Chapter 2: Enemy Territory
When Sasuke slept, he dreamt of blood. A bloated full moon, looming too low in the evening sky, each crater emphasized by its crimson glow. Shifting tomoe, the sharp transition of pinwheels, but not the menace of his brother's Mangekyō, only the blood as it dripped from Itachi's dying, smiling mouth. In the Valley of the End with Naruto, blood gushing from his torn-off arm as though it always intended to leave him. On the Samurai Bridge with Sakura, her blood on his hands, as though it always knew it would be.
Forced to face a mirror, the heirloom from Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki carved into his orbital sockets as deep as the craters of the moon, tears of blood blurring his vision until he could no longer see himself.
Sasuke forced himself to remain awake. Rest wasn't worth the opium-induced nightmares.
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The hot bath Sakura had been daydreaming of since the battlefield did not disappoint. She diligently scrubbed off dirt that might have been been caked on for weeks, scraped it out from beneath her blackened fingernails. Even the cheap, citrus-scented hospital soaps were better than the plain bars from wartime supplies. She washed her hair once, then twice. Afraid she would fall asleep if she let herself languish in the steaming heat, Sakura stepped out of the tub as soon as she finished.
Prior to bathing, Mika had found her an extra pair of clothing; the standard black fatigues given to all Leaf shinobi admitted to the hospital. Though the attire was familiar, her reversed position as the patient was not. It was decidedly uncomfortable, but Sakura tugged the clothes on and told herself to be grateful they fit well. Besides, anything was better than the papery gowns.
Despite rushing through her opportunity to relax, she stalled during the rest of her routine. In the solitude of the bathroom, she could let her thoughts wander without worry of an audience. Sasuke's apology in the Valley, his apparent willingness to return home. It was hard to accept as reality, and even if she did, what was it really? A fragile peace brokered by Naruto, one secured after blood loss and defeat. She wondered for how long it might last.
Sakura busied herself by plaiting her short hair and pinning it into the shape of a crown. She always had an affinity for genjutsu. The ability to recognize the falsity of a well-crafted dream, to remain consciously removed. To resist its lure and break free from the trance. What if this wasn't any different?
Sooner or later, she would find out.
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Sakura refused to return to the patient bed. Instead, she curled into the chair at Naruto's bedside, her knees pulled to her chest and both arms wrapped around them. It was late, almost midnight if she had to guess, and the men in their room remained asleep. Kakashi was still stable but comatose, Sasuke was turned onto his side, injured arm relaxed as he faced the opposite direction, and Naruto snored mercilessly, drool gathered at the corner of his mouth.
Despite the mechanical whir of hospital machinery and bland, sterile environment, there was an open window that offered a gentle breeze and clear view of the starlit sky. Sakura rested her head onto her arms. She told herself to look out the window and count the stars, but she couldn't help but watch the still frame of Sasuke's back.
Even injured and asleep, he radiated power, the same self-contained strength she'd always recognized in him. Only he wasn't a child anymore. She found herself cataloguing every difference, the width of his broad shoulders, the shape of sculpted muscles visible beneath the thin, white blanket, until she drifted into partial sleep.
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"Sakura-chan." Naruto's voice was thick and groggy, too quiet to wake her instantly.
She turned slowly, her cheek still pressed against her arms. "Hey," she greeted quietly. "How do you feel?"
"Ehh," Naruto hesitated. He unabashedly wiped the corner of his mouth. "Not the greatest, if I'm being honest."
"Always be honest when a medical-nin asks." Sakura straightened up. "If you don't tell the staff exactly what you're feeling, if it's better or worse, then they can't help."
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Naruto warily appraised his arm, and Sakura followed his line of vision to his missing hand. If the bandaged stump was surreal to her, she could only imagine how it felt to be him. "When I woke up, I uh, I forgot. Every time I wake up, I forget it's gone."
Sakura stopped herself from wincing. She thumbed at the edge of the red whirlpool stitched onto the sleeve of her left arm.
"That can be the hardest part in the beginning," Sakura offered. Healing chakra flared to life on both her hands, which she lifted toward him. "Mind if I examine you?"
Naruto frowned at her green, glowing hands. "You're supposed to be resting."
She jerked her chin toward the empty patient bed, which had been cleaned and remade with fresh bed linens. "I'm finished with that."
Naruto scoffed in good humor. "And I'm the stubborn one. Alright, yeah, fine. Thanks, Sakura-chan."
Sakura promptly went to work, probing with her chakra to discern the extent of the damage, but also to see what stage of healing Naruto had already achieved.
He watched her without blinking, uncharacteristically nervous. "What's uh, what's the next hardest part?"
She spared him a brief, empathetic smile. "Right now, just focus on keeping yourself stable. We have to ensure the swelling goes down."
"I don't think you answered my question, Sakura-chan."
"I know that I didn't," she answered, kind but firm. Then, remembering Sasuke was asleep, she pointedly lowered her voice to a quiet murmur. "I know you think you're invincible, but you've suffered a traumatic injury even the kyuubi can't fix for you. For now, just take it one day at a time."
"Ehh, I don't think I'm invincible," he protested. Then, he seemed to reflect on it, and soberly added: "But apparently you are. You- you're not even injured. How? Is it the seal? That's the same one on Granny Tsunade."
"No, don't be silly," she clucked. "It's not the seal, at least not directly. But it does allow me to use a special technique, Creation Rebirth jutsu, which instantaneously heals any wound I sustain."
"That's incredible." Naruto narrowed his eyes at the seal. "So what does it do, then? It keeps you young, like baa-chan?"
"You're insufferable," Sakura whispered harshly, and Naruto grinned. But she smiled softly too, then refocused on her assessment of his arm. "No, that's not what it does either. It's called the Strength of a Hundred Seal. If you can control your chakra well enough to store large amounts of it over an extended period of time, keeping it together in one specific place, like the forehead, then the seal activates once it reaches capacity. What it does is allow me to perform every jutsu without wasting any energy, and then with so much additional chakra on-hand, it works to automatically amplify the power of my techniques."
Naruto started to whistle, but she hushed him. "That's why you had all those black marks? Like when you rescued Sasuke?"
"I didn't rescue Sasuke," she said, startled.
"The bastard was stuck in another time-space dimension."
"Obito found him. Travelling through the time-space dimensions required a Sharingan-user."
"Yeah, you just provided all the super power for it."
Sakura flinched. "It's hardly appropriate to insinuate the Sharingan requires super powering."
Naruto lifted both his brows. "Could Obito have done it himself?"
Sakura didn't answer, which was an answer enough.
"That's what I thought," Naruto added triumphantly. "Explain the Creation Rebirth to me. I mean, you heal immediately. Does that like, make you immortal?"
Sakura laughed quietly. "Of course not. The opposite, actually. It forces cells to divide and duplicate to heal faster, but by doing so, that shortens the user's lifespan."
Naruto jerked away from her healing probing, but Sakura promptly reclaimed his arm with a mild glare.
"You shouldn't use that jutsu then."
She was unaffected. "I seem to remember when you learned that your fancy-pants jutsu would permanently sever your chakra pathway system, it didn't stop you."
"Yeah well, if you remember, I solved that problem. Have you solved yours?"
"No," Sakura admitted curtly, then sighed. "Trust me, Naruto, it's only for critical situations."
"Guess fighting Uchiha Madara and the mother of chakra counts as critical."
"Yeah," she murmured. "I'd say so."
"Hey, wait a second. Did you just call my Rasenshuriken a fancy-pants jutsu?"
"Shove it, Naruto."
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Sasuke had no choice but to listen to them. The cadence of their voices, a familiar rhythm between their bantering, brought him back to forcefully forgotten times. Chasing after cats, complaining about D-ranked missions. Eating around a campfire, arguing over who performed hand signs faster. Waiting for their perpetually late sensei, bickering over anything and everything, making up games to pass the time. Debating which restaurant to go to, who's turn it was to pick or to pay.
Considering he hadn't willingly participated in the half of it, Sasuke couldn't understand why or how he was able to recall the memories in such vivid clarity. For years, they'd been snuffed out, all thoughts of Team Seven safely secured from ever encroaching into his conscious thoughts. Now, they avidly sprung forward, greedy for the chance to be seen.
It was the calm, collected tone Sakura transitioned to while healing that was foreign. When she began to give Naruto her prognosis on his amputated limb, Sasuke listened carefully. He was not so arrogant as to be unaware that most of his survival and success came from his ability to be patient and observe. As Sakura provided instructions and warnings, Sasuke catalogued the information for himself.
Naruto thanked her profusely. The dobe was as smitten with her as their younger years. "Did you always want to do this, Sakura-chan? Medical ninjutsu?"
"No, not really," she admitted easily, but she must have appeared thoughtful. "I don't think I ever knew what I wanted to do. Just- just what I wanted to be."
"Eh? A shinobi?"
"Well, yes," Sakura answered, though it sounded as if there were more to it then that. He heard shuffling as she rearranged herself on the chair beside Naruto. "You know, one of the first things Tsunade-sama had me do was try to save a dead fish. Which, well you remember me at thirteen: it was gross to touch, and- and impossible to heal. But I kept studying, and kept trying, until one day, it worked.
"I mean, one minute it was dying on the table, flat and unmoving, and then the next- it was alive, flipping wildly, about to flop off the table. That's when I knew. I was in the right place, learning the right thing. I wanted to know more, do more. I wanted— well, that was just a fish. I needed to be good enough to heal people who'd otherwise be dead."
For a moment, her words hung heavy in the air between them.
"Like with Kankaro," Naruto added brightly. "He was as good as dead, no one else could save him, but you did."
Sakura hummed. "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, like that."
With his back facing them, they thought he was asleep. Sasuke's eyes were open as he stared at the wall across from him. The Rinnegan pulsed, a constant reminder that he now hosted a gift from the heavens. Meant for the God of Creation, or just as likely, for the God of Destruction. It continued to throb, alive with its divine instructions: to reduce everything to nothingness.
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She took her first step outside of the hospital doors. Discharge paperwork tucked to her chest and chunky, plastic identity band cut from her wrist and crunched inside her fist, Sakura started to take her second step. The return of the Leaf shinobi force from the battlefield brought chaos and commotion to the halls of the hospital, but to her trained ears, it was more soothing than startling. It was the emptied rooms and absent staff that had been disconcerting. Standing outside, though, caused Sakura to halt on her third step.
Overcast skies and gentle winds promised a pleasant day, but visions of Konoha under attack slammed to the forefront of her mind. Her memories took over, uninvited, replaying the sight of crumbling buildings, broken bodies, and screaming civilians. Sakura blinked, trying to focus on the reality in front of her, but it was too late. She felt the fast-paced thudthudthud of her rampantly beating heart, how the breath seemed to be stolen from her lungs. On the skyline, she saw thick plumes of smoke and iron-studded creatures crashing down from rooftops. She saw what was left of Konohagakure after Pain razed it to the ground.
Sakura turned around. She took the same three steps back and flung the glass doors open. Her warped, plastic wristband fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
A nurse she just said goodbye to a moment before looked up from her desk, one brow arched and shoulders straightened. The older woman looked as if she was about to ask a question, one Sakura knew she couldn't bear to hear right now. Are you alright?
Sakura plastered a warm, sunny smile on her face. The sort that felt as if stretched her cheek muscles into an unnatural position, but she knew from experience looked as genuine as all her others.
"Forgot a few things from my office," she offered easily. "You know how it is."
The nurse relaxed immediately, and returned Sakura's self-deprecating smile. Before she had a chance to speak further, Sakura walked swiftly toward the East Wing hall and staff-only staircase.
Her smile lingered. She measured her breaths to their normal rate. She climbed the steps one at a time. Once she made it to the third floor landing, she kept her ordinary brisk pace. But as soon as she reached her office, her hand trembling as she pulled on the knob, Sakura slammed the door behind her.
"Kami," she whispered angrily, but finally gave in and took a desperate breath.
She didn't make it to her desk or the sofa, but pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor. Her paperwork fell and scattered across the linoleum.
Deployed on the warfront meant exposure to new places and daily distractions; being in Konoha meant reliving Pain's Assault on her home. Men had cried out, so hoarse and guttural she would have sworn the sounds came from wounded animals. Women screamed at her, begging and pleading for their children to be saved. But Sakura had ignored them, seeing them only for the colors she needed to assign them. Red. Yellow. Green. She watched them grapple with their worst fears, saw them in unfathomable pain, but worried only about how promptly she could finish with one to move onto another, sometimes forgetting to even look at their faces. Red. Yellow. Green.
The nurse's eyes had asked her. Are you alright?
Sakura buried her forehead into both her palms and gasped for air. The real answer didn't matter. She would have to be.
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Along with the shinobi from the battlefront, the Fifth Hokage returned. Tsunade militantly addressed the post-war tasks at hand. Determining casualties and notifying families. Staffing the hospital to ensure proper treatment of the wounded. Reconfiguring village assignments. Meetings upon meetings, indulging the daimyos, budgeting for construction and repairs, offering civilian assistance. It made Sakura's head spin every time she found herself unwittingly a participant in the conversations, but the hospital needed her and she needed it. While she kept herself busy caring for patients, order and structure were slowly restored in the Leaf.
Sakura always kept spare clothes and all of her essentials in her office. She decided it was easier to stay there, especially when there was a steady stream of war-fatigued patients. She slept on the sofa in her office for a few hours as-needed, then returned to the crowded Intensive Care Unit or busied Operation Room.
When a set of three ANBU arrived with instructions to separate Naruto from the rogue-nin who tried to kill him, she was performing abdominal surgery to repair a kunoichi's internal organs. By the time she was notified, it was too late.
Naruto filled her in later. With Sasuke deemed medically stable, a powerful seal designed to block his chakra access and incapacitate both the Rinnegan and Sharingan was placed atop his forehead. Then he was promptly handcuffed and sent to an undisclosed prison location with additional ANBU protection. It was inevitable, Sakura knew, but it still felt like being dunked into an icy cold bath.
Apparently, and unsurprisingly, Naruto protested profusely. It was no use: it was the Hokage's orders, signed and sealed accordingly. What did surprise her, though, was a flippant remark Naruto made at the end of his ranting and raving. Sasuke had told him to shut up, and did none of the protesting. It seemed he not only expected punitive action, but was willing to accept it.
Sakura chewed on her bottom lip as Naruto spoke, uncertain what she would have said or done if she'd been there. It wasn't easy to fight for Sasuke to come home, but in the beginning, it had been simple and straightforward. Fighting for him to stay home though? That was another matter entirely, one she hadn't mentally prepared for. Every day, she wished Kakashi would wake up, not just to see him well and healthy, but to hear what he would say on the matter.
Naruto continued to complain, but Sakura barely heard him. She watched the nurses strip the bedding from where Sasuke had been. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Sakura found herself wondering if and when she'd get to see him again.
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A full week went by before Kakashi finally came to. He woke to an empty room. Naruto had been transferred to the recommended physical therapy division of the hospital and Sakura kept busy with extra shifts. Upon being notified of his improved status, the two of them rushed over as quickly as they could.
Naruto flung himself onto the opposite bed, disregarding advice to be careful and take it easy. Sakura took one glance at her old sensei to confirm that he was conscious, then went immediately to the medical charts posted on the end of Kakashi's bed. She was determined to review his vital signs and most recent lab work herself.
Sakura was too focused on reading stats- body temperature, pulse rate, respiration rate, blood pressure- to hear Naruto dominating a one-sided conversation.
"Tell him, Sakura-chan," Naruto insisted.
She abruptly looked up, her index finger placed to mark her spot. "I'm sorry, tell him what, Naruto?"
"About Sasuke," he said, frustrated not with her but the situation. Though he had spoken to her, he was looking at their old sensei. "You saw him when you brought him here. He's in no condition to be stuck in a prison cell."
For the first time, Sakura turned up from the chart and looked only at Kakashi. He'd lost weight, she could tell, and he appeared exhausted; color leached from his half-visible face and his shoulders slumped against the headboard. But he was alert, and Sakura thought Kaka-sensei was like a cat with nine lives, always one to land on his feet and guaranteed to recover. There was a sharp clarity in his stone gray eyes.
"Naruto is right," Sakura contributed. "He might be medically stable, but extensive work is required to fully treat and rehabilitate his arm."
Kakashi nodded. "I'm sure that's true, but the Hokage has decided this is what's necessary for the time-being."
"Granny Tsunade is busy with a million other things," Naruto argued. "She doesn't realize how important this is. You have to talk to her."
"Well, now that I've been conscious for fifteen minutes for the first time in a week, there's surely no time like the present," Kakashi offered dryly.
Sakura laughed nervously and did her best to offer an apology, but Naruto continued to rant about the unfairness of Sasuke's treatment. Kakashi made no promises.
"He has to atone for what he's done, Naruto."
"How can you say that?" Naruto stormed over to Kakashi's bed, his one and only arm tossed wildly in the air. "You know what he went through. You know what this village did. To him, to his family! It's not his fault th—"
Kakashi reached up and put a stern hand on Naruto's uninjured shoulder. "We will handle that, but it has to be done discreetly. Sasuke will receive fair treatment until a private court decides what to do with him."
Standing in the corner nearby, Sakura's shoulders tightened. What did Naruto mean, what the village did to Sasuke and his clan?
Naruto was ready to explode again, but Kakashi interrupted him.
"We will do everything in our power to ensure he's released. You must get your head on straight if you want to help with that. You proved yourself on the battlefield with your strength as a shinobi, Naruto. Now you must prove your worth as a future Hokage in these more complicated affairs."
That finally sobered Naruto. But Sakura found it was just another reason she struggled to fall asleep at night.
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Returning to life after the war was like walking around lucid at the precipice of a nightmare. Every attempt to reestablish normalcy only solidified how abnormal things remained.
Walking through the village was impossible for her. To get to her apartment, she had to pass the abandoned streets, corner markets, and housing district that Pain demolished. Only dust and broken rubble remained, but in her mind, she saw the bright-colored buildings as they crumbled. The fractured limbs and snapped spines of countless bodies. How her eardrums had rattled from the screams of those still bleeding, but not yet dead. Sometimes, dead was better. Red-red-red.
The villagers were resurrected and the Akatsuki had been defeated. So why did it feel like they lost?
Even with construction crews and earth-style jutsu users hard at work, Sakura felt like she stalked through the hostile environment of enemy territory. Intrusive memories plagued her every day and stole her sleep every night. She did what she could to avoid triggering them. Knowing she had enough chakra to spare, Sakura quickly worked out a transportation jutsu that took her straight from her home to the hospital. Though, it was the latter that hosted her most of the time.
Some of the shinobi threw themselves into a constant alcohol-induced stupor. Others forgot their families and friends to focus only on the reconstruction efforts. Most found something, or someone, to distract them from their loss. Sakura simply disappeared within the realms of her work.
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Two weeks after Konoha's shinobi forces returned, a time-span that felt like both half a day and an entire year, Sakura was summoned to the Hokage's office. Lady Tsunade still utilized her youthful protection, yet she seemed older and more tired than ever before.
Sakura bowed respectfully. "You called for me, shishou?"
"They're calling you one of the new sannin, Sakura. Perhaps it's time to forfeit the shishou."
Sakura's eyes lit up as she took a seat in front of her mentor. "I'm sure I have much more to learn from you, Tsunade-shishou."
Tsunade growled at the paperwork in front of her. "Like how to keep up with this endless nonsense?"
Sakura tried to laugh, but she was concerned about why she was summoned and her hesitation showed. Tsunade took a pause from her paperwork and folded her hands atop the desk.
"Uchiha Sasuke has refused medical treatment in prison ever since he got there. This afternoon, I received word that he's had a fever and started to vomit. I think it's been going on for several days, but his symptoms have just now become obvious enough to cause concern."
Fear flashed across Sakura's visage. It wasn't blind fear; her medical training immediately presented her with several alarming reasons why he could have flu-like symptoms in relation to an open wound.
"Naruto said that when he was first brought here, he wouldn't let anyone besides you touch him," Tsunade continued. "I'm granting you special permission to visit him and provide medical attention, assuming he'll accept it."
"When?" Sakura demanded, knowing it was urgent.
"Now." Tsunade handed her an envelope sealed with the Hokage's official stamp. "Tenzo will take you."
"Tenzo?" Sakura asked as she stood.
The ANBU who had been standing quietly in the corner came forward. He wore a vaguely familiar elephant mask. When he took it off, it was Yamato's face underneath.
"Tenzo is my real name, Sakura," he admitted. "I was given the name Yamato for what was supposed to be a temporary assignment to protect Naruto."
If she'd been in her usual mood, she would have commented or even bantered with him, but the need to heal Sasuke was the only thought she could keep in her mind.
"Alright," she nodded toward him. "First, I need to get my supplies from the hospital."
Tsunade picked up a bag from underneath her desk. "This should have everything you need."
Sakura took it eagerly. "Thank you, shishou."
"Go," Tsunade waved.
"We'll use a transportation jutsu," Yamato explained, taking out a scroll and lifting his hand to Sakura.
She gripped one hand onto the bag and another onto Yamato. It wasn't until they were transported that she realized she'd forgotten to bow or even say goodbye to Lady Tsunade, but as soon as the thought occurred, it left her. The change of environment was immediately oppressive.
Sakura couldn't have guessed at exactly where they were, but it was dark, dank, and uncomfortable. She assumed it was underground, beneath additional jutsu-layered barriers, in whatever place even the brightest shinobi would least expect it.
Two ANBU guards were there to greet them.
Yamato— Tenzo— lifted his hand toward her envelope, and Sakura belatedly realized he was prompting her to hand it over to the guards. Exhaustion and fear only frayed her nerves further. She shoved the Hokage's message toward the guards.
One with a mouse mask wordlessly took the envelope, unsealed it, and read the message. Then they handed it back to Tenzo without dispute.
"This way," the ANBU said neutrally. The four of them went through additional barriers, tunnels, and jutsu-locked doors to get to where Sasuke was kept.
The second Sakura could see him in his cell, her stomach fell to the floor. He looked significantly worse than she feared. In just two weeks of imprisonment he must have lost ten pounds. His clothes hung off of him. He was pale, visibly sick, and drenched in perspiration. The bandages on his missing limb looked old, dirty, and worn. She wasn't sure whether to be frightened or infuriated.
It turned out the latter was what came more naturally.
"Kami! What have you done?" she demanded, fury directed to the ANBU with both her fists clenched. "Nothing, it seems."
They must have known her particular skill-set because both of them took an immediate step back.
The mouse-masked ANBU remained unapologetic. "He's refused to eat. He's refused to let anyone touch him. Even Hokage-sama came to provide medical treatment, but he refused her, too."
Sakura remembered that her mentor said she received the note this afternoon. It still meant they waited far too long to notify the Hokage properly. Certainly not an accident.
"I will deal with you later," she seethed. "Now let me in to his cell."
With their masks on it was impossible to tell their reactions, but they complied without protest. It took both of the ANBU using a specialized jutsu at the precise same time to release the cell doors. Sakura rushed through as soon as they opened.
Though she'd planned to ask Sasuke if it was alright to provide medical treatment, his pitiful condition made her change her mind. He would not refuse her, too.
"Sasuke-kun," she said, kneeling in front of the stone bench that he lay on. With his eyes covered for additional protection, she couldn't tell if he was awake or not. "Are you conscious?"
He tilted his head toward her.
"How do I remove this?" Sakura looked to the ANBU as she pointed to the blindfold. "I need to see his eyes."
They hesitated to answer or agree to those terms.
"If you make this any more difficult for me than it needs to be," Sakura began, her tone surprisingly calm and even, "then I will bury you both."
"It can be removed with a Rat signal release."
Sakura swiftly released it. The blindfold slipped off on its own.
Though there was only minimal light in his cell in the first place, it was the first time Sasuke wasn't in complete darkness for fourteen days. He was heavy-lidded as he blinked in an attempt to open his eyes.
At least he was conscious. She placed one hand onto his chest and the other atop his forehead, instantly radiating her healing chakra to assess him. The results aligned with what she suspected.
"You have an infection that's spread through your blood," Sakura informed him. "I need to heal it in its entirety, and then eliminate the source."
He didn't respond, but she could see how he slowly regained focus in his vision. The way his dilated pupils adjusted to the light and then settled onto the sight of her.
Sakura felt a small pang of encouragement that he refused treatment from everyone else yet hadn't protested in the slightest with her, but she put the thought to the side and focused on removing the infection. Thankfully, cleansing a blood infection was not as time-consuming as having to withdraw poison.
"It takes about forty-five seconds for blood to travel from the heart, through the body, and back to the heart again," she told him. "It will take me awhile to ensure I remove all of it from your entire circulatory system."
It was difficult to tell with him laying down, but she thought he offered half a nod.
She spent the next half hour repeatedly removing the infection from his blood each time it cycled through his heart. Once finished, Sakura straightened up and looked directly to him for the first time since she'd started. He was agitated; tense in every muscle, covered in sweat and grime. She decided it was best not to ask him how he felt. The answer, if he would even give one, was obvious.
"Have they fed you?" Sakura asked instead.
Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
"Have you eaten any of it?" She had a feeling she knew the answer to that too, though she couldn't understand it.
This time, he did not nod.
"Why not, Sasuke-kun?"
For a moment he stared at her. Despite the years that aged him, the look was no different than the one he scolded her with from the past. It yanked her straight back to the dynamics of their genin days. Her, sweet but petulant. Him, cold and indifferent. She hated it then. Now, she wasn't sure if she hated him or hated herself.
Something must have flickered over her features. Sasuke blinked at her, but then he pointedly turned his gaze toward the ceiling above him.
She frowned, but decided to put all of it on pause, knowing his bandages and wound required further attention.
"I need to unwrap your bandages, evaluate and clean the wound, and rewrap it."
She didn't wait for his permission, but started to rummage around the medical bag with the assumption it'd be given. She found the rubbing alcohol and sterile lubricant that would assist in removing the bandages without tearing at his skin.
Though she knew it couldn't have felt comfortable, Sasuke didn't flinch when she pulled back the old, crusted bandages. The sight underneath was as horrific as she'd thought it would be. Tissue that should have been healing looked swollen and red, and there was yellowish pus and other signs of infection by the protruding bone. Her fury with the ANBU flared back to life in an instant, but she clenched her teeth to focus.
Sakura directed her healing chakra onto the inflamed tissue and tackled the source of his infection. Now that her chakra reserves were fully restored, it was simpler and faster to treat the wound. In the middle of intense concentration, it was almost possible to forget it was an imprisoned Sasuke who's half-limb she treated.
Almost.
"There," Sakura murmured. "That should do it."
Then she spun her torso around to face the ANBU.
"Yama— Tenzo," Sakura called out. "Can you please have them bring me fresh water, antibacterial soap, and clean towels?"
She decided she was no longer talking to the guards directly and turned back toward her patient. By the sound of departing footsteps, she knew one of them had listened to her instructions.
Sakura repositioned from kneeling to sit on the ground beside the bench Sasuke lay on, her legs crossed in a more comfortable position. Though her mentor hadn't dedicated much time to teach her bedside manner, Sakura knew relaxed body language was important to appear more approachable.
When she spoke next, she lowered her voice. "Why won't you accept the food?"
Maybe she was still sweet and petulant. But she had never been stupid.
No wonder the ANBU guards felt safer with a blindfold on him. He looked up to the ceiling as if he planned to murder it. To her surprise, Sasuke answered her.
"Can't trust it." His voice was so hoarse. It was barely recognizable.
Sakura chewed her bottom lip, but pulled a fresh bottle of water with a straw already attached from her bag and presented it to him.
He didn't take it. She had dealt with her fair share of stubborn shinobi, especially wounded men. Sakura pushed the bottle closer to his chest.
"I can put the straw in your mouth myself, or you can do it."
He took the bottle. Smart enough to start with brief, careful sips, he drank a limited amount of water.
Sakura sat there and thought about what he said. He did not trust the food. She wanted to protest his lack of trust, but she saw how the guards treated him- or did not treat him- and knew that there were things she did not know. It was unlikely she would be able to change his mind now if he had persisted on starving himself for so long already.
What was it that she didn't know, that Naruto and Kaka-sensei did? Sakura shelved those thoughts, too.
"I know you don't know him, but Tenzo is another member of Team Seven," she told him. "He served on ANBU with Kaka-sensei, and has special abilities there were needed to protect Naruto from the nine-tailed fox. Kakashi entrusted Tenzo to take his place as our sensei for awhile. I trust Tenzo with my life."
The next part, she left unspoken: And you trust me with yours.
Sakura cleared her throat. "If I ask him to bring food from my own apartment, will you accept it?"
He acted as if he hadn't heard her. She knew the temptation had to be great, but that his stubbornness could be greater.
"Please? You cannot survive without food for much longer, Sasuke-kun."
Another moment passed before he nodded. She exhaled in relief and turned toward the man she'd known as her replacement sensei, elephant-masked Tenzo.
"I have leftover butajiru, tomatoes, and granola in my kitchen. Can you please get it?"
"My transportation jutsu doesn't go directly into your apartment." Though this was obvious, he meant that he'd be awhile.
"Well, I'd hope not," she countered. Then, she was serious. "I'll wait."
The other ANBU arrived with a bucket of water, a bar of soap, and a few clean towels. When they dropped the items outside the entrance of his cell, likely as close as Sasuke would typically let them get, she forced herself to say thanks.
"I have to wash out the wound before I redo the bandages. Then, if you want to wash in general…" she trailed off.
"Hn."
Sakura noted that the water was warm, not cold. Apparently instilling a little fear into the ANBU guards had worked. She took one of the smaller towels and used it to wash what remained of Sasuke's injured arm. As she worked, she made a pointed effort to avoid looking at his face. She was too desperate to see him, to study him. She couldn't let that show.
The first time she'd provided treatment to his still-bleeding wound, she was in shock. Now, she grieved as she tended to it. Perhaps she was supposed to only be grateful he was alive, but she was devastated for him. A shinobi losing one of their arms was not a small price to pay. Sakura privately hoped that Tsunade-sama's secret project with her grandfather's cells would yield results soon.
Touching him, even under the circumstances and in his current condition, felt like a gift. But she was keenly aware it wasn't one Sasuke had willingly given to her.
"There's no more necrotic tissue," she said, feeling the need to fill the silence of what seemed too intimate, even with her professional training. "The infection shouldn't return if you allow them to provide a daily check-up for a few more days."
"No."
Sakura swallowed. "Then I'll be back to do it."
She had no way of knowing if she would secure that permission, but she intended to use all of her political might and powerful friendships to make sure that she could.
When she finished washing his arm, she carefully patted it dry, and then securely did the new round of bandages. By the time she finished, Tenzo was back with the food from her apartment.
"I heated the butajiru up," he said as he placed the soup at the cell's entrance. "Should still be hot."
She smiled and thanked him, hoping Sasuke would also recognize this thoughtful gesture as a sign of trustworthiness. As Sakura went to collect the food items, Sasuke forced himself up into a sitting position. She pretended not to notice how he struggled until finding support against the wall.
"I would start with the pork for protein." Sakura said, lifting the soup up to him. "But if you haven't eaten in two weeks, then you really should only have a few bites. At least for now."
Sasuke knew that, too. He took the bowl she offered, set it beside him, and carefully ate only five small bites. Sakura waited patiently, her brows furrowed as she stared at the opposite wall. Without a current distraction, it was hard not to ruminate on all of her unanswered questions. Naruto insinuated that the Leaf village had done something to harm Sasuke and his family, but what?
Sasuke's blunt question interrupted her confusing thoughts. "Did you make this?"
She turned back to him, surprised. "The soup? Yes."
He blinked. "Your cooking skills have not improved."
Sakura was aghast. Her jaw actually dropped as surprise flooded through her. First, that he would make unnecessary conversation. Second, that he would offend her by suggesting her home-cooked meal was worth so little to someone who had literally just been starving.
But then she took a deeper look into his matching onyx eyes and all but wilted at the sight of him. There was a wary gentleness about him, the sort she hadn't seen in a long, long time. Even when they were children it was rare, ordinarily reserved for the aftermath of near-death experiences.
He wasn't insulting her, but extending an olive branch. At first Sakura started to smile, but then, it finally hit her all at once: the euphoria of his return, his sincerity in the Valley of the End, his trust in her and only her to heal him, and then this playful commentary, as if they were still friends, still teammates. Still close.
This was no genjutsu. This was real.
Sakura teemed over with laughter. "That's fine," she said, grinning. "I have no problem admitting I spent my spare time training and studying instead of in the kitchen."
"Hn." It was no laugh, but it was a light, breathy exhale.
Sasuke was exhausted, though. He returned to his lying position on his own initiative, every movement appearing to be a struggle for his fatigued muscles.
Sakura took a steadying breath. "I'll have Kaka-sensei bring you more food and clean clothes so you can wash properly. Then I'll be back to redo your bandages tomorrow."
He offered half a nod.
Sakura stood, put all of her items back into Lady Tsuande's bag, and reluctantly left the cell. Though it was an unspoken concern that she had not put the blindfold back on, one look at her hardened glare, and neither of the ANBU protested.
Sakura wanted to say goodbye, but when she looked back over her shoulder to see into his cell, she was fairly certain Sasuke was already fast asleep.
.
.
.
It was a beautiful day to be outside, though she struggled to enjoy it as she would have in her younger years. There was a crisp breeze and only mild heat from the late afternoon sun. Sakura found a private place to sit atop a roof beside the hospital, meditating as the sun started its descent. She reminded herself she was safe, the village was safe, their home was safe. But she still couldn't make it a kilometer passed the familiarity of the hospital to convince herself of it.
It came as a surprise when Kakashi hopped onto the adjacent roof and asked to join her. "May I?"
"Of course, Kaka-sensei."
"Please," he corrected. "Kakashi."
She offered him a smile with no promises as he took the seat next to her. It was less out of respect and more out of a desperate need to cling to what normality still remained during this post-war chapter of her life. While Kakashi had mostly been absent during the time she trained under Lady Tsunade– the severe injuries she helped healed over the years suggested he rejoined ANBU, though he never confirmed it– he was at least a stable figure in her life. She always knew exactly what to expect, and what not to expect, from her old sensei.
"How are you feeling?" Sakura asked.
"As good as new."
She nodded, genuinely glad to hear it. "Thank goodness. You really shouldn't worry Naruto like that, you know," she teased. "It's the rest of us who have to deal with his whining."
"You weren't worried?" It was faux-offense and both of them knew it.
"No," she said plainly. "The last Icha Icha still has to be released. I knew there was no chance you would die before that."
That garnered a rare bark of laughter from him. She merely smiled back. If Kakashi sought her out, there had to be a reason. Likely not one that was apt to please her.
When he sobered, she had a feeling it was because he knew she was waiting for it.
"How's Sasuke?" Kakashi asked.
The warmth of her smile faded further. "He's going to be alright. He'll need to complete physical therapy, like Naruto has been doing, but as far as the physical healing goes, he's well. Now that he's eating again each day, his weight and muscle dexterity should improve too."
Kakashi hummed in approval. Then, evaluating her from the corner of his eye, he complimented her work.
"You are the only one he will allow to heal him. The only one who he listened to. He trusts you, Sakura."
She saw him wait for her to blush, grin, or even squeal with excitement, but the truth was that it required work to not let the muscles in her mouth turn downward. He wasn't fooled.
"I thought that would make you happy," he added quietly.
"It does." She was honest. "I worked so hard to be of value to this team. We all worked so hard to bring him home. I am happy that it mattered, that it's meant something, in the end."
There was more to it than that though. Kakashi didn't prompt her for more details, just sat beside her and held the space for her. Sakura wasn't sure that she wanted to share her honest thoughts with him. But she wasn't sure there would ever be anyone else she could share them to, either.
The words spilled out of her unbidden before she had the chance to properly consider it.
"I could be dead." Then she shook her head. "I should be dead. He tried to kill me, but now he's back, he's home, and he's apologized, and I believe him, I do. But it doesn't really change the fact that I should be dead."
Sakura swallowed the painful knot in her throat. "I could be dead, because of him, and now that he's here, he's only alive because he trusts me. His trust in me didn't falter. But my trust in him, …"
Well, that had shattered. Suddenly her unconditional love for Sasuke was not something brave and precious, but shameful. And if she couldn't trust him, then it wasn't really unconditional love, was it? She tormented herself as she circled through the same thoughts over and over again. There was no solution, no clarity, and no certainty that it even mattered.
Kakashi probably wished that he could reassure her, to be able to tell her that Sasuke would not have actually followed through with his attack. But he was there for it. That would have been a lie. Maybe that was the real reason she decided to share with him; it wasn't false hope she needed. False hope was always all she ever had. It was never enough.
"You know," Kakashi began, and something about his tone was so different than usual that she felt compelled to face him. He spoke with a lightness that bordered on reverence. "There was something private Minato-sensei told Obito about me and my family that I couldn't forgive him for at the time. Fate, it would seem, has found a way to bring things full circle. I understand now why he did it."
Sakura had never heard him speak openly about his old team before. Though uncertain where he was going with it, she remained patient and curious.
"There's something about the Uchiha Massacre that I could tell you," Kakashi said carefully. "It isn't my place to do so, but because you're on his team, I think you should know."
"The Uchiha Massacre?" She sounded tepid even to her own ears.
He exhaled sharply. "The truth about that night is an impossible weight, Sakura. A burden no Leaf shinobi should have to bear."
She knew a legitimate warning from Kakashi when he gave one. This was one of them.
Sakura paused for longer than she cared to admit. She had made observations with no context to put them in, gathered questions with no one to ask them to. This was her chance to understand.
But at what cost? Her inner self hesitated. This might be a price she couldn't afford to pay. She already felt like she had such limited currency left.
Kakashi, with all his time spent in the Black Ops, considered it an impossible weight. Naruto, who saw the best in everyone and loved Konoha more than anyone, defamed the village for it. And Sasuke— well, he was prepared to kill his old team and raze Konoha to the ground because of it.
It felt to her then that whatever it was, this thing that she did not know, was actually at the center of gravity for their team. A weak gravitation pull, something unspeakable keeping them together in a loose revolution. She was already at the outside of the orbit. Did she really want to stay in it?
She had spent the last few years without them. She adjusted to the oddity of being a shinobi without a team; learned how to study, train, eat, and all together exist without them. It was not only medical ninjutsu and The Strength of a Hundred seal she'd mastered, but how to be alone.
Sakura watched the sun as it slipped beneath the horizon. Light still remained, but soon that would fade too.
It was their original Team Seven photograph that came to mind then. How many countless nights did she spend sleepless with that frame in hand? Kami only knew the cumulative hours she'd spent looking at it. An embarrassing amount, she was sure. Yet there was one person in the photograph she never took the time to study.
Herself.
The little girl with round cheeks and an unfortunately large forehead. Two proud fists clutched together, ready to punch through the air. A smile that literally couldn't be contained, her lips parted from the outcry of excitement. Eyes squeezed tight with anticipation; images rapidly firing through her mind of everything good and right that was to come.
She had never been so confident of her future, of her place in it, as that split-second when the camera flashed.
Maybe Sakura was no longer certain that she could still be part of Team Seven. But if there was even the slightest chance that the child in the photograph could still have the future she had dreamed about, Sakura knew that little girl deserved to see it.
She deserved to see it too.
"If it's for Sasuke— if it's for our team— then I want to know." Sakura took a deep breath and turned to Kakashi. "Then I need to know."
With tired eyes and taut shoulders, Kakashi looked proud but pained to hear it. Sakura focused on the little girl in the photograph, on the sliver of hope that were was anything— at least something left— to save of that girl's dream. Her dream.
Then, Kakashi told her the truth. About the council's abuse of Uchiha Itachi as a double-agent; how the village sanctioned the massacre of the entire Uchiha Clan; that it was only an elder brother's love that left a lone survivor.
Sakura sat there listening, hands folded in her lap and head hung low, overloaded by the shock of these overwhelming stories. If they had been coming from anyone besides Kaka-sensei, she would have argued, refuted them, or protested. But to the core of her heart and depths of her soul, she knew these weren't lies. In a sick, terrifying way, it all made perfect sense.
It made terrible, terrible sense.
When Kakashi finished, when it had been silent for even longer than he had spoken, when it was so dark that the stars were the only light in the sky, Sakura began to sob.
.
.
The next time Sakura arrived to visit him to provide medical treatment, she was late. Sasuke noted immediately that she was tired and distracted— disinterested even. She wore civilian clothes, for one: a sleeveless forest green top, oversized cardigan and black leggings. Her Leaf headband was absent, her shoulder-length hair haphazardly braided. It looked messy, like she'd slept on it.
Sakura entered his cell, her medical bag loosely draped over her shoulder, but she didn't greet him as usual. In fact, it seemed as though she was avoiding him altogether.
Though it was a noticeable difference in her disposition, Sasuke decided not to question it. He knew it was only a matter of time before the joy of his return would transition into resentment that he'd left. Not to mention hatred for what he had done to her thereafter.
Now used to the routine, Sasuke sat himself up on the edge of the stone bench, making room for Sakura's medical bag to his side. When she placed it there and rummaged around in it, she continued to avoid looking at him.
Sasuke resigned himself to whatever hurling insults or punishment she planned to deliver to him.
"Are you still feeling alright? Still able to eat?" When Sakura asked, it sounded like strictly healer business as usual, but he noticed how her voice sounded hoarse, as if it had been overextended.
He didn't answer. There was a part of him that did it on purpose; to see if it would provoke her.
It worked, in part. She finally looked up to him.
There were puffy, dark circles under eyes; it confirmed his theory that she hadn't slept. Her emerald irises were surrounded by bloodshot vessels— that he knew. The rest of her physical features and most of her mannerisms might have changed, but not that. He knew what that was all too well.
She had been crying. By her overall disposition, Sasuke concluded she had been crying a lot.
"Yes," he answered.
She didn't question why, or even acknowledge, that it had taken him awhile to respond. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.
He continued to study her, but there was no way to decipher what was the cause of her angst. She busily ensured there would be no further eye-contact.
"Try to eat more each day. Your body should be able to sustain it now."
He didn't bother to nod. She wasn't watching for his response anyway.
Sakura did the rest of her work without saying another word. Sasuke looked for signs of animosity or bitterness, but he found the opposite. Her touches were lighter, more tender even, than from when she had worked on him during far more difficult procedures.
He saw it before he felt it. There was a tremor starting in her hands. It wouldn't have been noticeable at first, except he had been astutely watching her movements. Maybe it wasn't out of the ordinary, he rationalized. It wasn't as though he typically paid such close attention.
But what started with a slight tremor abruptly turned into shaking hands. With a gasp, Sakura dropped the gauze and shot upward. She turned away from him, standing in the corner of the room and forcefully still.
"S-sorry," she whispered.
He watched her from behind: shoulders bent as she hunched over, both hands taut at her sides, clenched fists. For half a moment he couldn't hear her breathing, until a sharp inhale through the nose confirmed his next half-formed theory. She was attempting not to cry.
Sasuke had never been good at consoling her. That was not something that had changed with age and time apart. If anything, the potential for that particular skill-set was buried in the dust somewhere in an old Orochimaru lair. He didn't even know what was wrong in the first place. All he knew was dropping gauze and taking a pause was nothing to be apologizing for, but he didn't think it was necessary to say as much.
After another moment, Sakura released her fists and came back to his side, once again averting her gaze. She found a new, clean roll of gauze from her bag and finished bandaging the stunted limb. No new tears had sprung.
"Is there anything else?" she asked, clearly sounding like she wanted to leave.
Sasuke didn't answer. Curiosity– and if he was honest with himself, an uncomfortable notion of dread– got the better of him.
He leaned down, and with his one good arm he picked up the gauze that had fallen. He lifted it, not offering it back to her, but holding it beside him. Sasuke looked at her until she was forced to look at him.
Sakura clenched her teeth. He could almost hear her forced compulsion to prevent from sobbing: do not cry, do not cry. It wasn't like her to do that.
Well.
He supposed it was exactly like her to do that.
Sakura busied herself. She tucked loose strands of hair behind one ear, and then the next. She rearranged the medical bag on her shoulder. It was obviously bad news. The sort of news she did not want to be the one to deliver to him.
"When we were kids, I rolled my eyes when Naruto swore he would become the greatest Hokage," she started.
He was right. Bad news. Immediately, Sasuke wondered if something fatal had happened to Naruto. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to finish the delivery.
"But now I know with certainty that he will be." She was utterly confident, but absolutely sad.
Realizing the dobe was fine, Sasuke loosened. But that was his mistake. He let his guard down and her next words blindsided him.
"Naruto would never do something like what the Third did to your family. He would have found another way." Her voice broke and she abruptly stopped.
For a split second, pain seared through him. Her reminder lit a fire to every nerve-ending he had, it burned him alive. It wasn't as though the village's betrayal and Itachi's sacrifice wasn't on his mind: it was often the only thing on his mind. But Sakura's visits had become the only time he could distract himself from an endless cycle of tumultuous thoughts.
Her choked words were spoken with as much injustice and vehemence as he felt— as he had felt alone. There was no use of Obito's Sharingan, but it was the same as the last time she'd transported into a dimension he was certain he existed in alone: from an outsider's oblivion, then straight into his own private Hell.
When he recovered from the brief flare of shock, smothered the flames of pain that threatened to kill him by means of immolation, Sakura was staring determinedly at the dirtied gauze in his hand. Her darkened emerald eyes were sharp as a kunai.
She sighed, then reached for the gauze with trembling fingers and carefully took it from his slackened grip. He looked down. His hand was shaking, too.
"This time, Sasuke-kun, you're not seeking vengeance on your own."
Then she left.
.
.