Hello! This is my first Naruto fic (first Fanfiction ever, really), so I hope you enjoy it! Story starts midway through the final Sasuke-Itachi battle (Anime episodes: 134-143, Manga chapters: 384-412) and there will be spoilers for future episodes throughout.

Have a good read!

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

~ More Than Meets The Eye ~

Life…

Death…

His younger brother lunged at him.

The crackling flares of Chidori illuminated the depths of hatred in the boy's blood-red eyes. Another futile blink to clear his vision and Itachi was dodging - a delayed defence in frail hopes to draw his brother's face just a little closer to his line of sight. Time came to a standstill as he squinted in his efforts to see him. It would seem that, even up close, his eyes were unable to sharpen the matured lines of Sasuke's face.

Itachi welcomed the flashback of the first time he'd laid eyes on him.

A tiny bundle of innocence. Of helpless life.

Life…

His otouto had been his hope. The one who'd given him purpose when all seemed lost. His need to protect Sasuke's defenceless life had entirely overshadowed Itachi's struggles with his own questionable existence.

He could tell that his brother had grown immensely, even without having to rely on his sight. Sensing Sasuke's frustration surge over his fury, he let his brother swing his signature move again, giving him another chance at close combat while trying to gratify his own desire to capture an image of the boy in front of him.

As foolish as it was with his life so close to ending, he had an inexplicable urge to see his brother one last time - to feel proud of him as an older brother would, if nothing but for having grown into a strong young man. Despite his disapproval of some of the choices his otouto had made, he was proud of the determination Sasuke had shown all these years. And now, finally, Itachi was more than willing to accept death at his hands.

He doubled over in a brief lapse of self-control. Fluid dribbled from his lips as heaving lungs expelled crimson into his awaiting hands.

Truthfully, it was quite ironic, and if he were a different man, he may have laughed out loud at fate's sheer mockery. Itachi had found reason to live with his brother's birth and had ensured Sasuke's survival through the massacre, only to orchestrate his own demise at the hands of the very same brother. He was only too happy that this flawed cycle would meet its end.

Death…

It came as no surprise that he didn't fear the impending end to his life. He felt only acceptance and, funny enough, peace as his brother's killing intent intensified. He let his mind wander back to better times – not so much for himself, but for Sasuke - when the little boy had regarded his niisan with nothing short of admiration and utmost loyalty, so oblivious to the ways of a cruel clan. For the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing there'd been another way - another life worthy of his loving little brother. Kami knew Sasuke hadn't deserved any of this.

Fooling Sasuke, to pretend to seek his eyes for himself, had been all too easy. He hoped it would push his otouto to speed things along. The added damage to his body from the strain of the battle only amplified his pain, intensifying his desire to just succumb to darkness already. At this rate, his minimal efforts to block Sasuke's attacks as well as quickly depleting his chakra reserves would surely ensure that his body shut down at the end of this battle.

He felt only satisfaction as his Susanoo tore away at the snake sannin who'd latched himself onto his precious brother like a parasite. A sense of relief washed over him just as his body faltered. This was it - he could feel it.

He began his final steps toward his brother, kept from dropping to his knees by sheer willpower. He feebly wished for rain - just in case his body betrayed him and let fall stray tears in its final moments.

His brother stood frozen and staring back at him.

Itachi's hand trembled as it rose, reaching for him. A smile tugged at his lips as he readied himself to say goodbye.

Sasuke…

'Sorry Sasuke, maybe next time.'

'Another time, Sasuke.'

'Not now, Sasuke, maybe some other time.'

Two fingers nudged the boy's forehead in an affectionate tap; he could no more read his brother's reaction than he could see him.

Itachi smiled. "Sorry, Sasuke… There won't be a next time."

Darkness closed in around him, and his consciousness slipped away, granting him his long-awaited peace.

I love you, my dear little brother.

Sasuke remained entirely paralyzed as he watched his brother stumble, fall, and rest unmoving on the stone-cold ground.

Time stood still for a brief moment that, to him, felt like an eternity.

And then came the waves of tormenting disbelief; they swept in, unyielding, pulling him under and swallowing him whole. His body spasmed and air burst from his lungs in short, sporadic spurts. His pounding heart was the only indication that this was indeed reality.

It was a long time before he took note of the trails that streaked his face, but coherency was a distant concept and he could only detachedly wonder the implications of the wet tracks. Soon enough – within seconds, minutes, or hours – fresh streams followed, and he distantly registered that it was raining.

Rain…

It made him restless. The pestering drops pounded his skin, smothering him in feather-light caresses of false comfort, setting his highly strung nerves further on edge.

A flood of exhaustion slammed into him then, draining the last of his energy reserves as the strain of the battle caught up to his body. He could do little more than grunt as he fell, sprawling beside his brother's dead body. Sasuke's mind reeled, unable to process the words dead and his brother in the same sentence, before conscious thought hit a blank and he remembered no more.

There was a shift in the air just as awareness was lost to the younger Uchiha. A figure materialized, seemingly out of nothing, in the eerily silent clearing. The man, clad in a cloak and sporting an orange mask that hid all but his right eye, absorbed the scene that greeted him with detached interest. He approached the elder brother, taking a moment to look down at the fallen Uchiha prodigy, before swiftly reaching for the body and disappearing.

He re-emerged into an unlit backdrop inside four enclosed walls and laid him down. He only had minutes if he wished to delay a permanent death.

His fingers blurred through the jutsu - one of the parting gifts his late ancestor had bestowed on him just before his self-delayed demise. With the last of the signs, his hand descended on the Uchiha's chest.

A drawn-out moment followed, before a deep hum thrummed over the silence, originating from the still heart. It ended with an almost abrupt, faint clenching of the organ. A few seconds, and it repeated.

The man retracted, somewhat satisfied yet still unhappy with the result. The heart was beating, but insufficiently so – too slowly and too weakly. At this rate, any minor disturbance was bound to lead to its irreversible shutdown.

Damn you Itachi…

His gaze traced over the still figure. How many times had this Uchiha defied him and caused more problems and headaches than he was worth? It seemed that, once again, the genius had deceived him.

Itachi had hidden the severity of his illness. This meant, of course, that the jutsu was inadequate.

He swallowed a growl of annoyance, barely refraining from reversing the jutsu and leaving him for dead. He needed Itachi stable enough to extract his memories, or else the body would resign long before he'd had a chance to gather what he needed.

He took a calming breath, reining in his anger. Time was running short; he had to tend to the younger Uchiha before Konoha reached their precious missing-nin.

The ensuing minutes saw the man reappear by the said boy's side, eyeing his rain drenched figure amid fumes from the smouldering flames. Again he vanished from view, this time with the younger brother.

She stood beside her teammate as they faced the aching, inevitable truth yet again.

Sasuke. Gone. As always, gone. Slipped through their fingers like smoke.

A mournful silence had settled over the remains of the Uchiha hideout, disturbed solely by a wailing wind and the patters of unrelenting rain. It was oddly soothing, as though the skies were weeping for their pain. She clenched her numb fingers into fists, willing strength to her resolve and feeling into her limbs. She'd vowed to be Naruto's rock the next time this happened - unwavering and reliable. Someone he could lean on. He'd gone to such great lengths for her when it came to their third teammate, and she had to be there for him this time around. After all, he was hurting just as much as her, if not more.

She gritted her teeth, ignoring the chilling cold seeping through her drenched clothes, and risked a glance at her teammate. He was unreadable, and seeing him like this cast ripples of pain anew on her suffering psyche. Her trembling fingers seized his hand, squeezing and relaying a meaning no word ever could in that moment.

"We're not giving up," their sensei announced, as though on cue. His gaze flickered between his two remaining students. "Not yet."

The despondent gleam in his eye betrayed the confidence in Kakashi's voice. She gazed at him grimly, watching his attempts to shove all emotion beneath the flimsy mask he always donned - both literally and figuratively - as he faced the members of Team 8, Sai, Yamato, and his old students. His lone eye settled on her, meeting her gaze squarely - recognition, understanding and assurance all in one - as he said, "We'll search for him until no traces remain. No matter how long it takes."

Naruto returned her firm grip, seemingly drawing strength from her frozen fingers. His hand felt so warm around hers that she couldn't help but feel gratified. She turned her gaze back to the boy she'd come to call her brother; his face had hardened with resolve, and as always, the untiring determination in his eye was enough to take her breath away.

Sakura accepted then that, despite her best efforts, he would remain as their source of strength simply because he was Naruto and that was just who he was.

She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with stray fumes and wafts of wet-forest, and replaced her anguish with equal parts determination, giving a single, firm nod.

It was time to focus on the task at hand.

He considered the half-dead Uchiha Itachi before him with what would seem as utter indifference. In truth, his displeasure was barely under restraint.

Unfortunately, there were no changes to his weak heartbeat. It seemed that a slight change in strategy was necessary if he wished to succeed in this phase of his plans. He'd been so patient with the Uchiha, surely a new course of action was a possibility at this time.

He had to admire the Uchiha prodigy; he'd planned everything on his side remarkably well over the years. Itachi had known precisely how to drive his brother's frantic need for revenge, and he had delivered his acts flawlessly - and as reward, he'd finally been granted his long-awaited demise at his idiotic brother's hands.

'How…noble.' His face twisted in disdain, conveying his real thoughts over such heroics.

The genius would have been successful too. Unfortunately for Itachi, he'd had to put a stop to it.

For the longest time, he'd sought a solution to his problem that didn't involve Uchiha Itachi. His death would have worked to his advantage, sparing him the effort of dealing with the prodigy himself. After all, there was no denying that Itachi was exceedingly powerful and could very well pose a dangerous threat to his plans – even in his state of illness. Although, now having witnessed its severity, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd have stood a chance at defeating Itachi himself without having had to wait for Sasuke...

Speaking of.

Uchiha Sasuke. How predictable.

His conversation with the boy had gone quite as expected, minus the little surprise Itachi had arranged at his expense. Sasuke had denied everything, of course. He supposed it must have been difficult to swallow; reality as the boy knew it had collapsed around him.

It'd required some convincing on his part, but the boy had finally come around. He simply needed time, maybe a nudge in the right direction, and Sasuke would be right where he wanted him. It was a shame he couldn't provide the boy with Itachi's eyes just yet, but the time for that would surely come once he finished his business with the elder Uchiha.

It was frustrating, really. He was so close to his goal - one he'd been chasing since even before the massacre. At long last, the answers he needed were barely a few feet away, in the brilliant mind before him. All he had to do was stabilize the body long enough for it to withstand the assault of his Sharingan. He couldn't afford to have him die midway through. After he was through with the man, Itachi was free to die as he wished. In fact, he'd be pleased to offer his own services for the job.

His mind began to wander as he weighed the options available to him. He needed a medic-nin, that much was clear. But he had no time to waste with inadequate skill. No - he needed someone capable, efficient.

Tsunade was, of course, the very best at medical ninjutsu, but it would be more than problematic to attempt to abduct the Hokage.

The next best, then.

Really, the perfect candidate was right under his nose. In fact she had been, quite literally, just prior to the end of the Uchiha brothers' final battle.

He knew little about Haruno Sakura. She was the third member of Kakashi's former team, alongside Sasuke and the Kyuubi vessel, and happened to be the Godaime's apprentice. She'd caught his eye when she'd helped defeat Sasori, but despite this, he didn't expect much trouble from her.

Fortunately, she was currently nowhere near the safe haven of her village. It would be all too easy to get to her.

Satisfied, he spared one last glance at the body before slowly vanishing from view, taking with him the sole source of light in the room: the bright, crimson gleam of a Sharingan.

She crouched on the balls of her feet, mindlessly twirlingly a kunai around her index finger. A tentative sigh escaped her lips. She was growing more restless with every passing second - every second they came away empty-handed.

They'd just finished setting up camp for a few hours of much-needed rest. She knew she ought to feel exhausted after their near non-stop search for their missing teammate, but it seemed as though her body was on an endless supply of adrenaline. It had now been four days; she'd barely gotten six hours of less-than-adequate sleep since the start of their search, and now observing her agitated teammate as he paced along the clearing, she was positive he'd gotten close to none.

The rest of their group were visibly drained. Hinata had succumbed to sleep the instant her head had grazed Shino's shoulder. Said boy was seated against a tree, his eyes shielded by his glasses. Sai was lounging on a branch, his customary notebook draped over his face, and Yamato sat cross-legged by the fire, gaze lost to flames licking at charred wood. Kakashi, Kiba and Akamaru were the sole absentees, yet to return from their latest patrol to locate what little trace remained of Sasuke.

She was so lost in thought that she jerked, startled, when her teammate lowered himself in front of her, catching her gaze with solemn eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. It was an alien expression for his features. Unheeding fingers reached and intercepted the twirling kunai, removing it from her grasp. He inspected the weapon idly, drawing a clean line of red when it grazed his thumb.

"You'd think it'd get easier to say this, but," he began, his husky voice even rougher sounding, and turned his head like he couldn't meet her eyes, "I'm sorry, Sakura-chan."

Sakura studied his side profile, noting the tense jaw, the downturned lips, and the crease over his left eyebrow. She reached for his hand and held his bleeding finger between two of her own, gently rubbing over the skin to wipe the maroon droplets after sending a quick pulse of her healing chakra.

"You should know better than to keep apologizing to me, ne Naruto?"

Her playful lilt did nothing to hide the earnest meaning behind her words. He should have known better after all these years; they'd had this conversation a countless number of times, and not unlike those times, he simply wouldn't stop apologizing - and naturally, she wouldn't cease asking him to stop.

She sighed, and the simple act helped ease the tension in her constricted chest. "It was years ago that I begged you to bring him back for me. We both know it was a foolish request on my part." She tilted her head in an effort to draw his eyes. "The weak girl who dumped this burden on your shoulders is no more, Naruto."

The wrinkles across his brow grew more pronounced as he turned back to her, and she caught sparks of grief within the depthless blue of his gaze. "I know you're not weak Sakura-chan," he said, "but I made you a promise. If anything, I made myself a promise." His ocean eyes pierced into her emeralds in earnest. "You were my Sakura-chan - still, you're my Sakura-chan - and I don't go back on my word. Especially not to you."

He paused. All the fight seemed to drain out of him. "I know we can bring him back together, but…" His fists clenched over his knees. "I can't help but feel responsible for the bastard leaving," he murmured in a tone that was so foreign in its maturity and severity. "I couldn't show him that choosing loneliness was a mistake. I've been in his place Sakura-chan, and I need his stubborn ass to see that he doesn't need to push people away." He stared at an indiscernible point over her shoulder, mind lost to memories that triggered his raging thoughts.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. All Sakura could do was offer him a smile she kept reserved just for him. There was nothing more to be said. She reached for his forehead and pulled at the disturbing crease between his brows, smoothening it with a light stroke of her fingertips. His eyes flicked back to her glassy orbs, and she was rewarded with a muted version of his trademarked foxy grin. She returned it with a sigh, reaching to coax her fingers through his disheveled mane with idle motherly affection. He'd need another haircut soon. It was remarkable, how much he'd grown...

Physically, of course, was unquestionably evident. He easily towered over her now; gone were the childish hues, irrevocably replaced by sharp, mature lines. The faint golden stubble on his chin – frequently omitted of a trim on account of his negligence – was a constant reminder of this fact. Sometimes she had to do a double take when she looked his way and didn't see the short, annoying kid he used to be in her eyes. The changes weren't solely physical, however.

The luminous depths of his ocean eyes, reminiscent of a sun at its maturest days, now reflected wisdom that came only with age, keeping his share of tribulations on hidden display. Despite this, his unrelentingly childish ways were yet to be discontinued, much to her dismay at times. His happiness-radiating ambiance was ever-present, persistently honing the impressions he left on those whose lives he touched. One had to be among the few who truly knew him to spot the remnants of heartache that lingered behind his eyes.

They had grown very close – much closer than she'd ever thought possible when they were twelve. It'd been a gradual friendship that'd sparked over mutual hardships. Naruto's absence during his training with Jiraiya-sama had only favored their cause; they'd had time to reflect throughout their time apart and had both matured in their distinctive ways. And upon their reunion, the connection had been all the stronger. She based it on the fact that they'd simply shared too much together.

The moment was interrupted with the arrival of the rest of their team. Kiba got comfortable immediately, plopping himself down against Akamaru to get some much needed sleep. Kakashi peered in their direction, aware of the nature of their conversation. They turned to him expectantly, wordlessly searching his eyes for news. His sole response, much to their dismay, was a faint shake of his head.

Left with nothing more to say, Sakura rose from her crouch and climbed the towering foliage to settle down for her night shift. The persistent clouds of the past four days had cleared, leaving the moon to hang unobstructed. It wasn't quite a full moon, but it was close enough. The mystical glow caressed the forest, reaching far beyond what was visible to the human eye. Basking in its rays brought a small smile to her lips; it was breathtaking.

Unhindered thoughts carried her to Sasuke. Where was he now? Was he happy? Had his revenge granted him all that he'd hoped for? Was he injured from the battle? And why was he not here, given that his goal was now complete?

It was to be expected that she was mulling over him, she supposed; after all, he was their target. And yet, she reckoned it was worth coming to terms with the fact that perhaps she no longer saw the boy in the same light. He still stole over her thoughts of course, but gradually, the instances had started to occur less and less. Maybe time had done its wonders, or maybe she'd just been too occupied over the past few years to keep him in her thoughts. Her shishou had certainly seen to that.

Training under Tsunade had been – and still was – the most challenging phase of her life thus far. The woman always pushed her to her absolute limits. Sakura had believed on several occasions that she would likely die from overexertion - or if not, worse, fail. On any given night Sakura barely made it home to her bed, often finding herself succumb to sleep at the hospital in favour of the additional minutes of rest that'd be lost to travel time. Nevertheless, time had seen her adjust to this new life. Not because it grew less demanding - it got more challenging, in fact – but perhaps because she'd grown accustomed to the unforgiving ways of her shishou, refusing to condone failure whilst meeting her expectations.

It was clear to her that she would always care for Sasuke. He'd been an integral part of her life. If anything, she had him to thank for her persistent resolve to grow stronger - initially a feeble excuse to assist Naruto in his attempts to bring him back. And for that, and for the sake of the countless memories they'd shared, Sasuke would always hold a special place in her heart. But at times, Sakura found herself questioning what she'd ever seen in the boy given his cold demeanor. He'd certainly changed a whole lot from the little seven year-old boy she'd admired from afar, or the brave twelve year-old genin who would have given his life to protect his teammates. Near the end of their time as Team 7, Sasuke had done little to earn her unwavering love and devotion. Either way, she'd have to wait for their next encounter to reassess her feelings.

A sharp, muffled hiss suspended her musings, snapping her to attention. A wheezing came next, and she was granted a split second warning before she felt more than she saw an arm reaching out for her from the darkness of the canopy. With no amount of thinking, she flung herself off the edge of her branch, twisting mid-air to hurl two kunai in the direction of the assault. The weapons whipped down their trajectory before inexplicably growing silent without an indication of having found a target. Her eyes narrowed as she began a free-fall, pumping chakra to the soles of her feet to greet the fast-approaching ground. She landed in the middle of their camp, prompting a deep rumble from the earth.

Vaguely she registered the rest of her team - on their feet and ready to handle the disturbance. Strangely enough, she no longer sensed the intruder. At all. It was as if they'd vanished.

"Hinata."

On Kakashi's cue, the Byakugan wielder began scanning their surroundings. The veins around her eyes wrinkled. "I don't see anyone…"

The words had barely left her lips when Sakura's senses prickled. The hissing returned - it was like air itself was being sucked out of their surroundings - and the subject of their apprehension materialized within their sights, perched on a branch and silently surveying their group.

The Konoha-nin visibly tensed in recognition when they saw the man who'd intercepted their team only days ago - Tobi was his name. He looked the same; an orange mask shielded his face from view while the cloud-patterned Akatsuki cloak rippled at his feet.

Sakura registered the near-indiscernible twitch to Kakashi's foot, aware of the Sharingan blazing on his left eye as he strategized. This "Tobi" ought to have been at a disadvantage by their sheer numbers, but she wasn't heedless of their state of exhaustion. Considering this and unwilling to fool herself into optimism, she realized dimly that they may just be fucked. She could hardly delude herself into thinking that he may be here for another casual chat. She surmised, with a sinking feeling, that this time, she had a pretty good idea of his point of interest. Said interest stood to her right, visibly taut and more than ready to pounce.

Well - if Tobi wanted her friend, he would have to go through her first.

Just as she took a measured step to obstruct the man's path to Naruto, their target seemingly vanished once again. Sakura's muscles hadn't even tensed in preparation when he began to reemerge right in front of her, reaching with a swift arm not unlike a few seconds ago.

Startled, all Sakura had the sense to do was gauge the man's proximity to Naruto at his new positioning, and she reacted at lightning speed; with no amount of thinking, she flung herself at her teammate to shove him out of harm's way.

The raucous uproar of the next split second was deafening, crippling, and simultaneous: the wheezing and whistling of Sai's barrage of kunai as they whipped toward the target, Kakashi's mutter of a jutsu with the last of his hand signs, the astounding crack of splintering wood courtesy of Yamato, and Akamaru's growl tearing over the commotion.

She hadn't yet held her breath in anticipation of the chaos when her bearings began to spin out of control in the same instant that a hand seized her left shoulder. The last image she registered was that of Naruto frozen in shock, his lips parted mid-yell and features twisted in bewilderment, before she found herself crushed under an unworldly mass that pulverized her senses. Submerged in an airless vicinity of pitch-black nothing, of deafening silence. The suffocating pressure forced every last drop of oxygen from her lungs.

It was gone as quickly as it'd begun, leaving dizzying nausea in its wake. She released a throaty gasp, gulping her demand of air as though she'd broken surface in a current, and collapsed on the stone-cold ground in the all-consuming darkness.

Once her gasps had diminished to coughs, she heaved herself to her feet and shifted to a defensive stance, frantic gaze darting around in the dark.

Where was she?

A dim lantern came to life on a far wall, holding a single flame that did little to provide sufficient lighting. She blinked against the assault on her sensitive eyes before quickly surveying the room to find no impending threats.

What she found, instead, was much worse.

Sakura stood, rooted to the spot, and fixed her wide eyes on the still figure just a few steps away. The blood froze in her veins.

The body was visibly unconscious – could have been a corpse for the insufficient rise to its chest – but what instigated her hammering heart was the flicker of a light that rippled across his face before burying him in shadows once more. A dread like no other sunk into her gut, and Sakura found herself terrified to assess his condition.

It was with trembling limbs that she lowered herself beside him, just as another glimmer coasted along his features, allowing her a closer look. And suddenly, Sakura was back against the wall, reeling, scrambling, clinging for dear life. A choked scream died in her throat. Her heels slipped in her haste to distance herself, and her nails dug into cement hard enough to draw blood. Her fading nausea resurfaced with a vengeance, wrenching her insides and threatening to dispel the contents of her empty stomach.

She fought desperately to avert her eyes, but it seemed they couldn't be torn from him. His features held her gaze in an iron grip; Sakura was a prey, taken by the terror of having her predator at such close proximity. She feebly berated herself for mistaking the man's identity. Despite certain similarities, it would be hard to miss the familiar face of her old teammate. And this man was certainly not Sasuke.

It was Uchiha Itachi.

She'd seen him only once before, when her team had faced him in battle on their way to find Gaara. His features had been the least of her concerns, as she'd been too busy avoiding them on account of his eyes. She was happy to say that she hadn't been overly acquainted with him - likely one of the reasons why she'd lived to tell the tale.

He was alive? How was that possible? The Akatsuki had announced the battle's outcome only days ago - Sasuke had killed Itachi. She'd been there with the rest of her team to hear it for herself. And yet, given the weak heartbeat that thrummed over the silence, she didn't have to be a medic-nin to ascertain that he was alive – albeit barely, it seemed.

Swallowing thickly, Sakura stepped away from the wall, willing herself to keep composed. There was no need to be afraid; the Uchiha was no threat in his current condition.

She faltered. What should she do? Should she kill him? It'd be all too easy - a swift flick to his chest and the struggling heart would give out. Did Sasuke know that his brother lived? Would he be angry with her if she was the one to kill him? And what if Sasuke was also on the brink of death? As she continued to debate with herself, Sakura became increasingly aware of the fact that she had no idea where she was or why she'd been brought here. It'd almost been a full minute, and her abnormal solitude was concerning to say the least.

And then the familiar hiss was back, as if on cue.

Bracing herself, Sakura spun toward the sound, ready to pounce.

Tobi materialized, seemingly out of thin air, and sauntered up to the body. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to kill him."

Sakura reeled, and the back of her heel met resistance. "Why am I here?" she demanded, fisting her leathered hands at her sides. She wouldn't let him see her irresolution, but she was struggling to justify her predicament. The Akatsuki was after Naruto, not her.

Unless… Unless she was to be used as bait.

Her blood ran cold with the realization that Naruto would no doubt chase after the Akatsuki to find her.

The man's attention remained on the Uchiha, regarding the body with obvious disdain - he was yet to spare her a glance. A bone-chilling aura descended over the modest room, drawing goosebumps along her bare limbs. His air of nonchalance made him seem almost...bored, as though he were having to do chores before playtime.

Then suddenly, she became the abrupt focus of his scrutiny, and his single visible eye - his all-too-familiar crimson eye - caught her emerald orbs in a vice-like grip.

It was her frozen limbs and the remnants of her fast-depleting resolve that kept her from falling to her knees in utter terror. She stared, disbelievingly, hopelessly, into the depthless void of his Sharingan.

"You will heal Uchiha Itachi."