Chapter 28: Solitude

On her first day of solitude, Sakura awoke to a raven flapping outside of her window. By the time she got up to look, the raven was gone and her message was, too. So, she put new sheets on her bed, decided to test them out, and went back to sleep.

On her second day of seclusion, Sakura awoke from a nightmare replaying how the redheads had turned her ribcage into a poorly woven basket. With shaky hands and a queasy stomach, she got out of bed and focused on cleaning her kitchen. The dried blood left her cream tiles a different hue, but once Sakura cleaned up the ceramic bits, no one would notice that she had mentally dissolved in this room. Deciding that she had done enough for one day, she took a quick shower and went back to bed.

One her third day of isolation, she awoke to a rhythmic knocking at her door. Sakura debated rolling over and going back to sleep, but it sounded like the knocking might persist for hours if she did not pacify its source.

With a vexed huff, she threw aside her comforter and stomped to the door. Huffing again, she threw it open and glowered at the world.

"What?" she snarled before giving her visitor even a cursory glance.

"Delivery!"

Finally, Sakura took the time to look at the peppy stranger. He was—as his words might have indicated—a deliveryman.

Sakura rolled her eyes and began to close the door. "You must have the wrong apartment—I haven't ordered anything. Try next-door."

Just as she finished closing the door in his face, he restarted his singsong knocking. With an impatient grumble, she reopened the door.

"You're Sakura Haruno, aren't you?" he asked with a cheery grin.

"Yeah," she mumbled, "Why do you ask?"

His face lit up like fireworks in the nighttime sky. "Because I have a very special blueberry delivery for you!" He held out a basket of blueberries with both hands. "You'll be getting one of these bad boys every Wednesday!"

"I didn't order these." Her face was flat, but her thoughts were racing. Did Itachi send her blueberries?

"Of course you didn't—they're a gift, silly! The gifter asked to remain anonymous, but I heard the women chattering about how handsome he was if that gives you any clues." His suggestive eyebrow waggling might have turned her stomach if her mishmash of emotions had not made her so unaffected by his ridiculous panache.

Sakura smiled wistfully. "Ah. I have an idea or two, then. You said I'll be getting these every Wednesday? Every Wednesday until when?" It seemed that Itachi had sent her more blueberries, after all.

"That's what makes this delivery so special! It's a lifetime supply. A lifetime supply! Isn't that amazing? You get a lifetime of blueberries and I get a lifetime of job security!" The deliveryman swooned at his fortuitous prospects and Sakura grasped the reasoning behind his jolly regard—it all made sense now.

While the deliveryman was over the moon, she felt a little giddy, too. Sakura had requested more blueberries and she certainly got them—a whole lifetime of them. Although she wondered where Itachi got the money for these types of expenditures, she had a sneaking sense of excitement at knowing that he saw her beyond the present. Sakura doubted that anyone would buy a lifetime supply of anything for someone he did not expect to stay in touch with for a very long time.

She allowed herself to grin at the deliveryman's personal celebration. "A lifetime supply of blueberries is pretty great. And job security is, too." She reached out and accepted her blueberries from his eager hands. "Thank you very much. If I'm not here for future deliveries, feel free to leave them outside of my door instead of waiting."

"Whatever works best for you!" He waved goodbye and began to leave. "Be sure to eat them all!"

As she closed the door, her heart throbbed with panic at the potential meaning behind his words: were these actually poison-coated blueberries sent from Danzo rather than innocent blueberries from Itachi? With horror, she realized that she would have to sniff everything she ate until Danzo died.

A new idea struck her and eased the trepidation in her extremities. The deliveryman's farewell had contained a hidden meaning, but it was not from Danzo and it was not encouraging her to scarf down a bunch of poison. Now knowing what he meant, Sakura plunged her hand into the pool of blueberries and wiggled her fingers around until she felt what she was looking for: an envelope hidden at the bottom of the basket. It seemed that the deliveryman knew the true contents of his delivery.

Sakura popped a handful of the succulent fruit into her mouth and took her package into the kitchen. This letter looked identical to his last correspondence, except that it was a little thinner. The thinness did not surprise her; Itachi was a concise person.

After wiping her hands on her pajama pants, Sakura opened the envelope to find a small rectangular postcard. It was plain, off-white cardstock, but the plainness became elegant by the grace of his enviably flawless scrawl.

Thank you.

She flipped it over.

Not even a lifetime of blueberries is enough to repay your kindness.

Then, at the bottom of the card, he wrote his last words for her.

I've missed you. And, I promise: not a moment of my missing has been wasteful.

Sakura set down the card and whispered her own old words aloud. "And if my future wasn't looking pathetic enough, I'll probably waste my time missing you, too."

In retrospect, she realized the venomous sting that her old words had held. However, at the time she had not worried about their sting because she had assumed that he would not care. Here and now, Sakura finally understood that caring was the primary motivation behind most of Itachi's actions—regardless of whether he hid it in repelling threats to his brother or personally tailored pancakes for breakfast.

Someone so overworked and outwardly stoic found the time, desire, and mental energy to miss her. And, unlike when Sasuke said the same words, she did not second-guess him for even one moment. Many people had contributed to the patchwork quilt of lies covering her life, but Itachi was not one of them. Despite his dastardly reputation, he was the most honest person she had ever met.

She supposed that she owed him her own honesty. Sakura missed him. She missed his cooking, his kindness, his awkward humor, his concern for others, his sharp acumen…—Sakura missed a lot of things about him. But, most of all, she missed getting to know him. There was so much more to Itachi than his villainy charade. Getting to know him was like gazing upon the dark side of the moon: it was an improbably unique experience.

Yet, as much as she missed him—and as much as she trusted him—acknowledging it left her in a position of vulnerability. It would be hard task to confess, but she owed him forthright honesty rather than mendacious omission.

Sakura retrieved her writing utensils from a drawer and sat down at her kitchen table. If Itachi could give a lot, then she could give a little. With a look of determination wrought on her face, she began to scribble away on the paper.

Itachi,

I'd like to say "thank you," but such a simple phrase is inadequate. Alas, we must all suffer the limitations of language. So, thank you for everything. Especially for saving Naruto. I know it must have been hard to get Sasuke back to Konoha, but Naruto is alive and healthy thanks to you.

Are you sure you can afford a lifetime supply of blueberries, though? I don't mean to sound insulting, but I'd imagine that to be expensive. Don't get me wrong: I can eat a lifetime supply of blueberries. I just don't want you to go in debt over it.

Blueberries aside, how's life now that you're back with the Akatsuki? I bet it's not boring. Though, I'm sorry that your partner is such a gross womanizer.

Life back in Konoha has been overwhelming. Your brother was here for a little while. He's off doing who-knows-what, as usual. Tsunade and Naruto were pestering me—out of love, of course—but I couldn't take it anymore. So, I'm spending a week alone to reacquaint myself with the free world. I'm sure that a week won't be enough, but it is certainly better than nothing.

And, it's weird, you know? Even though I want to be alone right now, I still miss you. I really miss you, and I was wrong: my missing you hasn't been a waste. You're one of the people in my life who's worth missing. Please don't ever think otherwise.

With all of that out of the way, there's one more thing I need to tell you: Sasuke left Konoha again. However, he's going to return. And when he returns, I'm going to tell him the truth. I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but I thought you deserved to know.

Now, my next request is a lot more demanding than my last: more letters. I know that I'm asking a lot, but I think that you can do it.

S

P.S. What did you mean by the "four abberations"?

Sakura smiled and tucked the letter into an envelope. As eager as she was to send it his way, she would wait until nightfall to place it on her windowsill. In the meantime, she stowed the letter away in a drawer and readied herself for a shower.

As she ran the water and undressed, Sakura determined that today would be her last day of waking up for the sake of going back to bed. Tomorrow, she would restart her training regimen and she would make it more strenuous than ever.

The next time Sakura met Danzo, she would be ready.


On her fourth day of reclusion, Sakura awoke from another nightmare to a bright room and a vacant windowsill. It seemed that another raven had swooped by while she slept. She smiled knowing that Itachi would read her letter soon, if he had not done so already.

She still felt a bit twitchy from her latest prison-related nightmare, but she knew how to beat those twitches into submission: training. While she could not change the past, she could empower herself to prevent its repetition.

Sakura vaulted herself out of bed and donned a carbon copy of her traditional red dress and undershorts. She grabbed some food pills to keep in her bag, made sure she had plenty of weaponry, and ran out the door with only a pause to lock it behind her.

Forgoing the streets, Sakura jumped from rooftop to rooftop until the rooftops became tree branches. Finally, the trees thinned and her traditional training spot stood in their orifice. Her heart fluttered upon seeing its preserved state—the broken tree stumps and worn-out targets were just as she had left them.

This was home. These trees watched her spend years of her life building and polishing her personal temple. This ground knew the taste of her sweat and this air knew the smell of her blood. This place watched her grow into the hardened warrior she was today; it watched her earn her strength and maturity.

Immediately, Sakura fell into her old routine. She began with a series of stretches to loosen up her muscles and prevent damage during training. Then, she transitioned into her workout.

When she began panting at her 253rd jumping jack, she realized how sorely her routine had fallen to the wayside over the past few months. Sakura had not grown weak, but she certainly was not in her peak physical condition.

Still, she forced herself to keep going through push-ups, crunches, pull-ups, and every type of weight-free workout one could imagine. After two hours of grueling self-punishment, she moved onto her weighted workout.

Sakura's muscles and bones groaned in agony. But, she kept going. She would do this until it became easy again—and then, she would make her workout even tougher. She would keep pressing forward until she met nature's limits.

After another two hours of weighted exercises using kettlebells disguised as boulders, Sakura stretched some more. Once she felt sufficiently limber, she allowed her knees to collapse and fell to the ground in a cross-legged sitting position. With no new jutsu to learn, this part of training was vital—it honed her awareness and bolstered her chakra. However, most importantly, it grounded her.

She sat in the middle of the clearing and allowed her eyes to drift closed. Images of blood and sounds of cackling laughter rattled inside of her head, but she pushed them away. They could haunt her during sleep, they could haunt her during waking, but they could not invade her moments of meditation.

Mediation drew her into a state that was neither sleeping nor waking. It took her to a fog-covered river into which she could pour out all of her woes—a river into which she could empty herself. And as she sat at the edge of that riverbed, she could feel every bit of herself pull away and float downstream with the natural flow of its current.

Within moments of pressing away the nightmarish images of brutality, she found herself at that beloved riverbed. And, just as Sakura found herself at its edge, she lost herself in its current. Within moments, Sakura was nothing.


Authoress's Note:

Decided to throw this up quickly before toiling through my to-do list for the evening, but I wanted to thank you all for reading, send an Internet hug to those who take the time to review, and wish you all a fine night!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter,

A