Author's Note:

AHH I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!!!!!

Thank you for reading! XD

Life has thrown me a few curveballs that has made writing a bit more difficult and I wasn't able to update sooner--I'm so sorry!

It hasn't been beta'd yet, but it will be soon and I'll re-upload. :)

Stay tuned and I hope you all enjoy the whiplash trauma lolol.

As always, leave comments and such if you're enjoying it! They are the fuel to my writing fire and never cease to put a smile on my face when I need it the most.

Be safe out there!!

I awoke swimming in a groggy haze.

Forcing my eyes open, I groaned, shielding myself from the blinding sunlight beaming through the trees.

"Hey, kiddo!" Kisame chimed, undoubtedly watching my pathetic attempt to sit up. Per his teddy-bear nature, he gave me the help my ego wouldn't allow me to ask for, sitting me fully upright.

The blood pounded as it rushed away from my brain. Hissing, I sucked in a sharp breath and gripped my skull.

"Kisame, can you get my cloak, please?" I muttered through clenched teeth.

"Huh? Your cloak?" He replied, looking at me sidelong, not sure if I'd completely lost it yet.

"Yeah, my cloak," the medical scrolls tucked away in the pocket were my only hope.

The skin was practically melting off my body as I placed a clammy hand over my forehead. The heat might as well have burnt a hole in my hand.

This is some fucking poison, goddamn…

Headaches. Weakness. Fever. Chills. And, oh, fuck.

My control over the surges of nausea gave out. I half trip-sprinted over to the nearest bush and collapsed to my hands and knees to vomit up the charcoal infused water.

Cool fingers began gathering my hair, sweeping it away from my face in an effort to prevent it from getting caught in the crossfire.

After dry heaving a couple more times, I layed back onto the cool earth. A rough, cool palm pressed against my sweaty forehead, "You're burning up…"

"Poison…" I grumbled, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "That motherfucker poisoned me."

Itachi's gaze iced over. "What do you need me to do?"

"Sora-chan, I've got your scrolls." Kisame called out.

"I need those and–" another wave of nausea overrode my ability to speak as I dry heaved. Water. I needed water.

A hand came to rub gentle circles on my back as just what I was dying for was placed beside me.

Murmuring a thank you, I took the canteen and sipped, doing my best to resist the overwhelming urge to chug . It would only serve to make the nausea worse. Much worse.

Kisame's large hands slipped under my arms and scooped me up in one swift motion. I'd underestimated just how much bigger than me he was, and a lot more muscular . Everytime he carried me, I genuinely felt like a small child being carried to bed by their parents.

Setting me down like I was a piece of fragile china, Kisame layed out some scrolls beside me. "These ones, right?"

Groaning, I rolled to one side and glanced down to check that he'd grabbed all of the little green scrolls labeled 'poison'.

"Yeah, thanks Kisame." I shot him a weak smile, sitting up a bit more before unrolling one. A sudden presence behind me was accompanied by something wet and cold being placed on the back of my neck.

Itachi was trying to cool my raging fever. And it was a godsend against my flaming skin.

Biting a thumb, crimson droplets of contaminated blood fell onto the seals on the parchment. The poison identifying scrolls had saved me before, but they didn't contain every poison in the book. Especially not custom poisons.

Another gray seal, another negative test. And it was a safe bet that they would all show up negative, but even a subtle ripple of color could help me identify ingredients.

There was just one problem, I was the only person with the knowledge to be able to maybe identify whatever sadistic toxins were causing this shit storm of sickness.

And I was running out of time to be fully conscious and cognitive…

With an uneasy half-smile, I glanced up at my companions, "All right, are you two ready for the poison crash course of your lives?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," Itachi sighed, taking a seat beside me. I couldn't help but notice the way he was vaguely squinting while scanning the seals on the scrolls.

Does he need glasses or something?

The sudden onset of a harsh coughing fit was a painful reminder that I didn't have time to entertain the thought. The poison swirling around my bloodstream took priority.

After a sip of water, I did my best to clear the hoarseness from my voice. "This is one of Orochimaru's poisons. Which means it's potent . We don't have time to fuck around."

"My body temperature needs to stay down. No matter how much I beg, plead and shiver," I paused to cough again and reached for the scroll with a gold band—the rare poisons scroll, "no blankets. Okay?"

The crackling fire made me remember an old trick. "Right, the charcoal–" I thought aloud. "Could one of you please bring me a handful of charcoal from the fire?"

Kisame shot me a sidelong glance you would only give to a homicidal maniac as Itachi silently stood, scooping up a small amount of cool ash.

He carefully poured it in my hand. "You're hoping this will soak up the toxins, right?"

Cracking a smile, I nodded, unable to speak due to another raspy cough threatening to escape.

It was funny how Itachi mostly just confirmed things; the boy never asked questions he didn't already know the answer to.

Taking the charcoal from his hand, I picked out any large pieces and ground it up a bit more finely.

"Considering how high my fever is and how quickly the poison is migrating," I paused to try and clear my throat for the millionth time, "I don't know how long I'll be fully coherent, or even conscious, enough to give you two medical advice–"

The cough bested my ability to suppress it any longer. I stifled the hacking by shoving my face into my arm, spilling a good amount of charcoal as the fit wracked my body.

Thankfully, Itachi had already begun collecting more and grinding it up in his palm before mixing it with some water in a cup.

As I tried to calm my ragged breathing and finally catch my breath, Itachi held the cup up to my lips.

My nose crinkled at the off-putting smell of the concoction. With a sigh, I begrudgingly downed the liquid.

After making a disgusted noise at the gritty mixture sliding down my throat, I shuddered.

Kisame and Itachi exchanged some loaded glances before Kisame looked at me. "Are there any specific herbs that can help or somethin'?"

"Unless one of you happens to have incredibly rare herbs just on hand," I dropped a little blood onto the seal of my rare poisons scroll. "Then, no."

The change in the atmosphere was palpable with crushing unease. A pit in my stomach morphed into a bottomless abyss.

Itachi had something. Some medicine. Some rare medicine. My mind replayed the unpleasant memory of his odd circulation in the fingers constricting around my neck. The fatigue. The paleness.

I'd been right. He was sick. And he knew it.

The idiot was already taking something for it. Without breathing a word.

Why didn't he say something…?

My severe gaze fell to the Uchiha. "Give it to me. Right fucking now ."

He remained silent, unbothered as ever, averting my harsh glare like it was the plague. *That* somehow pissed me off all the more.

Overwhelmed by some mangled combination of hurt and anger, a hand shot out and entrapped the blood vessels in his neck.

Crimson fell like thick rain drops onto my bedroll from my thumb as I subtly curled my rigid fingers inwards.

"Woah, Sora-chan, take it easy," Kisame put a hand on my arm in an attempt to get me to lower my weapon. I'd already gone easy on him once.

Not this time.

He'd lied. To the fucking medic. Almost like he didn't even want my help.

Like he didn't want to even fix it.

Ignoring Kisame, I watched Itachi's eyes close before hacking a ragged cough. Something was definitely wrong with his circulation, which meant I'd need to examine him closer.

If I didn't fucking kill him first.

"I'm not fucking around, Itachi." I curled my fingers in a bit more. "You want me to make you get it?"

His eyes opened, revealing dark vermillion irises staring back at me. He let out another raspy cough.

"Sora-chan, let go and let him explain..." Kisame pleaded.

His skin and lips were growing paler by the second as my strength waned and my vision went fuzzy.

The sudden wave of nausea and pain rippling through my skull forced me to call it quits. For both our sakes.

My hand fell to my side like a heavy lead weight. But the defeat and anguish was somehow all the heavier.

In an attempt to quell the oncoming rush of nausea and dizziness, I nestled my head between my knees and took a deep breath.

Itachi let out a couple raspy coughs before clearing his throat to speak. "It's called kotaro."

"Kotaro, huh? And let me guess," I lifted my head a small bit to glower at him, "you're taking the unrefined version of it, aren't you?"

His silence was the only answer I needed. "You fucking idiot…" I scoffed, laying my head back in between my knees.

"What else am I supposed to do, Sora?" He growled, running a hand through his hair. "I need more time–time that I don't have. The illness is terminal."

Anguish washed over me. The deep breath I tried to inhale caught in my throat.

Terminal… no. No, it can't be…

This wasn't the time for this. I hugged my knees tighter as if my grasp on them might hold back the emotion threatening to spill over like an overflowing sink.

I knew he was sick. I knew it troubled him.

But I also knew why he hadn't asked me to help. He thought that he deserved to be sick due to the events of the past.

I bit my lip. I had so many things to say. Too many things to say… and yet, I was paralyzed—frozen silently clutching knees and pressing my damp forehead between them.

Unrelenting nausea hit me like a ton of bricks as I leapt to my feet and dashed behind the closest bush. My stomach needed to keep the charcoal down.

And being conscious was only making it worse. My head swam as I collapsed onto the cool grassy earth, a clammy, shivering mess of a human.

A cool rag dabbed the sweat from my clammy forehead, "Kisame, please get some more water."

But for as nice as it was, I didn't want his help. "F-fuck off," I managed to mutter through chattering teeth, giving a pathetic shove in an attempt to push away his hand.

"Sora, you can be mad at me all you want when you aren't poisoned. Okay?"

"N-no," I shoved again, a bit more forcefully, "j-just like you d-didn't want m-my help." I opened my eyes enough to glare.

"That's too bad," he responded while scooping me up into his arms. "I'm helping whether you like it or not."

Flailing my legs like a goon to break free only served to induce a coughing fit.

God damnit… I hated being so weak—at the mercy of anyone but my own self. That was not a place I liked to be.

And as much as I didn't want to admit it, I needed the help of the stupid Uchiha's Sharingan.

After almost crawling back to the bed roll, Kisame positioned something soft under my head. I blindly pawed for the sleeve of his cloak.

"Kisame," I choked out, unable to recognize my own voice, "t-the seal o-on that s-scroll, is it g-gray or black?"

He took a second before responding, "Black—so, what does that mean?"

I let out a long sigh, "This p-poison is something that r-requires an antidote with herbs s-similar to kotaro."

"Itachi, bring your pills over here."

I buried my fingers into his forearm. "Fuck that unrefined b-bullshit. The s-side effects are t-terrible."

"Side effects?" Kisame cocked a brow.

"Temporary blindness, extreme nausea, potential cardiac arrest, the side effects vary from person to person. The coarse form is the hardest on the human body," I paused to take a ragged breath, thanking my lucky stars that I was able to get the words out somewhat normally. "But it's the fastest acting, most effective form it comes in."

Don't forget how it can add years to someone's life.

A tense silence ensued, until the words swirling around in my mind tumbled past my lips, "You're extending your life for Sasuke, aren't you?"

More silence.

It was enough of an answer. And it made it clear that he'd come to terms with the illness being incurable.

That he was a dead man walking.

My nails dug into my palms, "And you didn't think to maybe ask the one person besides Senju Tsunade who could possibly help you?" I choked out before sputtering a cough.

"How could I shoulder you with th–"

"Oh, please–let me stop you there," I hissed, letting my eyes drop to my bleeding thumb. You do not dictate what burdens I do and don't bear."

Wait…

It was still bleeding. Why was it still bleeding?

What the fuck kind of poison is this?

Sighing, I cursed under my breath. I wasn't healing. Whatever insane poison this was, it was impeding my body's ability to repair itself…

This was very bad.

"What's the matter, Sora-chan?" Kisame put a hand on my shoulder.

My distraught eyes flicked up to meet Kisame's. Searing pain flooded my veins as if I'd been injected with concentrated acid. I bit my chapped lip to hold back whatever noise was about to burst from them.

"Are you sure there's not anything else we can do?" Kisame's steady grip on my shoulder was surely the only thing keeping me from curling up into the fetal position.

Taking a deep breath, I directed my gaze to Itachi. "Oi, Uchiha–" his painfully distant eyes met mine. He was one million miles away, a prisoner shackled by his own thoughts. I did my best to somehow sound half normal, a task I'd absolutely underestimated. "I need to borrow your s-stupid eyes…"

Shifting to face me, the icy glare thawed ever so slightly, upon seeing my increasingly sorry state—or maybe it was my desperation… I couldn't be sure.

Nodding once, his eyes flicked closed, then opened. The tomoe of the wheel spun like a whirlpool of black swirling in a sea of bright vermillion.

He squinted and moved a bit closer, scanning me up and down once. Twice.

The third time, they faltered a moment over my heart up to my neck.

The anxiety stole my sanity, "All right, spill the tea," I sighed, bracing myself for whatever bitch-slap of truth he was about to deliver.

His eyes fell closed as he sat down. "The poison has coagulated around your heart. It looks like it's leaching into your central nervous system."

Smokey obsidian eyes collided with clouded jade.

"Fuck…" Bitter defeat forced my head into my hands. I'd figured it was bad, but this was the worst case scenario.

"Will someone please tell me what the hell that means?" Kisame asked, sounding increasingly distraught.

My eyes landed on my still bleeding thumb. "Unless we get an antidote soon, I'm totally and completely fucked ."

"Wait," Kisame's brows crinkled, "what about your immunity to poisons? And your weirdly quick healing?"

Itachi directed his cold gaze to me, although I knew he already had a pretty good idea of what was happening.

Laying down to combat the sensation of my blood burning within me, I held up my bloody thumb. "I'm not healing. And I'm not immune to all poisons. Let alone one that's been custom made…"

Itachi came to kneel beside Kisame. "You should take the kotaro." That no nonsense tone had always done a pretty good job of covering up his concern. It was impressive, but not foolproof.

I gave him a weak smile, "No."

"No?" Itachi subtly cocked a brow, thoroughly unamused.

"You heard me," I muttered through a wave of pain strong enough to overcome the nausea roiling deep in my stomach. "I'm not taking that shit unless I absolutely have to."

"Which you do," Kisame poked my shoulder. I returned his gesture with an exhausted glare.

Remaining silently cursing the both of them for being right, I curled up into a ball as if hugging my knees would somehow ease the discomfort.

"Roll onto your back," Itachi commanded, his voice becoming garbled under the thundering of my pulse. Swimming in and out of consciousness, I did as he asked, feeling my head lull into his lap.

"This is going to be uncomfortable, but it will work the fastest and help the most." Before his words fully registered, drops of what could only be akin to battery acid were flooding my eyes.

After doing my best to blink away some of the discomfort, I sucked in a calming breath to take my mind off of my heartbeat growing erratic. Too erratic.

Even after the kotaro, it was steadily getting worse.

And there was one other thing that could help, but my dumb ass had forgotten to mention before now.

"Ugh…" reaching my hand up to grab Itachi's cloak took almost all the energy I had—each breath like moving mountains. "Eyes… your e-eyes…"

He knelt down to get closer. Although I saw his lips move, I couldn't make out any words as the weak legs my consciousness had been standing on began to collapse.

"E-eyes…" the rest of the words died in my throat. All I registered was the concerned faces of my partners as my hand dropped to the ground with a thud.

Itachi's perspective:

Her eyes rolled back as her body went rigid in a fit of convulsions.

"Fuck!" Kisame fretted under his breath.

It was troublesome that she was already seizing. It meant we were running out of time. And options.

"Turn her on her side—" I uttered before helping Kisame shift her quivering body to one side, being as careful as possible while moving her head into my lap.

"Okay, now what?" Kisame scanned our sick companion, wrought with worry.

"We need to cool her down, and let the seizure pass…" In an effort to break the tense eye contact, I swept a piece of damp hair away from her sweaty forehead and used the back of my hand to gauge her temperature.

She was burning from the inside out.

"Let's hope this works," Kisame muttered before drenching his entire cloak with a water style Jutsu and laid it over the top of Sora's trembling body.

Holding her head in my lap, images of cradling her head in the same position after the rock collapse popped into my mind.

But, at least there was something I could do about that. This was… different. Much different. I was almost powerless.

Almost.

As she began to relax, Kisame wiped a hand over his face. "Wait, so the whole eye thing—" he sat up a bit straighter, "she was talking about your Sharingan, right?"

I nodded. It was a simple temporary solution, yes. But temporary only meant buying time without solving the underlying problem.

Heat was radiating off of Sora's flushed cheeks. Her fever was skyrocketing.

We needed an antidote. And quickly.

But in the meantime, genjutsu was our best bet. The kotaro she'd taken clearly wasn't doing much.

With an exhausted sigh, I exchanged concerned glances with Kisame and activated my Sharingan.

I stepped out onto a never ending sea of lush grass, bright pink sakura blossoms danced with a gust of wind flowing through the rows of trees.

Not far off stood a small girl, punching and throwing elbows at the marred base of a large tree.

I was treading on dangerous ground. Although she was completely entrapped in the genjutsu, I hadn't yet created its parameters. Long story short, I was waltzing through Sora's memories.

And quite literally, blindly.

I knew I should've stopped, ended it right then and there.

But, I didn't.

Instead, I selfishly watched Sora's blonde hair glint in the sun as she leapt backwards, launching four shuriken into the bullseyes of some strewn out targets.

She threw her hands up in the air in triumph. "Yes! Ojisan, did you see that!?" She turned to face a quaint farmhouse just a ways off, a man smoking with a long wooden pipe nodded and smiled.

"Sora-chan, come get washed up for dinner!" A woman hollered from behind a screen door.

"Aww… five more minutes? Pretty please?"

The two adults exchanged glances before the woman sighed with a soft smile. "Five minutes."

After chiming a thank you, Sora continued training, unaware of the cloaked figures approaching the home.

The man stood from his chair on the porch, glowering at the people coming up the dirt drive-way. They exchanged some words before the woman appeared on the porch beside her husband.

They were irate, nearly shaking with anger.

The woman stepped down from the porch—her dark black hair reminded me of my mothers.

The cracking of wood from Sora's blows to the bark echoed against the thick forest, muffling the sound of bones cracking as six rods suddenly pierced through the woman's torso.

The man shot up, weaving signs and blew a decently sized katon at the cloaked group.

A pale palm extended outwards, absorbing the inferno in an instant. I'd never seen such a thing before, which was saying something.

The fireball caught Sora's attention. Her small eyes went wide in fear. The cloud of smoke dissipated and revealed her Ojisan on his knees, four chakra rods glinting in the setting sunlight.

Her Obasan lay face first on the earth, her head facing Sora. Her paling lips mouthed the words, "I love you. Run."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked a sob. The cloaked figures turned to face her. The one who'd sent out the chakra rods slowly pulled down their hood. A monk with piercings and a black marking on his chin glowered at the forest.

Stifling another sob, she whipped around and took off into the woods.

The memory faded into flashes of a thick, inky black void. Strange incubator type machines hung from the ceiling of a dismal concrete room. My heart skipped a beat realizing that there were other children floating in the dark liquid of the metal tubes.

On the floor below stood the monk and a man with white hair smoking a cigarette, staring up critically at the devices.

The memory suddenly shattered like a broken mirror.

Needles. Screaming. Cold metallic tables. Medical instruments more akin to torture devices.

I was in over my head. These were memories Sora had repressed so much that they'd fragmented like pieces of a shattered mirror. And it was easy to see why.

I'd dug too deep.

Then, a face I recognized came into view. It was Sasuke, puffing his small cheeks and blushing as Sora ruffled his spiky black hair.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. We'd thankfully moved on to memories that brought her joy.

But black cloaks and red clouds caught me off guard.

It was Kisame and me, standing beside the bloodied bodies of the two unlucky men who'd been charged with transporting her.

I was staring back at myself through her eyes, glancing down at soap and the clothes I'd given to her after the rock collapse.

Flashes of us training and cooking together.

Then, a face I didn't even recognize was smiling and laughing down at her in an onsen. It was my face.

Seeing myself happy had become utterly foreign.

That's when I realized, these were happy memories. Memories showing kindness and love.

The things she'd lost.

So many puzzle pieces fell into place all at once that my head spun on a swivel.

Choosing to refocus and shake it off, I concentrated on the details of the genjutsu.

Sakura trees rustled in the wind, much like they had in her memory. The girl liked nature.

Sora stood just a ways ahead, wisps of almost white blonde hair mingled ethereally with the petals in the breeze.

She spun around to face me, a sweet smile bloomed over her freckled cheeks.

"I knew you'd figure it out," she weakly chuckled, folding her arms over her chest. The smile suddenly vanished, "I seized up, didn't I?"

"You did…" my eyes fell as I took a step closer, "but the genjutsu will buy us some time."

She turned again to face the trees and took a breath, "Thank you, Itachi."

"Tell me what to do," I took another step closer, "besides trying to cool you down."

She shrugged and stared off into the distance, "To be honest, without an antidote, this is it." The flicker of a knowing hurt in her soft jade eyes hit like a punch to the gut.

The words replayed like a broken record in my head. She was embracing her fate with open arms.

Sora was giving up.

That scared me. She never tossed in the towel without at least trying . She couldn't…

She needed a reason to fight, and I was going to give her one.

"Sora, I-I'm sorry—" I reached for her hand, letting my fingers brush against hers. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to bear more sadness than you already do. But," I paused, feeling the weight of my words before even uttering them, "if you believe you could help, then I'll let you try."

"It's okay, I understand. But I wish you'd let me at least try to fix it…" Her brows knit together in anguish as her hand squeezed mine.

My eyes dropped to the green grass below her feet. Until delicate fingers lifted my chin, the hurt oozed from her demeanor. "You feel like you deserve this, don't you?"

Silence was my only response. Her eyes closed in defeat. The fingers interlaced in mine fell away as she turned around.

"Sora, wait—" I started, catching her hand, "I'll… let you try." After seeing what I had in her memories, all I wanted to do was give her some happiness.

She deserved that at the very least.

Her face lit up, "I'm holding you to that, Uchiha."

I chuckled, "I'd expect nothing less." A pink blush bloomed as I poked the center of her forehead.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something I thought I'd completely shed out in pieces along the damned path that I'd chosen—hope.

We had to find an antidote. Thankfully, I knew exactly who would have it.

It appeared that we would be paying Orochimaru a visit.