A stalemate.

"No, that would imply no further action going forward. This is simply lesson time."

Sakura really hates it when Reborn does that: his uncanny mind-reading ability. She does not believe it, not really, but it is moments like this that make her doubt. She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, eyeing the hitman seated similarly across from her. They are both dressed for bed, Sakura with her long hair flowing freely around her shoulders and Reborn sans his signature fedora.

Night time is commonly meditation time, but Reborn has other plans.

Between them, seven identical glasses are set up with clear, colourless liquid.

"It took me a while to pinpoint it, but now, I am certain," Reborn says. "You've been fighting against the nature of your flames. That is the dumbest thing someone in your position could do."

Sakura's jaw drops, offended, instantly bubbly heat rises within her to leave her as words.

Reborn raises a tiny hand, halting all protests.

"You act like an expert on dying will flames—but you're not. You have barely scratched the surface. The expert sits in front of you. The expert is the doctor you hate so much. You are fumbling in the dark, too stubborn to turn on the lights."

His eyes turn from her to the setup in front of them. Similarly, Sakura's attention also diverts. Reborn continues, "Your goal for this exercise is to not die. All the glasses are poisoned. Only one of them won't kill you. Find that one and drink it, using only your flames. Poison checking is a common skill of Sky users—The basics, actually." He smirks. "Should be a piece of cake, no?"

Sakura huffs, countering, "I don't see why I need to drink any of these."

"Why? Are you scared?" Reborn taunts.

"I'm not scared. I just don't see why I have to voluntarily poison myself for your amusement."

"That's alright, Sakura," Reborn placates, fake sincerity dripping from his faux innocent baby-face. "If it's too much for you, I have a much safer, simpler lesson for you."

"I didn't say I couldn't handle a little poison," Sakura snarls, grabbing the right most glass. Reborn watches, silent finally, so she gets to work on examining each glass.

No smell. Same viscosity. Too bad she can't taste it without dying. She doesn't even have a poison kit—so unprepared. She tests the solution with the barest of her flames; it doesn't change in any way to indicate the presence of her Sky flames. She lifts the glass—solution a mix of poison and her flames—to the backdrop of her white bedroom light. Not even a tinge of orange—she smirks a little at that, before coming back to herself. There's no point in knowing she can sneakily check for poisons when she can't actually yet check for poison.

Sakura puts down the glass, scrambling off her bed for her water bottle in her bag. Fortunately, there's still a little water. She settles back in bed, her not poisoned water—the control solution—in one hand and a poisoned solution in the other. Using her flames to compare them, she finds though the look similar, they don't feel it. She switches glass and finds three unique solutions.

Alarms ring in the background of her mind.

Frantically, she checks the rest of the glasses. Sure enough, she finds seven different poisoned solutions.

That bastard Reborn, her home tutor from hell.

Instead of using one poison and changing the dosage per glass, he actually went and got seven different physically untraceable poisons. Each and every glass, a different solution. Six different ways to die. All for his entertainment.

Besides being able to differentiate between poison and non-poison, she doesn't yet know how to tell if the poison can kill her yet.

Think. What else can she do? He has got to have given her a clue sometime. He was accusing her earlier—of arrogance... or ignorance? Both? Did he want her to ask him directly for help then? Her eyes flick up, meeting the concentrated stare of her tutor. His face does not give any further sign, but her eyes flick back to the problem in front of her, anyway. No, that can't possibly be the next step.

First, she needs to exhaust all her options on her own. Then she asks for help. That's how Tsunade taught her.

Sakura grinds her teeth, eyes narrowed in a glare. The glasses sit uncaring.

Finally, with no way around it, she thinks back to the core of her fights with Reborn lately. Instantly, irritation boils, defensive but ready. Almost every lesson or chat is harmony this harmony that, Sakura doesn't see the great importance of it all. Obviously, Reborn is wrong. She can heal just fine with her Sky flames. She heals minor bruises and soothes her body's aches nightly. Sure, it's more brute force than the expert finesse she once had, but that could be attributed to the difference between flames and chakra.

The unbearable ache after each healing session must just be from her exhausting most of the flames in her body. When her Byakugou finishes, and storing flames becomes a streamlined background process instead of a conscious forefront action that takes up precious of her concentration, the ache will disappear too. After all, it's normal to ache after expanding energy, isn't it?

—But that's not entirely true.

Sakura's lip purses, her brows scrunching up. She's no longer seeing the glass, switching instead to her fingers with callouses that are still too soft for her liking. She can still remember sharply the feeling of cupping Sun flames in Reborn's hands, of first unlocking her Sky flames and finally coming home.

Those first few days were different, weren't they? Back before she connected her Byakugao. Two days of exhausted training, and while her entire body ached, internally there was peace. The Dying Will bullet gave her easy access to her flames and with casual disregard to consequences (and Reborn's violent insistence), she expelled most of it from her body—Careless and free, with no regard of flame output or limitations or anything.

Back then, she didn't feel like she has one foot in her grave already.

What was the difference between then and now?

Was it simply her Byakugou? Straining too much too quickly?

"Can you finish the Dying Will flames in your body? Is it like blood where if you have too little you die?" she asks.

Reborn's eyes assess her, his face wiped clean of emotions. "They heavily depend on emotions, which are linked to determination. This means that they are environmentally influenced, such as health, diet, level of activity. If you have a little, you can always make more, which is not possible for the dead as they can't produce any. Sleeping people and coma patients produce little Dying Will but they also use little. Everyone has flames in their body, but only Dying Will users can manifest this internal energy externally. This leads to sustained production, which strains the body. But no, it doesn't matter how little you have within your body, as long that there is any."

She turns his words over in her mind. If she understands that right, her sustained production is not a big deal. As long as there is always some level of energy within her body.

Then what is the problem?

Was it just the healing—how she used her flames? She doesn't want to think so, but every day the feeling grows stronger. She would have gone forever happily ignoring it, if Reborn wasn't so damn observant and annoying and irritatingly insistent.

"It's because I'm right," Reborn says.

Not. Now. Reborn.

"Get to the point already, Sakura."

Sakura does, by pushing her flames once again into the glass, this time unfiltered and raw. It boils. Now there's an idea. If she evaporates all the water, she won't have to drink anything—which would be a pipe dream, Sakura knows Reborn can whip up more. She dials back her flames, letting it sit aimlessly floating through the solution, mimicking the flames within her body.

Wait.

It could not be that easy.

Could it?

She opens her senses, picking up the fiery presence within her body. The flow within her body is unusual, uneven as it was with the flames produced in the middle of her forehead almost instantly disappearing. The other production checkpoint then works over time, supplying her flames for her entire body. This would be fine usually, but the brain in itself is an active factor in Dying Will production, at times using or supplying vast amounts of flames, fluctuating wildly with her moods. The rest of the flames within the body wait on her.

Not unlike how it is inside the poisoned solution in her hand right now.

Harmony Reborn has been harping on about.

And so she focuses on the harmony aspect within her flames.

Even though it's the same flames, same quantity and quality, within different mediums, they act differently. Harmonising flames within her body (from any area besides her head) and within the solution doesn't work.

Well, it does, only when she powers through—But not seamlessly.

She could work with that.

It is not a moment more than she arranges the glasses in a line in accordance to seamless integration. There's a definite line between what her flames like to harmonise with and what they would just because she forces it too. There are four glasses that her flames do not like at all, preferring to boil the solution rather than harmonise with it. For the other three glasses, her flames act as reluctant workers, dragging their feet and putting on a show of great reluctance. It's actually a little amusing.

Of those three glasses, the one that her Sky flames like most would be difficult to discern on a normal user, but she is Sawada Sakura—previously Haruno—and tricky, minute details like that which helps distinguish her as an elite medic nin.

She singles that glass out, meeting Reborn's gaze and daring him to tell her she's wrong.

All he does in return is raise an eyebrow.

Sakura downs the glass in one shot.

..


..

"I hate you," Sakura groans, turning restlessly to her other side. Fever has wracked her body on and off for the last two days before finally settling just as her immune system finally picks up momentum. Even so, her limbs are sweaty, her mind hazy with thick clouds, and her body aches even when she lies still in bed. In her previous life, it would be a minor matter to filter intoxicants out of her body, but the fact of it is that her control over her flames is still subpar. She hates to admit it, but they are barely handling the constant cycling into her Byakugou, nevermind this new—never before seen—poison. If she was familiar with its general composition, she could guide her body's responses, but frustratingly this world is much larger than her old one with a whole plethora of plants she has not yet gotten to intimately know. It's both exciting and frustrating.

Basically, she feels like shit, she couldn't do anything about it currently, and it's all Reborn's fault.

"Good job, Sakura. Poison detection & reflection is an attribute of a great mafia boss, particularly self-reflection," Reborn says in his pyjamas once more; this time it is pastel pink with large white polka dots and a matching cotton nightcap. He's not settled in his usual corner, instead setting up a foldaway bed nearer to her height and vicinity so she can easily blame him for everything wrong in her life without raising her voice higher than a whisper.

Sometimes he can be really considerate like that.

Mostly, he's doesn't care.

His words register sluggishly after a few beats, sitting sour on her tongue. Has Reborn reflected a day in his life? She doesn't think so.

"I constantly reflect on which training methods would suit you best."

Sakura groans once more, extra annoying, in protest. She discards the idea of puking into the wastebasket, even though it would serve him right.

"You wouldn't be like this if you just let Shamal heal you."

Sakura groans again, though not because she aches. "Not Shamal."

"Shamal is your designated doctor," Reborn counters, not for the last time. "There's hardly anyone, in Vongola or out of it, who could do better. And he does it all despite being a Mist user. If nothing else, shouldn't that make you curious?"

It's not that Sakura isn't curious, or doubts his ability. She believes he is in fact perfectly capable. Capable and a complete pervert—Kakashi, Jiraiya, Anko—she's seen the type.

Sakura would have been content to ignore Reborn from that point on, but of course he makes that impossible. "Next to Sun flames, Mist flames are the best for healing," he continues, a concession; both to bribe and placate her. "Though more suited in the short-term, it often serves as a stop-gap into a more permanent solution. Illusions, no matter how strong, still aren't real. Without constant thought and flow, they will disappear. That's why the focus of a Mist user is often unparalleled. After Mist, Rain and Lightning flames would each serve specific uses, while the effects of Sky flames are currently unknown. Storm and Cloud flames, when applied medically, often do more harm than good."

Her brows furrow in confusion. "I thought your friend..?"

"My acquaintance's use of Cloud flames is a special case. Nobody else can heal like he does; as in terms of Cloud flames, his are purest."

It's a mix of intuition and experience that makes her decide that Storm and Cloud flame users often lack control. Medical chakra too does more damage than necessary when applied straight but with no finesse. It's such a shame, disintegration and propagation are such handy characteristics.

What flames do Hayato have? Reborn never told her. It's not Sky, & probably not Sun either. That leaves five other possible flame types. It doesn't matter really, she still must train him to sharpen his control. After she gets her own control in check, that is.

That reminds her.

"Reborn-sensei," Sakura begins, before rolling onto her back and staring into the dark ceiling, "Will Gokudera-kun's father be a problem?"

"Why would it?" Sakura's gaze falls onto Reborn in disbelief. He's lying down, hands behind his head with his gaze directed to the ceiling above, which irks her for he could at least pretend he's giving her all his attention or act the slightest bit remorseful for poisoning her. "He would be ecstatic to hear if Gokudera became a Guardian. It is a great honour after all."

"Ah." She doesn't understand. "Are we allies?"

"No, but they are not enemies. Next to Vongola, any famiglia is wanting. For them, this is climbing the mafia ladder."

She lets that sink in, mulling over it thoughtfully. "But Gokudera-kun hates them?"

"Wouldn't matter. It's an in they would be foolish to ignore."

..


..

"Here, Jyuudaime, I've got your water."

"Thank you, Gokudera-kun."

Sakura takes it, laces her flames through it to check for poison and then, finding none, drinks it. Reborn gives her a knowing look. She does not acknowledge this. This means nothing, and Reborn knows it, she's taken to checking if Nana's cooking is poisoned too. It's a good habit to get back into.

"You don't have to be here every time Reborn-sensei and I train," she says, "especially since you could do better things with your time." Like his homework, for example. He hasn't yet handed in a single one. The teachers are becoming frustratingly resigned.

Once again, all three of them are in a secluded area of the park, quite close by to where she thought Reborn was going to kill her for the second time, actually.

"I'm sorry you had to waylaid Takeshi again. I feel bad, but it's for the best." You think since Takeshi is back to his two hours after-school club practice that he would have less time to wiggle into the crazy shenanigans of Reborn, but no, it seems to only spurs him on.

At least, he's no longer overworking himself. Tsuyoshi and Kiyano has been extra vigilant in their reports to her. They have been keeping her updated on the situation, though she's only asked once. Personally, Sakura thinks Takeshi has learned his lesson quite well. He's not the type to repeat mistakes, even a second time. But she can understand the adults' need, she too observes Takeshi carefully but with a lot more subtlety.

Hayato waves his hand. "It's no problem. Yamamoto needs more help in the restaurant lately. So I told the baseball idiot that if the restaurant was declining, it would be his fault. He didn't like that." Hayato shrugs unbothered. "But if you never want him near again, he can go to hell."

Sakura hides her face with her face towel, partially to wipe off sweat, but mostly because the face she's making would give Hayato extreme anxiety. She's this close to simply screaming into it.

She doesn't know if it's because Team A, under Hayato's leadership, lost the Pole Knocking (and therefore placed second overall) or that he decided that baring vulnerability in front of her was a mistake, but it seems lately that it's been one step forward, two steps back with Hayato. Instead of being more open (or at least more amiable to the possibility of being open), he falls back to only caring for her needs and wants, and keeping anything too personal behind thick cement walls.

Furthermore, his friendship with Takeshi, non-existent or otherwise, has taken a meaner edge.

No matter how long she deliberates on how to fix this, she still comes up with nothing.

"If you feel bad, why don't you explain it to Yamamoto and let him decide?" a high-pitched voice interrupts, faux innocently.

Sakura shoots Reborn a dirty look around her towel. She knows his game, and she won't fall for it. "He shouldn't be making life decisions at fourteen," she snaps.

"I swear I'll bring him back! On my life!" flows like a lingering curse. She aggressively squishes it, before Reborn can read more from her face than she wanted him too.

Is it too late to go around like Kakashi?—No, she changes her mind. Who knows how sanitary that mask is? Simple answer is: Never enough.

Reborn's corresponding stare makes her to be the root cause of stupidity.

Smartly, she changes the subject. "Gokudera-kun, do you mind if I use you as a subject to practice healing? I want to soothe someone else's pain, starting small with any aches or pulled muscles. It would differ from healing myself, so I want to gauge my skill level." Hayato's eyebrows pull his face down, hesitance clear. Sakura rushes to reassure him, "It's okay if you're not comfortable with that, it might feel like my flames are invading yours, since you are flame-active, so you would most probably notice the disruption. I will, of course, stop immediately if you feel pain or if it just too uncomfortable for you."

Despite his unspoken reservation, Hayato agrees, "I—Of course! It's no problem! What do I do?"

"Sit down with your shirt off. Yeah, that'll be fine," Sakura says, barely blinking with the way he hurries to follow her commands, bearing his back to her. Even so, his shoulders are still tense, his fist clenching slightly with nerves. "It's fine if you don't want to. I don't want to force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

Hayato relaxes his shoulders, but she knows it is mostly a show for her. "No, this is fine. This is nothing."

Sakura knows it's bad for her to even think of taking advantage of a patient, especially when it's clear to her, he's not 100% comfortable with this. But the fact of the matter is that she needs to practice on someone else—Someone flame-active, flame-dormant, on animals, humans, herself; they don't all react the same.

Impulsively, her eyes flickers to Reborn; and at his nod, she steels her heart.

It's fine. Hayato is probably only worried because it's the first time someone has done this to him. She is not sure what's the protocol for healing with flames, besides what Reborn mentioned about Sun's inherent healing properties.

Even now, something fundamental inside Sakura rebels at the thought that she could no longer heal others. Years of her life—It can't all have been a waste. After all, chakra was not inherently healing—you had to have control to change it into healing chakra.

Sakura kneels, placing her hands on Gokudera-kun's back. She'll make it so he has nothing to worry about, painless and quick, he wouldn't even notice her intrusion. Letting her flames seep seamlessly into his body, she gets to work. Her hands are steady, there is no glow—green, orange or otherwise.

Almost immediately, her eyebrows pull together, her mouth set in a frown. She disregards any further plans for a simple routine inspection and clean-up.

Her eyes cut to Reborn, demanding silence. Eerily observant as he is, he hasn't failed to notice her change in demeanour, but he goes along, if only to see what happens next.

Thankfully, Hayato remains ignorant, and her voice doesn't betray her as she asks lightly, "How is your job at the convenience store? Is the owner still scared of you?"

Hayato snorts, and his body (along with Sakura's hands) starts with it. "He's just an old man with no backbone, nothing to worry about. Lately, I've been badgering him for more shifts. The ones I have now have the least traffic."

"Is there a problem with that?" Sakura asks, curious.

"No, I don't care. It's less work for me, and I can just sleep in class the next day. It's decent pay, but I'll need extra to buy supplies for this new bomb I'm experimenting with."

The topic of money, more specifically Hayato's money, brings her to the memory of his apartment when she practically demanded to see it. He did not like it, grumbling and trying to lead her away with a billion and one excuses, before eventually giving in. She was right; it was in a poor neighbourhood, with a known yakuza hideout just down the street. The apartment itself was on the first floor, tiny and worn with age. The windows wouldn't lock properly and the door barely looked like it could hang on its hinges. Inside was not much better. Hayato owns one futon and a table, with everything else deemed unnecessary. Though clean and liveable, it was noticeably old with stains on the wooden floorboard which could be spilled drinks or old blood. The kitchen was just as bare, with only one glass and cutlery but no bowls. The bathroom was cramped with barely enough room to turn in a circle. Sakura didn't need to ask to know that Hayato would have needed to spend hours scrubbing the mould from the walls and floor when he moved in.

Takeshi was there too, tagging along as he often does lately. While Sakura was falling steeper into simply begging Hayato to stay at her place again (and probably sending him into just as foul a mood as the first time), all Takeshi said was, "So what was the price before and after you threatened the landlord?"

It was the first time that Sakura doubted Takeshi's social awareness.

But then, Hayato scoffed, kicking his shoes off and sitting around the desk. Takeshi follows closely, already pulling out the customary sushi gift, and setting it out to share. Hayato bragged at how dirt cheap he swindled the landlord for, with Takeshi making suitably impressed noises. Easily, they lead the conversation as she slowly joined them. Her mind preoccupied with other things, such as how easily Takeshi got Hayato relax.

"A new bomb?" Sakura says, refocusing on the conversation, "I think you should invest in a better futon first and a heater for winter months. The prices are lowest now since it's summer."

"Don't worry, Jyuudaime! Shamal is supposed to bring my stuff over from Italy. But he's been 'busy.'" Hayato air quotes.

Sakura sighs but says no more on it. "How do you know Shamal? You address him so familiarly."

"Oh, I've known him since I was a child. He used to come over to my house, for family business, with a different woman hanging on his arm. Every time I asked who she was, he said it was his sister. I counted 229 sisters before I started to catch on."

Sakura swallows a laugh, caught between many emotions—disgust at Shamal, disbelief at Hayato, amusement at the objectively outrageous situation—but overwhelming all that is the image of a much younger Hayato, who was so gullible he believed Shamal of all people. He would've been so cute.

Sakura hums in sympathy, though she couldn't stop her smile from spreading across her face.

Apparently, complaining about Shamal comes easy to him because the stories keep coming.

After a long thirty minutes since the start of her healing session, she finally deigns to detach her hands.

"How does that feel Gokudera-kun? I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable. You were a model patient." She smiles when he turns around. His cheeks flush red at the praise.

"No, it was fine. It was like a warm wave. You were amazing! I barely felt it! Also, my muscles definitely feel better than before."

"I'm glad. I didn't really heal anything, in the sense of active repair. It's more like I help reinforce tearing muscles and encourage them to do the rest." It's not a perfect technique, since it relies more on her harmony factor and syncing between cells. But it is useful in minor techniques and even in meditation.

"That's similar to healing with Sun flames," Reborn says.

"Is it?" Sakura hums. "That's interesting. If I was more familiar with my flames, it would not take as long. But I guess that's what practice is for, right?"

Hayato escorts them home before flouncing back to his own. Sakura waves him off like normal.

..


..

Sakura wakes in the middle of the night, an hour after she is sure her mother went to bed. She hasn't really been sleeping, merely waiting in bed. It's dark, the waxing crescent moon giving the barest of light through her window. Reborn's shadowed figure blows a sleeping bubble in his corner, in time with his breaths. Dressing quickly and simply, she leaps quietly from her window to the backyard before taking off down the street.

She did not have to wait long.

"Where are we going?" Reborn's high-pitched voice is the perfect mix between curiosity and childishness. What an actor.

"Could you call Shamal and tell him we're coming? Also tell him to get rid of his company if he has any." Reborn doesn't raise his eyebrow but she can feel his desire for knowledge like a knife to her side. She apologises with her eyes, for she knows how he hates being ordered around. "I'll explain when we reach there. I don't want to explain twice."

That settles him for now. Reborn is a contradiction, patient and impatient at the same time. But she knows he can tell she is not lying, at least. She hasn't found it necessary to lie to him yet.

..


..

"Oh? If its not the young Vongola." Shamal leans back on his bed on his elbows, shirtless. His pyjama bottom hangs low on his hips, showing his hipbones. "What ever do you need?" he drawls, eyes half-lidded. The mostly romantic lighting of the hotel room highlights the stretching muscles of his abdomen.

He's truly a disgusting man, for making such an obvious ploy on her hormones.

A fit, disgusting man.

"Does Gokudera-kun know?"

He lifts an eyebrow leisurely, a smirk curling the side of his mouth. "Know?" His voice is low and earthy, a deep rumble from his chest. He has a lot of nerve to use that tone on her with Reborn right here.

"About the chemistry between us?" he asks. His smouldering eyes alight on her with a mischievousness she has no time for.

"About his illness."

It happens in an instant, faster than breathing. His eyes losing their teasing glint, gaining a harder seriousness. His mouth flattening into a neutral expression. This is a man who is finally taking her seriously, and she revels in it—being in the presence of professionals even when the telltale current of nervousness runs up her back.

It's stubborn pride that makes her deliberately not change her posture.

His calculating dark eyes scan her up and down now, in a manner he didn't when she first entered, as if dissecting her under a microscope. "How did you find out?" he asks, clinically detached.

"I ran my flames through his system."

"Just like that?" Shamal, tone disbelieving, raises an eyebrow incredulously.

"I'm good," Sakura says.

"Well, the other doctors were good too—the best even—but it still couldn't save his mother."

His face might be relaxed and his voice flippant, but she knows like a sixth instinct that this is a bitter man.

She sees it in herself, in her dreams, in her brown eyes that she still can't believe are hers.

She could recognise it anywhere, in anyone else.

Shamal continues, "He has 15 years, give or take, without factoring in his flames. I hoped for him to have Sun flames but considering he has Storm..." Shamal shakes his head slightly, hair waving. "He might have less than that even."

"Let me help." Sakura's mind is made, just as her resolute as her decision to join the mafia. She will save Hayato, with or without Shamal's help.

"I've tried everything." He brushes her offer aside, helping himself to some alcohol he kept on the bedside table. "What could you offer that I haven't thought of yet?" His words are belittling but Sakura could see, even as he hides it, how exhausted he is.

This is not a man who has any hope left to hold on too.

Her eyes catch his. "It can't hurt to try."

After a weighed moment, Shamal sighs dramatically and long. "Sure. Why not?"

He pops open a capsule containing one of his infamous mosquitos, and she follows it as it unlocks one of his briefcases. He shrugs at her attention. "Hayato is a nosy punk." Sakura grudgingly smiles at that, remembering the day he broke into her Student Council room to complete her paperwork. He slides the briefcase across his fancy hotel table and she digs in to find it full of his notes, current research and his latest theories. She thought his demeanour was of a man who has long given up, but his methodology says otherwise. All the information is kept current.

She may not respect him as a person, but she could respect this.

She dives into the work like a woman possessed.

Later on, Sakura blinks away her complete focus. Glancing at the sky outside and then her phone, she finds that it is already three a.m. Considering she wakes at five to fit in Reborn's hellish morning run, shower, breakfast and then Student Council work, she needs to head back immediately. She glances down at her notes that thankfully she did not automatically write in her personal code—'you can never be too careful,' Tsunade says—deciding to leave it here so Hayato does not accidentally stumble on it. It's covered with her own notes and theories and background information Shamal and Reborn occasionally needed to explain to her. She's not an expert on flames yet, but she has the experience healing and that could be applied interdisciplinary.

"I need to go," she says.

"I'll have more information tonight," Shamal says. Sakura sees him rise from his own research focus on the chair across from hers. He's reading one of her note pages and another research paper. She wonders what connections he makes in his head.

"So soon?" she asks, caught in a yawn. It's been a long day.

"I'll pull a few strings."

She nods, blinking tears away. Without saying anything, Reborn takes her home, and besides a hard wake up, the day goes like normal.

...

...


1. Sorry this took so long. I'm a perfectionist you see. I know it's mostly filler build-up but it also signals an important departure from canon. I am glad you guys are so patient & I wish you the best. That said, next chap is a doozy (to write & feelings-wise). No promises it'll be out on time.

2. Am I ignoring the Takeshi problem? No. Sakura is. It's more in character to build it up until she can't ignore it anymore because ppl procrastinate/avoid. Also have some priority, Hayato is literally dying. If all goes to plan, wait for chap 26

3. Don't you hate in Middle School how you have to clench fist solve your friend's incurable illness? (Sorry I was digging through khr tumblr)

4. Damn, you know what give me some competent Shamal. He is too easy to write. Literally, everybody else is harder. Tho in this one he has little screen time despite the title. Plus, its also the only time it would be in character to write a seduction/sexy scene—All due to your least favourite pervert mosquito doctor. The last scene (& Dame-Sakura) are among first scenes written

5. Nana implores Reborn to sleep elsewhere so she could nurse Sakura to health (also worrying he'll fall sick). Reborn says no, saying its his duty as her home tutor. So considerate, Nana coos. In the background, Sakura groans

6. Since I accidently gave Lee a promise of a lifetime, I had to reword Naruto's differently but it's the same gist.

7. Reborn is stuck between hyping up his fellow Arcobaleno & tearing down his lackey. In the end, cold hard facts win. He's technically not the strongest cloud user as he's not a fighter. Spoilers: Martial Artist Fon & Stuntman Skull has the best internal flame control among the Arcobaleno, due to their extra fine body control.

8. If I confuse you with my flame lore logic, welp join the club. It isn't written with the best clarity but sometimes you just gotta write bad to write at all. Also, earlier plan was one plain water but then Sakura could cheat with her Intuition so. Is there that many colourless, smelless poisons? I don't know it's fiction. Sakura was so proud that she found the answer that she forgot that drinking poison is Bad