was located in an area of town that would bring in tons of traffic, tons of customers, tons of clients. More than the money, he was helping me make a career for myself. It's not what he would have picked for me, but it's what he's making happen for me even six feet under in a cemetery across town.

In the end, I realize, and against any modicum of sense, Itachi Uchiha loved me more than anything else. Maybe just as much as I loved – love – him.

"Who d'you think's been comin' here, anyways?" Naruto asks, as I fold the note up carefully and slide it in my jacket pocket. He looks around back and forth. "It's not all the way done or anything but someone's been cleaning in here…who would've done that?"

My eyes are drawn immediately to the tiny footprints on the dusty floor beneath us, too small to belong to me or Naruto. Whoever this Good Samaritan is, they're not finished with their work, but somehow I know who it is all the same. Cinderella sneaking in here in secret and silence to make things shine.

Remembering the same smell of Windex from the windows at Ink and Iron, I close my eyes and picture a little dancer girl with a heart too big for her body and a bottle of polish for a pewter wizard.

"I think I've got an idea," I mumble in reply.

Given the finality of my last conversation (argument) with Sakura, it seems pointless tracking her down again just to have another go. Not to mention having to look at her knowing there's no fuckin' hope is gonna cut my heart open, but I have to.

She's not at her dance studio or in the gym, and when I ask Ino she tells me she's got no idea. Deciding to bite the bullet, I get out my phone and dial the only number I remember off the top of my head. I doubt she'll answer, but she surprises me. Always does.

"…hello?"

Tentative. Nervous.

"Sakura."

Quiet. She's weighing words, so am I. She knew it was me, she didn't have to answer, but she did. So I'll speak.

"I went to Providence Street today."

"…oh. You did? That's good."

"I know it was you."

"What?"

The café I'm in, Ichiraku's, is weirdly empty this time of night, but it's warm without being too warm and the coffee is decent. I remember what she looked like that first time we came here, with that perfect ponytail and her hesitance to trust me, to let me in, but her determination to try. I remember being able to discern between fake, perfect, flawless Sakura and real, messy, down-to-earth Sakura, the one I fell in love with.

I wish she was here.

"Cleaning up out there. I know it was you."

"…"

"I'm not mad," I say quickly, to reassure her, still handling her with kid gloves. I don't know any other way. "I wanted to thank you."

"Oh. Um, yeah, no problem. I figured it was…you know. The right thing, and everything."

"You don't owe me anything," I tell her softly, wondering how much of what she's done for me, she's done out of some misplaced sense of duty. I think of Itachi's message to her, the obligation I released her from.

"It was the right thing to do," she reiterates, voice stronger. "Um, where are you?"

I blink, a little taken aback, because if I'm surprised she even answered her phone, I'm stunned that she's keeping the conversation going.

"Ichiraku's. Why."

"…would you be able to, uh, come pick me up or something?"

"Where are you? What's wrong?"

"I'm at my new dance studio at KCA."

KCA? What's she doing there?

"It's late and there's some weird guys hanging out by the bus stop. I'd take a cab, but I left my wallet in my dorm and I don't have enough on me to cover the fare. I'm sorry, it's probably a real pain in the ass, if you don't want to I'll just ask Naruto or something…"

Familiar, protective instincts surge to life at the realization that she's asking me for help; remembering how, without even knowing her, I nearly laid a guy out for harassing her, I'm on my feet slapping down enough money to cover my coffee and halfway out the door, Sakura still on the line.

"You're inside?" I say sharply.

"Yeah. It's Studio 1, on Cantor?"

"I know where it's at. Don't go outside till I get there."

"…it's not really that big a deal, if you don't want to do it, I can just…"

"Stay on the line with me," I interrupt, and I make it sound like it's just because that's safest for her, but as I hail a taxi for the second time that day, I know it's just because I don't want to hang up with her yet. Her voice is guarded but her words are trusting, an invitation, and even if she's shut me out on one level, I'll take whatever I can get. Late night bodyguard or not.

It's ten minutes before I get across town, and when I pass the bus stop in question, there's nobody there. Sakura meets me outside Studio 1 as promised with a guarded smile that doesn't reach her eyes, dressed in a zip-up hoodie and yoga pants, hair damp from a shower.

"Hey," she says, plainly nervous, and the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask, letting my eyes wander under the pretext of checking for injury or evidence of molestation, while absorbing all the ways she's changed for the better.

"Yeah, it ended up being nothing," she tells me, waving a hand airily. "They left about two minutes after I called you. Sorry to bother you over something so silly…"

I shake my head at her unnecessary apologies, about to offer her the cab I took, but she asks, "Uh, would you mind if we walked instead? I'm…kind of feeling a walk tonight."

A walk gives me more time with her than a cab ride does. And isn't that fucking pathetic? How eager I am, like a seal with a ball, for any scrap of her time and attention?

"Aa," I say, and my voice is satisfactorily careless.

She falls into step beside me, taking two steps for every one of mine, and I'm almost drowning in a familiar, floral scent I recognize as her shampoo. Before I can do anything stupid, I murmur, "KCA? What're you doing there?"

"Hmm? Oh. I kind of go there now. Unofficially, anyway."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why's it unofficial? What about KPAA? Your ballet program."

"Oh." Sakura giggles, but it's anxious, like she's worried about my response. "I don't…really do that anymore. After everything happened…" Everything being the way I wrote my name on her heart and then ripped it out of her chest, still beating. "…I kind of realized I'd had enough. I went to Tsunade – the head instructor at KCA – and she took me on as a student. Prepping me for college there. I do contemporary now."

Her anxiety wanes into something that sounds like pride. She's proud of herself, and I'm proud of her, too.

"Good," I say, a piss-poor approximation of what I mean to tell her: that she's amazing, that I love her, that I need her, that I wish I wasn't so toxic for her.

More silence. Still canyons between us, unspoken and silent, but she's here, and there aren't any tears. Maybe that's as much as I can hope for.

Then, she speaks.

"I loved your song."

She stops in her tracks, arms folded across her stomach, eyes looking anywhere but at me. I stop, too, stunned at what she's saying, at the gravity behind it.

"I hope I'm not presumptuous in assuming it was about me," she says, and I say nothing, a confirmation that of fucking course it was. "But…I mean, I just thought you should know I loved it."

"You did."

"Loved it and hated it. Sasuke, I…there's probably a better way of saying this and everything but I'm tired. I'm so tired of all the…the things between us that we don't say. The things that stack up higher and higher and then crush us under the weight, and we sit there like victims pretending like we didn't know it was coming."

She's rambling but nothing's ever made sense to me the way all this has. It's like she's digging her way into my head, ripping out the ineloquent thoughts I've got and verbalizing them. I'm almost in awe as I watch her framed in darkness and moonlight, because has she always been this beautiful?

"I want you to know," she tells me softly, "that I understand why you did what you did. Leaving and all that. I know why. I get it. I understand it wasn't personal…I took it to heart at first, but after everything…after what Itachi did for you…you were just doing what you thought he wanted you to do. I want you to know I understand."

You do, beautiful? You understand? Are you sure about that? I want to challenge her but she's still going and Sakura's the kind of girl you listen to, because she matters.

"…what you said last night. I have to know if you meant it."

I know exactly what she's talking about. Because we said a lot last night, I said so much last night, but I know she's got to be talking about the most important thing. The thing that's been true in me since she danced into my life with Windex and lips like wine.

I will love you forever.

"Aa," I tell her. Confirming.

Sakura nods to herself, then sighs. "I thought…I thought maybe knowing that might make this easier, but it doesn't."

She looks up at the stars, and shakes her head.

"I want everything to be okay again," she confides. "I want it to go back to the way things were before, but it can't. Because two months isn't a long time but for us, it changed everything. I'm not the same girl I was when you left, Sasuke, and I don't think you're the same boy."

She'd be right about that. This new Sasuke is a lot more self-aware…for better or worse. At least the old Sasuke didn't have quite so clear an idea as to what a fucking asshole he was/is/will be forever.

"I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn't mean I can…you know. Get past it. Or maybe it does. The point is I don't know yet."

Then she pins me with her gaze, with green eyes flecked with gold and intense as a volcanic eruption, and just as beautiful. Just as destructive. She's gonna ruin me again, right here on the street.

"I want someone," she whispers, "who's living his life for himself. Not someone who'll let himself be controlled by what other people want. I want someone selfish enough to do what makes him happy, and to still want me even when it's hard. Even when it's not convenient. Even when…when I go crazy and out of my mind, when I've got no money and all this stress, when I'm traveling the way I will be next year in Tsunade's dance company…I want someone who's selfish enough to live this life the way we're supposed to and find a way to fit me into it."

I grab her hand tightly, almost enough to hurt, but Sakura's stronger than I've given her credit for. Her words have made me desperate. She's not the only one with secrets in her heart.

"I'm shit at this," I tell her hotly, not letting her look or run away. "I didn't mean it, but I hurt you. Odds are I'll hurt you again. I don't know how to be what you want but fuck, Sakura, tell me how."

Tell me what to do to be that man you need. Give me a fucking instruction manual so I can figure this shit out, so I can find a way to make you mine the way we both need. I can't do this anymore, going through the motions without you.

"Just give me time, yeah?" she asks me softly, a plea, sweetly begged. "I don't…I don't know how long it'll take but…but I love you, too, Sasuke, I really do. So much. So much still. I tried hating you, and I couldn't. I tried being angry, but I understand. Just…can you give me some time? Please. And…and we'll see what happens."

She isn't giving herself to me again. She isn't promising that things will be all right again, that we'll get back together or whatever the hell we were or could've been if I hadn't left. She isn't saying yes.

…but she's not saying no either.

Time, is what she needs. Time for her to heal and trust again, time for me to figure my own shit out. Because she's smart and she's right, again: I can't be what she needs if I'm living someone else's life. She deserves someone who'll be there, who'll love her when it's not easy, who knows what the fuck he wants and goes after it. I was living Itachi's dream before. Then Orochimaru's.

But now, thanks to my brother, thanks to my friends, thanks to Sakura, all of that is in the past. I'm in charge now, I'm calling the shots. Itachi set me up, and now it's all on me.

Time. It's what she wants, so it's what I'll give her.

I don't say yes. I don't nod. I don't do anything to acknowledge her request, except bend down and kiss her forehead. She doesn't hit me again; instead, she pulls her hand back and wraps both arms around my neck. Holds me tight. Sweet and kind and forgiving. Not yet trusting, but trying.

And infinitely more than I deserve.

"I won't give up on you," she whispers, Itachi's message, but Sakura's promise.

A clean slate. Tabula rasa. I kiss her hair and answer, "I won't give you a reason to."

note.. hey there, nearly done with this jawn. hope you liked it, if you did, let me know! and happy holidays :)

xoxo daisy :)