and the scarry skies above


same old


"Where's Naruto?"
"Oh, he's out and about… He has a lot of friends, so that's keeping him busy when he's not training or on missions…" Silence. Itachi puts down his cup with a soft click.

"How's work at the hospital?"

"Oh, same old, same old… You know… I've been taking on more civilian cases as of lately… They seem to be overcoming their suspicion regarding medical nin-jutsu. That's good, wouldn't you say?" A non-committal hum is Itachi's only answer.

Sakura seems to hesitate, then she gingerly perches on the couch next to Itachi who is slumped back into the cushions. "So how are you?"

The question is gentle, and soft, and it causes Itachi to turn his head to the side so he can look at her more properly.

He is tired, and his eyes are burning.

A thousand possible responses flash through his head, each of which will take the conversation into a different direction. Sorrow at how this very night, his father is going to be brainwashed by a member of his own family. He could tell her about how Shisui is probably going to contemplate suicide afterwards, because he will feel like a traitor. Itachi knows his cousin. They are more alike than he cares to admit on most days. And then there's the disbelief, and the absolute earth-shattering disappointment he feels when reflecting on just how far the leadership of this village is willing to go in order to preserve order and, to a lesser extent, peace. Because Itachi himself – he's the backup plan. In case it doesn't work, in case the clan doesn't bend.

If the problem cannot be solved, it will be eradicated.

But Itachi lacks both the energy and the viciousness to go off on a tangent like that. It would feel too much like lashing out. It's not what Sakura deserves. And when he meets her searching gaze, he understands that she already knows. Because even if he's only given her the bare bones, a clinical recounting of his meeting with the council, even if he's left out any personal evaluation – she already knows. She always does.

"I'm tired," he admits. She blinks slowly, and the corners of her mouth twist down sadly. Leans into his side and curls her arms around him. Itachi lets his head drop and come to rest on her shoulder. They sit like this for a long time, quiet, until dusk begins to settle and steam no longer curls from their neglected cups of tea.

"I don't think I can be a shinobi anymore," Itachi murmurs into the stillness. She shifts a bit, and her jonin uniform rustles softly. He takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of her, before he lets the air rush back out from his lungs and take with it those damning words he has been too quiet to speak his entire life.

"I don't like fighting. I don't like hurting. I know we're supposed to grow at least indifferent to it, but I can't. After each mission, I am tired past the standard time of recuperation. Sometimes, in the mornings, my bones feel too heavy for me to get up. But still I do, every day, and I go out, and take missions, and continue to hurt and to kill, because… because…" He flounders, and gives up. Sakura presses her cheek against the crown of his head.

"Because you are kind," she murmurs into his hair, trails soothing fingers over his arm. "Because you are strong, and dedicated, and you would give everything in your power to see this village and its people safe. You are brave, Itachi. More so than you know." Her embrace tightens minutely. "You will find your way. You might not see it right now. But you'll get there, in time."

Abruptly, he pulls from her embrace, and sits up, half-turning to face her more fully. "I want to walk away from it all," he breathes. Her eyes flash with comprehension. It shines like a gentle light, strengthens his resolve. "I want to walk away, and never return."

He looks at her, truly looks at her, and for the first time in years, what he sees is not compassion, or wisdom, or the sheer perfection he has built her up to be. In the orange light filtering in through the window, the scars gleam softly on her exposed skin, and her hair is tinted as red as the Uzumaki swirl on the sleeve of her uniform. Sitting here, looking at him with a level of understanding that runs so deep it hurts, she's every bit as broken and messed up and tired as he is. And somehow, that makes him love her even more.

Just hours ago, he was adrift, reeling. And now he's here, with her, feeling more assured and determined of his path than he has in a long, long while. Hours ago, he was wondering where to go. Now he's thinking, was there really ever any question?

"I want to leave," he reiterates, squares his shoulders, takes her hands in his. Presses his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

"Come with me."


A/N: Thanks for your sweet reviews, and for sticking with this story! The last chapter was super short and I thought I'd give you something more to read, so here you go! I hope you enjoy.

PugEyed, I honestly don't feel quarantine to be relaxing. It makes me antsy, and seen as I live in a student dorm, I'm always stuck in the same tiny room. It's going to be an interesting few weeks. But I'm sure we'll manage. Hang in there!

I'll see you next update, whenever that may be! Probably once I'm bored enough by quarantine to finally submit myself to proofreading the next chapter.

Lots of love, as always,

planless