The minute hand of the clock seemed to move five times slower than usual. Sakura checked it for the hundredth time, then sighed and turned back to the file that she'd been reading. Technically, she had the day off unless there was an emergency, but the image of Yamato from the previous night made it impossible to rest. Sakura had been at her desk since dawn to work through the backlog of files that covered it. By the time the pile dwindled to a manageable amount, lunch had come and gone.
Sakura had left the Anbu evaluations in her bag until she'd decided how to handle them. She'd reconciled herself to delivering the results and the information that she'd discovered last night to Kakashi. Yamato was in no condition to be taking missions, much less leading Anbu level ones. In his current state, that man would be a liability at best and a tragedy at worst. While many shinobi were functional drinkers, Yamato added another level of complexity to that idea. Sakura suspected that his alcohol usage only scratched the surface of things that he needed to deal with.
Putting away another file, Sakura looked around her office. This was the first time that she'd been completely caught up on her paperwork since taking over Tsunade's position. Her desk looked strange without the stacks of paper cluttering the space. After moving the keyboard around, Sakura's gaze drifted back to the clock. There was still half an hour until the deadline. Sakura could go over the report one more time to check that she was ready to present it, but she knew the information backward and forward by now.
A knock pulled Sakura's attention away from the clock, and her stomach tightened in anticipation of who might be on the other side. "Come in," she called.
A sick taste rose in Sakura's throat when the door opened to reveal Yamato. He wore the standard navy jonin uniform; it brought up memories of a time before all of this chaos, but Sakura pushed that away. She couldn't be swayed by the past or the blush that covered Yamato's cheeks. His dark brown eyes were rimmed in red from the lack of sleep and alcohol, but it was an improvement over yesterday. Sakura felt a wash of relief and anger at the sight, but neither emotion was strong enough to cancel the other.
Sakura took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I didn't think you'd come."
"Me either." Yamato stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him. He rubbed the back of the neck and looked around for something to rest his eyes on. They settled a few inches above Sakura's head, and she nodded toward a chair on the opposite side of her desk.
Yamato sank into the cushions and shifted from side to side to find a more comfortable position. Sakura watched him in silence. His posture was reminiscent of Naruto just before the boy got a stern lecture from Iruka-sensei at the academy. The comparison nearly made Sakura laugh, but she held it back and nodded toward his arm. "How's the hand?"
"Sore." Yamato raised his fist and flexed his fingers as much as the bandages would allow. "But, I suppose that was the point."
Humming in agreement, Sakura nodded. Part of her wanted to push Yamato to explain the previous night in more detail, but she didn't. Yamato frowned and smoothed his pants across his knee, then adjusted the fall of his sleeve over the bandage. When Sakura didn't continue the conversion, he sighed. "I'm sorry; I drank too much."
Sakura crossed her arms over her chest. "That's an understatement. You could barely stand up."
Yamato's sheepish smile made him look five years younger, more like the man that Sakura remembered. "Kakashi always said I couldn't hold my alcohol."
The joke fell flat when Sakura didn't laugh. There was nothing amusing about the situation that they'd found themselves in. "Why?"
Yamato's chuckle sounded forced. "Probably because of things like last night. I get clumsy and sleepy when I've been drinking. He used to tease me about it in Anbu. In fact, he probably would have found the whole situation hilarious."
Crossing one leg over the other, Sakura tapped her foot in the air and fought to keep her temper under control. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she responded. "You know that isn't what I meant."
Yamato pushed to his feet and paced in front of Sakura's desk for two circuits, then shrugged without meeting her gaze. Fury boiled through her veins at the lack of response. "You don't know? You weren't just a little drunk. You were 'I can't stand up or function, blackout drunk'. What happened to the strict, 'always follow the rules' leader that you used to be? Or, was all of that an act too?"
The footsteps slowed, then paused as Yamato stopped to face Sakura. "My job was to make Kakashi's students trust me, and to keep them alive. I did it well." His eyes narrowed. "I will not apologize for hiding the fact that I was in Anbu. You had no reason to know."
"That has nothing to do with—"
Yamato rounded so quickly that Sakura shrank against her chair in a moment of instinctual fear. "Isn't it? You've been angry at me since you found out I was in Anbu. And now, you're trying to get me put on leave over nothing."
"Nothing," Sakura growled, exasperation sharpening her voice. She reached for her bag, pulled out the report that she'd wanted to discuss since yesterday, and threw it onto the desk. "The amount of stimulants in your system on the day of your physical were almost twice as high as the reading at the end of your last mission. And, I checked; you haven't been out of the village since. So, why was it there? Why were you drinking so heavily after taking them? Are you trying to kill yourself?"
Yamato glanced down at the papers spilling across the desk without answering. His jaw tightened, trapping he words inside. Shaking her head, Sakura gathered the report and folded her hands over it. "If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. I can get Kakashi up to speed, and we can—"
"No," Yamato interrupted before Sakura could finish her thought. "There's no need to get him involved with this."
Sakura frowned at the apprehension written in Yamato's posture. His shoulders tensed like he expected a blow, but she couldn't change the truth. "I have to recommend a temporary removal from duty, at least until you take care of whatever is going on."
Yamato pressed his fingers to the desk and leaned in to meet Sakura's gaze. She saw fear in his eyes as he exhaled hard through his nose. "I don't need to take care of anything. I'm not an alcoholic. I just, I couldn't sleep, and I needed something to take the edge off."
"You mean you needed something to take the edge off of the stimulants that you'd been taking?" Sakura fought to keep pity from her voice. This wasn't something that could be brushed under the rug, not anymore. She was determined to stand up for the mental health of Anbu, whether they wanted it or not.
"It's complicated." Yamato glanced down at his injured hand for a long moment, eyes going distant.
Sakura left the man to his thoughts. Drinking to forget a bad mission was something that she could understand. She'd seen things during the war that she wanted to leave behind. But, stimulant usage made no sense, especially when paired with alcohol. Sakura tucked the report back into her bag and shrugged. "If you won't talk to me about it, you need to get psych clearance from T&I to return to duty."
Nodding, Yamato pushed away from Sakura's desk. He seemed smaller than he had fifteen minutes ago, like some of the bluster had leached out. Sakura couldn't help but wonder if that was a good sign, or a bad one. "Fine," he agreed, voice soft enough to be a whisper. "I'll do that."
Surprise and relief flooded Sakura. She'd thought that it would be harder to convince Yamato to get help. "Do you want me to set up an appointment?"
"No, you've done enough already." Yamato managed another weak laugh that lacked any trace of humor, then nodded toward the door. "I guess there's no time like the present."
"I guess not," Sakura agreed, standing as Yamato moved further away. "I know it sounds miserable, but this really is for the best."
Yamato offered a tight smile and paused like he had something to say. Then, he shook his head and stepped out of the office.
In the silence of his apartment, Tenzo watched sunlight fade to shadow on the far wall. After leaving Sakura's office, he'd come home without bothering to stop by T&I. Nobody went there unless they had no other options. Tenzo would have to find another way to get the mission release that he needed. He could probably call in favors and have someone sign off on the paperwork. Surely someone at T&I owed him, or could be convinced that they did. Hell, Kakashi could override Sakura's recommendation if he wanted to. But, would he?
Tenzo wasn't sure. He'd thought that admitting to the drinking would sway Sakura, but It hadn't. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the alcohol from the previous night. Tenzo couldn't forget the look of pity on Sakura's face. That expression was one of the many reasons that he hadn't told anyone about his supposed problems before.
The other night, when Kakashi had stopped by to check on him, Tenzo had almost asked for help. For one aching moment, he'd believed that it was possible to put the demons behind him and move forward. But, it had been short lived. Tenzo hadn't been able to bear seeing the same expression on Kakashi's face, so he'd held his tongue.
The men had been through hell during their Anbu days; nobody survived black ops without a few scars. Kakashi had pulled Tenzo back from the edge multiple times, but he'd never personally cracked under the pressure. Kakashi faced the darkness with laughter, injuries and losses flowing off of him like water. When the weight grew too heavy, Kakashi kept himself going with alcohol and avoidance. He'd taught Tenzo to deal with mission fallout in the same ways.
Except none of those tricks worked this time, did they? Tenzo thought. He'd tried to throw himself into training, pushing his body until it was too exhausted to continue, but physical exertion hadn't helped any more than the alcohol had. Neither lasted more than a few hours. Even if he wanted something stronger, Tenzo and Saiyo had finished off the whiskey last night, and there was nothing else in the apartment.
Sighing, Tenzo pushed to his feet and paced across the living room. He didn't want to think about Kakashi or Anbu; he wanted to lose himself in the warm embrace of another bottle. It wasn't that he couldn't stop drinking, he just didn't want to. It eased his life by blunting the jagged edges that Anbu left behind. Those had only multiplied since he'd taken over as head of the division two years ago. He wasn't the only person in leadership who drank. At least half of Tsunade's tenure as Hokage had been spent inebriated.
Tenzo walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. The movement settled his nerves and released the tension that sat inside his chest He lowered himself onto a chair, careful of the ribs that he'd wrapped after waking up on the couch with shooting pain in the side of his neck from falling asleep at an awkward angle. For a moment, he'd wondered if the whole encounter with Sakura had been a dream. Then, as the buzz of alcohol wore off, Tenzo realized the full extent of his injuries.
When Sakura healed Tenzo's injured feet, she'd ignored the other damage to his body. Agony spread through his side whenever he shifted the ribs that Saiyo had kicked during their spar the previous night. His left arm was a mass of red skin from the fire that caught him by surprise, and the right was crisscrossed by cuts from the broken glass. Both throbbed in time with his too fast heart rate.
Tenzo breathed through his nose and forced the thundering beat to slow. The alcohol had helped with that, at least. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained half of the water. It sloshed over the edge when he set it on the table. After waking, Tenzo had cleaned up the broken bits of glass that Sakura had missed. It had been easy enough to create a new, glassless table with his mokuton jutsu, but the image was a constant reminder of his failure.
After drinking the rest of his water, Tenzo carried the cup back to the kitchen. He placed it in the sink, hands rattling the glass against the metal edge almost hard enough to crack the delicate material. Sighing, Tenzo left it there and made another circuit around the apartment to keep his mind and body busy. The shadows of evening faded past dusk to true night, darkness settling over the village like a heavy blanket. Once upon a time, Tenzo had feared the dark. He'd lived too many long days in the green filled haze of Orochimaru's lab to welcome it. Now, he saw the beauty and freedom that it offered. Nobody expected anything of him after night fell.
Tenzo stared down at his hands, willing them to be still. The fine tremble that worked through the digits was irritating, but not debilitating. Alcohol would make the shaking stop for a few minutes at least, long enough for him to stop caring about it. Licking his lips, Tenzo looked around the room that felt more like a cage than a home. A memory fluttered at the back of his mind, but he refused to look at it. His stomach clenched around the thought as air disappeared from the room. He dried to draw a breath, but it wouldn't come. Panic clawed its way up Tenzo's throat. The room spun.
Sagging against the wall, Tenzo squeezed his right hand into a fist. Pain erupted through his fingers, brilliant red lines that connected him to something besides the thoughts spiraling out of control. He sucked oxygen into his lungs, expanding them to the point of pain, then blowing it out in a long whoosh. Several inhales later and the fuzzy shadows at the edge of the room shifted back to solid lines and the irrational terror faded to panicked whispers in the back of Tenzo's mind.
Tenzo released the pressure in his hand and blew out another breath. He'd reopened his wounds, and fresh streaks of blood showed through the white gauze. The injury was embarrassing. What kind of elite soldier stumbled and fell into a glass table? He blamed it on Saiyo. If she'd put her vest away instead of discarding it on the way toward his bedroom, Tenzo wouldn't have fallen in the first place. Then, his secret would be safe.
Tenzo wondered what Sakura would write on the recommendation to Kakashi. Would she cite the drinking she'd recently discovered, or the soldier pill usage that she'd suspected? Tenzo was fairly certain that he could talk his way out of either problem, but not both at the same time. Passing the psych exam shouldn't be that difficult; he knew all the right things to say. Would that suffice? Sakura had trusted him enough to set up his own appointment, at least.
Small blessings, Tenzo thought as he turned away from the window. The apartment felt emptier without Saiyo's presence. She'd left not long after lunch, returning to the barracks or training. Tenzo hadn't asked, and she hadn't volunteered the information. Since Kakashi remained absent, Tenzo assumed that Sakura hadn't delivered the results yet. Once she did, one of Tenzo's best friends would be analyzing his every move and asking all the questions that he didn't want to answer.
"Fuck this," Tenzo grumbled to the silence. He didn't need counseling to fix his life any more than Saiyo had. He needed something strong enough to knock him out for a few hours so that he could put off processing things until he was ready. Nodding to himself, Tenzo selected a soft, grey hoodie from the hook beside the door and pulled it over his uniform. Camouflaged as a civilian, he stepped into the night.
As the cool air brushed across Tenzo's cheek, he drew a breath. It felt like the first that he'd taken in hours. Adjusting the hood of the sweatshirt so the shadows hid his face, Tenzo blended in with the men and women who walked down the street. With a plan in mind, his hands didn't shake as badly as they had been. Ignoring the burn of shame at the back of his throat, Tenzo walked toward the nearest bottle shop. He didn't have a problem; he could stop whenever he wanted to. He just didn't want to, not tonight.
As much as Sakura tried to ignore the nervousness gnawing in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't stop thinking about Yamato. She should have been more firm about setting up his appointment, she should have seen the warning signs earlier, and she should have taken the report to Kakashi. The latter bothered Sakura more than she cared to admit. She was nearing forty-eight hours past her deadline to discuss the Anbu evaluations. Kakashi hadn't asked, and Sakura couldn't bring herself to turn Yamato in.
Sakura knew that it was stupid; it was her duty to make sure that Yamato got the help that he needed. She'd started this crusade to save the soldiers of Anbu, but she hadn't realized that it would hit so close to home so quickly. Sakura kept replaying the look in Yamato's eyes when he said that he didn't want to involve Kakashi in his problems. There was history between the two men, but she didn't know what it was. It was more than having been on a team together in the past.
Not for the first time, Sakura considered pulling Yamato's file and scouring the details. It would be more for curiosity than need, however, so she didn't. Instead, she cut out of work early enough to stop by Torture and Interrogation before they closed for the day. Kazuko hadn't asked why Sakura was leaving early, but she told him that she had a personal errand to take care of. Let him think whatever he wanted; she'd put in more than enough hours on her day off to make up for any that she took now.
The Torture and Interrogation division was nestled in a corner of the village, partially for the safety of citizens and partially to keep their business a secret. Sakura had visited the building dozens of times when Sasuke was kept in one of the holding cells after the war. She'd fought tooth and nail to be allowed to visit the man. Tsunade and Kakashi both thought that the Uchiha might be dangerous, but Sakura and Naruto had worn them down in the end. She recalled the trepidation that crept down her spine whenever two grey uniformed jonin led her through the labyrinth of underground cells.
Shoving the memories away, Sakura took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Cheap plastic chairs and old magazines dotted the spartan waiting room. A wall separated the space from the rest of the building with a glass enclosed cubicle indicating the reception area. A young man sat behind the desk, comparing two reports in front of him while entering the data on the computer. When Sakura cleared her throat, he glanced up with an air of disinterest. "Do you have an appointment?"
Sakura's brow furrowed at the man's bored tone. "I didn't know I needed one."
"Well, what are you here for? Counseling? Mandatory evaluation? Crisis management?" The man rattled off his assumptions with an indifferent manner, not bothering to look at Sakura as he catalogued each struggle. "It's late. I can't promise that anyone can fit you into their schedule today."
Anger flared in Sakura's chest. After two days of stress and worry about the mental health of multiple Anbu, the dismissal infuriated her. She'd referred them here so that they could get the help they needed, not an easy task. To be ignored by a chunin who had probably never been out of the village on mission was unacceptable. Sakura's hand balled into a fist as she approached the desk. The slap of her palm against the counter made the papers jump. "Isn't it your job to help people?"
Brown eyes rose to Sakura's face, surprisingly unfazed by the outburst. The man consulted a calendar on the wall to his left then nodded. "The next anger management meeting is on Tuesday night at seven."
An involuntary growl ripped from Sakura's throat. She almost reached forward and grabbed the boy by the lapels of his uniform, but forced herself not to. Sakura hadn't come here to cause a scene; she'd known that change would come slowly. She fought to collect herself as a door opened deeper in the compound. "What was that," called a familiar voice.
The chunin popped to his feet and dropped into a bow. "Nothing, Yamanaka-san, just a disagreement in procedure. It's nothing that I can't handle."
Ino appeared behind the glass. Her eyes widened at finding Sakura on the opposite side of the reception desk; confusion pulled her lips into a frown. "Oh, hey Sakura. Did you need something?"
"Apparently, it doesn't matter if I did," Sakura spat, failing to contain her annoyance. "I'd need to wait until someone could fit me into their busy schedule to get help."
The bitterness left a sour taste on Sakura's tongue and a frown on Ino's lips. She knew that she should control her temper, but the image of Yamato drifting toward unconsciousness as his hand dripped blood across his leg had lodged itself in her mind. She'd promised him that he could come here, that someone would be there for him no matter what he was going through. If Sakura had found herself in Yamato's position and received the same reception, she would have fled without asking for help. Saiyo would do the same; they all would.
"Nonsense." A touch on Sakura's shoulder ripped her from her thoughts. She nearly pulled away in anger, but forced herself to exhale. Ino nodded as if she understood the struggle. "Come on. I have time."
The worried expression on Ino's face kept Sakura from walking away, but it was a near thing. If she hadn't needed information on Yamato and Saiyo, Sakura might have blown it off. But, the guilt that she felt for not pushing Yamato to talk about whatever was going on in his life was stronger than her anger at the chunin behind the desk. Sakura followed her friend deeper into Torture and Interrogation. Ino's uniform made her look older, more like an adult. No matter how many times Sakura had seen her in the soft grey, she couldn't get used to the color where purple had previously predominated.
Ino's office was nothing like Sakura expected. While she'd never visited when Inoichi held it, Sakura had imagined hard edges and shadows clinging to the walls. Ino's was the polar opposite. Late afternoon sunlight poured through an open window, bathing the room in delicate shades of gold. A spray of blue flowers sat in a vase on the center of the woman's desk, lending a floral scent to the air, and inked pictures of various plants decorated the pale walls.
Ino nodded toward a light blue couch in the corner. Sakura sat down, tucking one leg beneath her as she drew another calming breath and let it out to the count of five. Ino stopped at her desk to retrieve a notebook and pen before taking the armchair across from Sakura. The girl's blond hair was pulled away from her face in a bun that highlighted the sharp angles of her cheek bones. Sakura wondered if she looked as different when treating patients at the hospital or if the change in appearance was a special talent of Ino's.
"You know that your receptionist is inept, right," Sakura asked. She felt marginally better after venting her frustrations.
Ino chuckled and shook her head. "We mostly see criminals or enemy shinobi, so he doesn't exactly need to be welcoming."
Sakura frowned at the easy way in which Ino wrote off the man's unacceptable behavior. "You guys are supposed to be better than that though. I just referred two Anbu to T&I for help, and now I'm wondering if they'd be better off dealing with their issues alone."
The words wiped the smile from Ino's lips. "Which Anbu?"
"You know I can't tell you who they were," Sakura began. Then, she paused and wondered if that was true. She had referred Yamato and Saiyo for evaluation; it was possible, probable even, that Ino would be the one doing the assessments. How much did the woman know? "Hokage-sama asked me to complete physicals for all current Anbu. I included a mental component as well."
Ino didn't look as surprised as Sakura expected. In fact, she seemed annoyed. "You could have asked for help to set up the psychological portion of the exam, you know?"
The thought had crossed Sakura's mind multiple times, but she'd opted to keep the Anbu evaluations a secret. It seemed foolish now since Ino would likely be the person conducting the advanced screenings. Sakura raised one shoulder in a shrug. "I should have, but I wanted to protect their privacy as much as possible."
Ino hummed an agreement without answering. She moved back to her desk across the room and tapped a few keys on the computer. Wrinkling her nose, she studied the screen. "There's one new shinobi on the counseling schedule. It looks like a Mirkua-san has an appointment in two weeks."
"Two weeks," Sakura exploded, anger surging back to the surface so quickly that she almost leapt to her feet. "You'd keep a shinobi off missions for two weeks because you can't find the time to do their mental health checks? I evaluated an entire division in three days!"
Huffing, Ino crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you expect? Half of these appointments are no shows, and the rest parrot the answers they think we want to hear. I don't have the resources to do more."
"Yet," Sakura interrupted, recognizing her own frustration in Ino's words. "You don't have the resources yet. I don't either, but we're going to get them."
"You keep saying that, but I don't know if we can change things." Ino sighed and moved back to the chair across from Sakura. When she sat down, the distance between them seemed smaller than it had before. "We're working against years of stigma about mental health."
Sakura nodded. She'd never thought that changing things would be easy, only that it would be worthwhile. Her mind jumped back to her former teammates. Both Naruto and Sasuke had seen horrors that no one their ages should have, not to mention Kakashi and Yamato. If they hadn't lived through such darkness, would they be in the positions that they were now? Sakura supposed that everything worked out in the end, but she couldn't help but wonder if it could have been better.
"Was Miruka-san one of the Anbu you were looking for?" Ino's words were cool and disinterested, so much so that Sakura narrowed her eyes when she shook her head. "Who were they then? You obviously know them well enough to care."
"I care about all of the Anbu," Sakura answered. She chewed her lip, wondering if that was true. She wanted Saiyo to get help and work through whatever was going on in her life, but the image of Yamato was a stronger motivation for change. "I screwed up. I saw someone struggling, and I assumed that they'd get help on their own. I should have made them come."
Ino tutted and shook her head. "You know you can't make someone get help. They either do it on their own, or not at all."
Sakura knew that, she did, but she felt like if she pushed Yamato or Saiyo the right way, they'd understand that they needed to talk to someone. Of course, it hadn't worked with Sasuke when she tried. Ino smoothed the pale grey fabric across one thigh and scribbled something on the notepad that she'd opened. "Was Sai the other Anbu that you recommended to T&I?"
"No," Sakura paused, her mind finally catching up with the words. "Wait, how did you know that Sai was in Anbu?"
Ino rolled her eyes, but a telling blush covered her pale cheeks. Not one of the affected blushes that made men fall all over themselves, but an honest to kami blush that she couldn't hide. "It was rather obvious, don't you think?"
Sakura's mind spun through the options so quickly that she barely registered each step before arriving at the next. Her brain latched onto the most important one, however. "Oh my god, are you sleeping with him?"
The flush on Ino's cheek deepened to an alarming shade of red. "No. Why do you always jump to that conclusion? Sometimes I date men without having sex with them."
"Name one time that you've done that," Sakura countered with a laugh, the dark reason for her visit temporarily forgotten in light of her new discovery.
Ino rolled her eyes, foot tapping a staccato in the air. "Shikamaru."
"Hardly comparable. You've known Shikamaru forever and spent years together on a team. He's practically a brother." Sakura grinned at Ino's growing discomfort, recognizing it in the way that she shifted around in her chair. "So, how long have you been together?"
"We aren't together," Ino snapped, putting the cap back on her pen and setting it on the table beside her. "We've been out to dinner twice. It's hard with his schedule."
Before Sakura could stop herself, she burst into laughter at the unintended innuendo. Ino tried to keep a straight face, but she soon dissolved into giggles like they were preteens again. When the mirth faded, Ino wiped her eyes. "That is not how I meant."
"You meant that it was an actual date, not a few drinks and a roll in your bed?" Sakura's voice rose to a sticky sweetness that almost made her gag as she teased her friend. "Which means, you actually like him."
When Ino didn't snap at her, Sakura exhaled an expletive. "Shit, I did not see that coming." Ino's complexion had almost returned to its normal paleness, but there was a guarded, nervous look around her eyes. Understanding, Sakura shook her head. "No, Sai wasn't one of them."
Ino tried to hide her sigh of relief as she shrugged. "Then, I haven't seen anyone come in over the past few days. Do you want me to make some inquiries?"
Sakura shook her head. "No, I need to take care of this one myself."
Ino and Sakura spent the better part of two hours brainstorming the best way to implement better mental health care for shinobi. There were dozens of obstacles that they'd have to tackle to make it work, so they agreed to meet in an official capacity to get some ideas down on paper. Additionally, Sakura wanted to ask Kazuko how civilians dealt with the same problems before she finalized anything. If her plan already had the groundwork done, it would be that much easier to get Kakashi to put it into action.
Mind still spinning from the conversation with Ino, Sakura stopped by a sushi restaurant that she'd been meaning to try. Food in hand, she found a deserted corner booth and pulled out the notebook she kept in her bag. The conversation had raised several interesting points. Dozens of changes would need to be made at both the hospital and T&I to smooth the process, but at least Sakura had a list to develop. She and Ino were that much closer to making their plan a reality.
The food and time to reflect had solidified one thing in Sakura's mind: she needed to talk to Yamato again. She hadn't handled the situation as well as she should have. He needed help, and no matter what Ino said, Sakura couldn't let that go without trying one more time. The wellbeing of others was part of her job description, after all. If no one else cared enough to stand in the gap for him, she would do it herself.
The planning session with Ino and the sushi after had taken more time than Sakura realized. It had grown dark by the time she stepped back into the street. It was too late for her visit with Yamato to be considered dinner, but not so late that it would look indecent. While walking through the village, Sakura considered what she'd do if Saiyo was the one to answer the door. Anger rose with the thought, but she pushed aside; it was none of her business who Yamato chose to sleep with. Besides, if Saiyo was there, at least he wasn't alone.
Swallowing the apprehension, Sakura made her way to Yamato's apartment. The curtains were drawn again, but she didn't waste time second guessing herself. She knocked, mentally preparing for whomever opened the door. Rustling on the other side told her that someone was home, just not who it was. Several seconds passed. Sakura was on the point of knocking again when a crack of light spilled across her feet.
Yamato's hair stuck out in a dozen different directions, like he'd been combing through it with his fingers. He studied Sakura for a moment, then offered a lopsided smile and laugh. "I wasn't sure if it would be you or Kakashi."
"I haven't made my report yet," Sakura answered, frowning when Yamato invited her inside by waving the beer bottle in his hand.
"That's good; I have more evidence for you." Yamato's laughter had a frantic edge to it. Sakura slipped into the apartment and bent to remove her sandals, watching him from the corner of her eye. He closed the door and nodded toward the kitchen. "Want a beer?"
Sakura's acceptance surprised them both, but Yamato took it in stride. He walked to the fridge, bracing himself against the door while fumbling inside. Popping the top off a bottle, Yamato tossed it next to the six or seven already on the counter then held it out to Sakura. She nodded her thanks and turned back to the living room. The debris from the broken table had been removed, and a new one stood beside the couch. A damp ring from Yamato's drink marked the pale wood. A second bottle of clear liquid and a tiny white cup were on the opposite side, but Sakura didn't bother trying to read the label. She'd smelled the sake on Yamato's breath from the moment that he opened the door.
"Thanks," Sakura murmured, lifting the cold glass to her lips. Beer wasn't something that she usually enjoyed, but this was better than the watery liquid that she and Ino had snuck as genin. Or, maybe drinking gave her a way to fill the uncomfortable silence between them. She took a seat on the couch and rested the bottle on her knee. After a moment, she raised her gaze. "So, you didn't set up a counseling session."
Yamato's shoulders tensed as he perched on the opposite arm of the couch, appearing torn between running away and standing his ground. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug, but some of the levity had faded from his voice when he spoke. "And, you didn't go to Kakashi. Why?"
Because I wanted to believe that you wanted to get better, Sakura thought. Not wanting to say that, she bought time to think of another answer by taking a sip. It didn't help. "I don't know."
Snorting, Yamato raised his bottle in mock salute and took another long swallow. His eyes fluttered shut as he tipped the bottle to the ceiling, collecting the final drops of liquid. His injured hand rested on one knee while the other gripped the bottle tight enough to whiten his knuckles. Sympathy flooded Sakura's chest, and she reached out. Yamato startled at the touch, eyes snapping open. She nodded toward his hand. "May I heal you?"
"I thought you left it to teach me a lesson," Yamato countered, placing his bottle on the table. Despite the snippy remark, he slid onto the couch and offered his arm.
"Obviously, you didn't learn it," Sakura snorted. After putting her beer beside Yamato's, she scooted closer and took his hand in hers. Once she was finished unwinding the strips of fabric, Sakura laid the bandage aside and rested Yamato's hand across her legs. "I may have been a little angry at the time."
The muscles in Yamato's forearm tightened when Sakura's fingers brushed over his bare skin. For a moment, she recalled the ticklish nature that she'd discovered in his evaluation. It would have been nice to return to that innocence, to the naivety of what Yamato's life looked like before all hell broke loose. A pointless thing to wish for, so she ignored it. "Ready?"
At Yamato's nod, Sakura pressed her chakra against his. The wild, tumultuous fury of the other night had quieted to a dark pool that didn't fight the gentle insistence of healing. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the wounds that crisscrossed the man's arm and wrist. As she finished, another injury caught her attention. She frowned at the fractured rib on Yamato's side; that hadn't been there during his physical. Burns covered his left arm as well. Sakura encouraged blood flow into the tender skin, erasing the sting, then healed the fracture.
Sakura broke the link between herself and Yamato. It felt a bit like resurfacing while swimming. Her senses were sharpened after being muted for so long. Sakura took a moment to reorient herself. Yamato's hand flexed in her lap, drawing her gaze. The cuts and scabs had given way to thin, pink scars that were almost impossible to see unless you knew where to look. Sakura wished that healing his other pain was that easy.
When Yamato opened his fingers, his hand shook. He clasped them both together to hide the tremble, but Sakura saw it. She glanced down, surprised to see how close their knees were to touching. Yamato cleared his throat and turned to the side. As he did so, he must have noticed the lack of pain because his eyes widened. "Thank you."
"You cracked your ribs again," Sakura observed, tipping her head to study the man across from her. "Not to mention the burns on your arm. You should be more careful with your body."
Yamato chuckled and drew a deep breath, probably the first since his injuries. "Right, I'll be sure to tell Saiyo that."
Sakura blinked, then heat rushed into her cheeks as she tried to figure out how Saiyo had managed to break Yamato's ribs the other night. She decided that she'd rather not know. The casual mention of the woman left Sakura off balance. She tried to think of something witty or clever to say, but the words wouldn't come. Unaware, Yamato continued. "She's gotten a lot better over the past six months or so."
"I, um, that's good." Sakura's blush deepened until she felt the warmth radiating off her ears. She was surprised that Yamato spoke so freely about his exploits with teammates. Thankfully, the dozens of conversations that she'd had with Ino about this type of thing over the past few years made it less awkward, in theory anyway. "I wondered if she would be here tonight, actually."
"Just me, I'm afraid," Yamato answered. He reached for his beer and shook the bottle with a sigh. "Do you want another?"
Sakura shook her head and retrieved the bandages from the floor. She followed Yamato to the kitchen and found him by the open refrigerator. He eyed the remaining bottles, then closed the door. Sakura nodded toward the sink. "Maybe some water instead?"
The man glanced back to the living room and flashed a tight smile. "Something stronger?"
"You don't honestly expect me to say yes, do you?" Sakura tossed the bandages into the trash then turned the water on to wash her hands.
Yamato's snort could have been amusement or derision. He rested one hip against the counter as he watched Sakura. "I didn't expect you to take the beer either." His shoulders rose in a shrug. "And, you haven't told me why you stopped by, yet."
"I was worried about you." The truth came easier than Sakura expected. The alcohol had lowered some of Yamato's walls and made him more relatable. Or, maybe it was only wishful thinking. "You haven't been in a good place the last few times I saw you."
"You work at the hospital. It's pretty common for you to see people at their worst," Yamato joked as he pulled two glasses from the cabinet beside him.
Sakura accepted the second cup even though she still had half of her beer left. It seemed rude not to, and water was always a good idea. She ran her eyes over Yamato as he filled his. The man didn't look as bad as the last time she was here, but the signs were still there. "You hid it better in the hospital."
"Yeah, well, I didn't expect you to stalk me." Yamato drank half of his water in one swallow, then refilled it. "A week ago, you didn't even know where I lived."
Sakura arched one eyebrow at the tone. "I'm not stalking you. I'm trying to help you."
"I never asked for your help." Yamato knocked back his second glass of water, then put his cup in the sink. After wiping a hand across his mouth, he turned back toward the living room.
To give herself some time to think, Sakura filled her glass before following Yamato. He sat on the couch with his elbows on his knees and fingers linked behind his neck. Sakura took a seat beside him and nodded toward the bottle of sake. "If I wasn't here, how much would you have drunk?"
"Considerably more." The amusement in Yamato's voice didn't match the ice in his eyes. "I wouldn't have felt bad about it, either."
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to apologize for holding you to a higher standard?" Sakura scoffed and set her water on the table. Closing her hand around the beer, she tipped it up and allowed the heady flavor to flood her mouth.
Yamato reached for the sake with a snort. "This is the part where you mind your own damn business."
"Prove me wrong," Sakura challenged. Yamato made a questioning sound in the back of his throat and let the bottle clank onto the table. "If you can make it through the rest of the night without drinking, I can recommend a lesser suspension of duty."
Annoyance flashed across the man's face, and Sakura amended her words. "A temporary reprieve, I mean."
"It's the same thing, no matter what you call it." Yamato ran his tongue over his lips as he looked at the alcohol.
Sakura had no way of knowing how much alcohol had been in the bottle at the start of the night. Yamato had already consumed enough to take the edge off of whatever was bothering him. Plus, he'd had several beers before she came to the apartment. Sakura hoped that she was wrong. It was possible that she'd caught Yamato at a bad time, and he wasn't an alcoholic. Sakura had never drunk herself into a stupor before, but she could understand the desire well enough.
Leaving the bottle on the table, Yamato leaned one elbow on the back of the couch and leveled Sakura with a calculating expression. "If you're so serious about taking me off missions, why haven't you done it?"
Sakura considered the question. She'd planned to go to Kakashi multiple times during the day, but she kept putting it off. Part of her wanted to give Yamato every chance to seek help before it was mandated, but there was something else too, something just out of reach. "I wrote the recommendation," she answered with a shrug. "I just haven't delivered it."
"Afraid your evidence won't be enough?" A mocking edge entered Yamato's voice, but the amusement was still there.
Sakura snorted and shook her head. "I held back out of respect for you, but I know you're using stimulants to cope with something. You're chasing them with enough alcohol to lose consciousness," she continued, marking ticks on her fingers. "You've been admitted to the hospital multiple times in the past month, indicative of risk taking behavior, even for an Anbu. You're sleeping with a subordinate, which suggests your moral compass is skew—"
"Hold on," Yamato's brow furrowed as Sakura's barrage of words slowed. "I'm doing what?"
The genuine puzzlement on Yamato's face brought Sakura up short. She'd expected him to argue the earlier points, as he'd done in the past, but the final one was fairly obvious. Sakura arched one eyebrow. "I might be young, but I'm not naive enough not to know what a half naked woman walking out of your bedroom means."
Yamato mouthed the words that Sakura had just spoken without any sound. His frown deepened, and he turned toward the hallway for half a second, then back to Sakura. Laughter erupted from Yamato's lips, sudden enough to startle her. "You think—" choking on the mirth stopped Yamato from completing the sentence.
Sakura's cheeks warmed. "What's so funny?"
Doubled over with laughter, Yamato held his stomach. Sakura wished that she hadn't healed him; let the man laugh at her like that with a broken rib. Tears shone in Yamato's eyes when he raised his head. "You actually think," he lost control of the words in another fit of hilarity before collecting himself enough to speak. "You're mad because you think I'm sleeping with Saiyo?"
"I'm not mad," Sakura corrected, blush creeping high enough to make her ears burn. "I don't care who you sleep with."
"Oh, obviously." Yamato teased, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're so unconcerned that you made a note on my permanent record about it."
Anger rapidly replaced the embarrassment that Sakura felt. "It's not a permanent record. It's just a recommendation—"
"A recommendation to one of my best friends that just happens to detail my sex life?" The amusement remained in Yamato's voice, but it no longer seemed quite as frantic as it had. "What did you think Kakashi was going to do? Slap my wrist? Give me a high five? Ignore it entirely?"
"I liked you better when you weren't an arrogant drunk," Sakura growled, pushing to her feet. Embarrassment and fury washed through her body in equal measure. She wasn't sure which propelled her into motion.
Yamato caught Sakura's wrist before she made it two steps. Gentle pressure brought her around to face him, and he chuckled under his breath. "I've messed up a lot of things lately, but sleeping with Saiyo isn't one of them."
"I get it," Sakura answered, ripping her hand free of Yamato's grasp. "She's gotten a lot better in the past few months. Nothing wrong with it; everything is perfect. You can screw whomever—"
"You aren't listening. Saiyo has gotten better at combat," Yamato corrected. He released Sakura's hand, but he didn't move away. "She broke my ribs with a well aimed round kick, and the burns were from an explosive tag. I should have avoided both."
Sakura frowned up at Yamato as the words sank in. "But, she was wearing your shirt the other night. She came out of your bedroom."
"Yeah," Yamato inclined his head with the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips. Sakura couldn't tell if the expression suited him, or if she wanted to smack it from his face. "We sparred and she didn't want to go back to the barracks. She came over, took a shower, and borrowed a shirt so she didn't have to put dirty clothes back on. We talked and drank, then she slept it off in the bedroom. I took the couch."
Sakura frowned at the revelation. "Oh."
"Glad to know you have such a high opinion of me." Yamato shook his head with a rueful laugh. When Sakura opened her mouth to respond, he waved off the apology. "Saiyo is like a little sister to me, nothing more."
Sakura thought back to Saiyo's expression when she saw another woman in Yamato's apartment. It hadn't looked like friendship to her. "Does she know that?"
"Of course," Yamato gestured dismissively. "I knew she was having a bad time, so I was helping her get through it."
"By teaching her your coping mechanisms?" Sakura scoffed as she moved back to the couch and sat down. "They're working so well for you."
Yamato winced as the accusation struck home, and Sakura sighed. She hadn't intended to hurt him, only to prove that she saw the struggle he was facing, even if she didn't understand it. Yamato closed his eyes and rubbed circles on his temple with a thumb. "Why can't you just let it go?"
It would have been easy to offer a flippant response to the question, but the timbre of Yamato's voice stopped Sakura. It revealed pain that he'd never admitted, not to her at least. How long had he been burying whatever he felt while the rest of the world told him to be strong? It struck a chord in Sakura's chest. "Because you deserve better."
"You don't know me." Yamato's voice tightened as his gaze slid away from Sakura's face. "You think you do, but it's been a long time since we worked together. Even then, you only saw the person I wanted you to see."
The words stung, but Sakura recognized the truth in them. She'd jumped to a lot of conclusions about Yamato over the past couple of weeks and been shocked by multiple revelations. But, she couldn't forget the times they'd had together, either. Reaching out, Sakura placed a hand on Yamato's knee. "Then, let me in."
Conflict swirled in Yamato's brown eyes as they paused on Sakura's hand then followed it up to her face. For one dizzying moment, her vision doubled. Sakura imagined that she could see past the man's defenses and into the pain that he'd hidden for years. The urge to ease the trauma that he'd suffered settled heavy in Sakura's chest. She could kiss him, help him forget everything for a single moment. It would have been as simple as crossing the inches between them.
Except, kissing Yamato would have proved everything that Kazuko said about shinobi dealing with emotions through sex. Yamato was as likely to recoil as welcome the distraction. He probably viewed Sakura like a little sister too, and she wasn't certain that she saw him as more than a friend anyway. It was just the pressure of the moment. Swallowing the thought, Sakura locked the curiosity away. "Please? You don't have to carry this alone."
Yamato pulled back, putting some space between himself and Sakura. She let him go, unsure how they'd gotten so close in the first place. "The alcohol helps me sleep," he answered with a sigh, like the admission took more effort than it should have.
Sakura sat with the confession for a few seconds, processing the possibilities. She didn't like the thoughts that came to mind. "How long have you been drinking yourself unconscious?"
"I don't know, months?" Yamato paused, and Sakura got the distinct impression that he considered adding the word years before stopping himself. "Long enough to know what works and what doesn't."
A pang of pity swam through Sakura's stomach. "Why didn't you tell me this the other day?"
Razor sharp laughter bubbled through Yamato's lips. "Because I didn't want you to look at me the way that you are right now. I've had nightmares for years, and drinking helps me forget." The laughter took a hysteric edge. "It's not even original, right? An Anbu captain struggling with something as simple as nightmares."
"It's never that simple," Sakura countered, trying to remove the pity from her features. She didn't judge Yamato for the struggle; she understood it. "What can I do to help? Do you want to talk—"
"I would rather talk about anything other than that." Yamato shuddered as if the mere mention brought the terrors back to life. "Literally anything."
Sakura understood the desire to ignore the monsters that waited in the darkness. "Let's talk about something else then."
Despite having known each other for years, the conversation was awkward and uncomfortable at first. The broken bits of Sakura and Yamato's lives didn't have much in common beyond being shinobi, and she wanted to avoid that as much as possible. They lived in completely different circles of Konoha. While Yamato knew nearly all of Sakura's friends, they were acquaintances at best, except for Team Seven.
The discussion of Kakashi's new role as Hokage was a natural starting place. When Sakura shook her head and said that she couldn't imagine a person less fitted for the role, Yamato offered a halfhearted laugh. Then, he argued that Kakashi was one of the most capable and intelligent jonin in the village. He suggested that the laziness was a facade to keep the man from caring too much. The difference in opinion surprised Sakura, and she found herself wondering which of them knew Kakashi better. She had the uncomfortable feeling that Yamato might.
As they talked, Sakura watched Yamato for any worrying symptoms or tics that might give away his mental state. His hands shook, the movement growing more pronounced as the night grew later. Dark circles stood out under the man's eyes, highlighting his exhaustion. Sakura couldn't help but wonder how Kakashi had visited Yamato only a few days ago and not seen the signs of a person unraveling. She wasn't sure what to do about it, so she talked, about anything and everything.
After exhausting Kakashi as a topic, Sakura and Yamato moved on to Naruto and the missions that he'd been blowing through over the past couple of years. Yamato had followed the boy's progress and knew more about his life than Sakura did. She felt a pang of guilt for not checking in with the blonde more often. As much as she wanted to hide her failure behind being busy, she hadn't made the time. She needed to do that soon, like so many other things.
Neither Sakura nor Yamato brought up Sasuke, for which she was thankful. They didn't discuss the misunderstanding with Saiyo either. Some things were better left for another day. Once Yamato started talking, the conversation flowed from topic to topic more easily than Sakura expected. He didn't question her presence in the apartment or complain about the time. She checked her watch once and was surprised to find that almost two hours had come and gone since she'd arrived.
Despite the earlier annoyance at Sakura's presence, Yamato seemed to be enjoying her company. And, as long as she was here, he wasn't drinking. She offered comments when they were needed, but the exhaustion of the past few days crept up on her. Yamato had settled in the opposite corner of the couch, watching Sakura with a soft flush on his cheeks rather than the angry red of too much alcohol. She studied the rise and fall of his chest, wondering if he felt as sleepy as she did.
Yamato spoke freely of inconsequential things: how long he'd lived in the apartment, the bakery down the street, changes in the village, and Sakura's job. The influence of the earlier alcohol and conversation had eased the tension in Yamato's shoulders. He smiled more readily and was less guarded now that she'd stopped pushing him for information. As Yamato talked about a rehousing project that he'd worked on after the war, Sakura's eyes grew heavy. His voice sounded like a lullaby.
Sakura's head drifted toward her chest once, and the movement startled her awake. Yamato offered a tight smile. "Boring you, am I?"
"Not at all." Sakura answered, surprised to find that despite the earlier embarrassment, she'd enjoyed the evening. "It's just been a long day."
"You should go." Yamato's voice held a wistful tone that surprised Sakura almost as much as it saddened her. He glanced toward a clock on the wall and his eyes widened. "You should definitely go."
Sakura shook her head. "Nah, imagine the rumors that would get started if someone saw me leaving at this time of night."
Yamato chuckled. "And, spending the night is better?"
"I won't tell if you don't," Sakura teased. She was exhausted, but she didn't want to risk undoing all the good she'd done by allowing Yamato to drink.
Snorting a laugh at the comment, Yamato shook his head. "Fine, but it is late. You can take the bed—"
"Nope," Sakura shook her head. "I'll hang out on the couch, and you can sleep in your bed. You need it more than I do."
Sakura didn't point out that Yamato would have to walk past her to reach the alcohol, but she assumed that he understood. Grumbling under his breath, the man stood and walked toward the bedroom. He appeared a few minutes later with a pillow and blanket. "Fine, but you're taking these at least."
Nodding, Sakura flopped the pillow against the arm of the couch and watched Yamato. "Wake me up if you want to talk?"
Yamato laughed. "I'll see you in the morning."
Sakura woke with a jerk and experienced a moment of intense disorientation. The lumpy pillow and scratchy blanket were foreign, as were the dim shadows that filled her vision. The pieces fell back into place with aching slowness, and she remembered being in Yamato's apartment. Raising her wrist, Sakura checked the time and blinked at the numbers. It was nearly four in the morning; she hadn't been asleep for more than a couple of hours.
A low whimper that resembled a frightened animal reached Sakura's ears. She turned toward the sound, unsurprised to find that it came from Yamato's bedroom. Sighing, Sakura folded the blanket that she'd been using, placed it on the opposite side of the couch, then stacked the pillow on top. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the bottle of sake and sticky white cup still in place. At least she hadn't slept through that.
Chewing her lip, Sakura considered her options. She could slip away from the apartment without going to investigate the noise. Yamato's mental health and fears weren't something that she could erase. None of this was her business. But, Sakura couldn't just turn her back on Yamato. He'd opened up over the course of the night, becoming less standoffish and more human. Sakura wondered if this was the side of Yamato that Sayio saw before he drowned himself in the bottle.
When the sound came again, Sakura made up her mind. She and Ino might not have the resources to help everyone yet, but she could make a difference right now. How long had Yamato been fighting these demons alone? She rose and crept through the hallway. The noise had grown softer, more groan than cry. Sakura wondered what demons waited in Yamato's sleep. Did he see the men and women that he'd killed on missions? Did he relive near death experiences night after night? Was it trauma that she didn't know about? There was no way to know, not yet.
Exhaling and steeling herself, Sakura pushed the door open. Moonlight bathed the room in soft shades of silver. Yamato lay on the bed, white sheet tangled around his legs. The scent of fear hung heavy in the air as the man tossed to his other side. Sweat plastered Yamato's hair to his forehead, and the weak light made him paler than usual. Sakura moved closer, noting the grimace that locked his jaw against whatever terrors he was facing.
A floor board squeaked underfoot, then a vice-like grip captured Sakura's arm. Yamato dragged her across his chest in what had to be an instinctual movement. Her back hit the mattress hard enough to stun her, or maybe the speed left her stupefied. Yamato moved quicker than she thought possible. Before Sakura could register the danger, knees pinned her hips to the bed and one hand caught her wrists. The other held a kunai, and the blade pressed against Sakura's neck hard enough to break the skin.
Warm, sticky blood shook Sakura from her daze. She twisted, ignoring Yamato's weight above her. The pain in her neck seemed distant as she broke his grip on her wrist by focusing pressure on his thumb. Yamato's eyes widened as Sakura's chakra infused hand slammed into his chest. The pulse of energy hurled him backward and to the side. She heard him hit something solid enough to knock the breath out of him, but the sound seemed far away.
Sakura rolled off of the bed and landed in a crouch with the fingers of her left hand splayed for support. The right cradled her neck, terrified to feel the pump of arterial spray. Slippery wetness coated her fingers but the pressure wasn't dangerous. She let out a sigh of relief. Adrenaline roared through Sakura's veins, making her hyper aware of the scene. Every detail leaped to life: the kunai glittering a couple of feet from Yamato's left knee, the scent of sweat and sickness, and the brilliant red numbers on the clock that told her it was 4:08.
Yamato slumped against the wall. He blinked a couple of times and stared around the room as if trying to make sense of where he was. Shaking off the daze, he stumbled to his feet. Unreadable emotions flitted across the man's face when his eyes fell on Sakura. She lowered her hand, prepared to leap if he made any threatening movements. Yamato opened his mouth, and his face took on a peculiar shade of green. Then, he dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach across the floor.
Sakura swallowed her mounting terror and felt the wound on her neck. It was a minor cut rather than a life ending one, but the difference was millimeters. Hands shaking, she healed the damage and wiped the blood on her pants. Her body trembled from the fight or flight response that it had just endured. The panic faded so quickly that Sakura thought she might be sick too. Yamato hadn't moved from his position on the floor, but she knew the danger had passed. He stayed on hands and knees, head drooping between his shoulders.
Forcing herself to take another calming breath, Sakura pushed to her feet. The room adjoining the bedroom was probably a bathroom, so she went that direction to find a towel. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and noticed the trail of blood that disappeared into the collar of her shirt. It could have ended so— Sakura forced herself not to follow that line of reasoning. She drew a towel from the cabinet and walked back to the bedroom.
When Sakura knelt to clean the vomit, Yamato fell backward into a sitting position. He shuddered and scooted away until he bumped into the wall. Sakura watched him from the corner of her eye; he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Sakura shook her head and forced out a laugh that she didn't feel. "You're Anbu. I should have expected you to react the way you did."
"Did I hurt you?" Yamato's voice sounded small and lost.
The man's eyes followed the path of blood from Sakura's neck to her jaw as she shook her head. "Just a little cut. I've had worse injuries from training."
Yamato hummed and closed his eyes, thumping his head back against the wall. He laced trembling fingers together, entire body shaking with chills. Sakura frowned. How long had it been since his last drink? Four hours? Six? She realized that Yamato was probably entering the first stages of withdrawal depending on how much he'd been drinking. She sighed. "You're probably going to feel a lot worse before you feel better."
"Yeah, I know." Yamato managed a strained laugh. "I've done this before."
As much as Sakura wanted to ask what Yamato meant, she knew this wasn't the time. After carrying the damp towel to the hamper, she moved over to Yamato and hauled him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you to the bathroom in case you're sick again."