Shippuden was supposed to be next, but this chapter originally began as a small part of it that quickly grew out of hand.

Next chapter in the next few days. Happiest of holidays to everyone xox

-Vivi

Still, we will let all this be a thing of the past, though it hurts us...

The week following Han's death was a surreal one.

Sakura had not been coddled in years. Long before she'd run away from home, her mother had insisted on Sakura packing her own lunches, and only came to wake her if she was extremely late for something extremely important. Trainings with Team 7 often left her sidelined to figure things out on her own, and Orochimaru's strict schedule was far from an easy life.

Now, though, as she recovered her chakra reserves and slowly nursed her lingering migraine and nausea, Itachi took it upon himself to serve her meals, her tea, and other such things like helping her to her feet and keeping his ever-watchful eyes on her each time she sighed or made a small grunt in pain.

Where typically she would gather herbs and grind them in a rudimentary fashion against her palm—her method of crafting all sorts of pills from Itachi's weekly medicinal concoction to genjutsu-applying pill-shape weapons—Itachi took immediately to gathering things in her place.

It was only a few mornings after she'd woken from Tsukuyomi, the sun not quite yet risen. As she watched him stooping at the treetrunks and shrubbery surrounding their camp, she understood: this was his way of apologising, of making up for the part he'd played in that horrible day.

He approached with an easygoing air about him, kneeling at her side in the low light of dawn.

"You need more sleep," he said, organizing his small haul on the dirt in the space between them.

It was one thing to silently lend his help, but she wasn't particularly fond of being so boldly told what was best. "I'm fine," she assured, jerking her head down at the tiny pile of herbs. She spied spikenard blooms and roots, honeysuckle shoots, various parts of a thistle plant, and even a ginseng root. The trimmings were done with care, but not necessarily professionalism. "I didn't even tell you what to look for."

At that, his smile was small and handsome. "I pay attention."

Impressive, for sure, but she couldn't resist the urge to teasingly press his knowledge. "Go on," she said with her own smile. "Make me something."

His pause was brief, almost imperceptible, before he let out a quiet chuckle and lifted a finger, touching the yellowed stems of the spikenards before placing one of its roots in the palm of his hand. He pressed his thumb to it, shooting a small burst of chakra through to begin forming it into a paste.

"I don't know its name," he murmured, "but I've seen you use this in my medicinal pills."

"It's dokkatsu," she answered, not bothering with its scientific classification. "The flower's edible, and the roots help with fevers and inflammation. You'll destroy it with how much pressure you're applying, though."

He hummed. "Perhaps I should've paid attention with the Sharingan, if the technique is so precise."

Without thinking, she leaned over to gather more roots. Just as she splayed her palm and made to begin drying them with chakra, Itachi placed his free hand over hers.

"No demonstration required, at least not until you're feeling better. An explanation will suffice for now." He slid his fingers onto her palm, scooping the roots into his own. "So, less pressure?"

"Yeah." She swallowed, fighting her blush. "You want to be firm but not aggressive. Plants are in this middle ground of being incredibly resilient but also delicate."

"Is Orochimaru's thumb as green as yours?"

"Sort of, but I might have an advantage. I had a friend back in Konoha," she explained, "whose family ran a flower shop. I knew way too much about plants even before I ran off with the old creep."

"It's a useful hobby," he said with a small shrug. "Lifesaving in the worst of circumstances."

She glanced up to watch him curiously as he concentrated on grinding down the roots onto his skin. There was a slight crease between his eyebrows, small but noticeable, and a small dimple near the side of his mouth as he worked.

Feeling bold, she reached out to touch him once more, covering his hand with hers. She felt for his chakra, recognizing a surprisingly competent healing flow.

"Don't look so surprised," he said lightly. "I'm sure that I mentioned I know the basics of healing."

She thought back, remembering. "That a requirement in ANBU?"

He gave an affirming grunt. "They stress the importance of being able to heal as we go."

"That's a surprise," she shot back playfully. "Kaka-sensei kept getting pretty beat up on all of our missions."

"I imagine it's difficult to have the time for healing when you're tasked with the lives of three unruly genin."

"Naruto and Sasuke-kun, sure. I did my best to stay out of the way when I knew I couldn't help."

"You were just as unruly as the two of them."

She raised a suspicious brow, pursing her lips at him. "You sound awfully sure of that. Less chakra, by the way. You don't want to overload and fry the natural properties of the root."

He did as instructed, and she didn't miss that he glanced to where Kisame slept before turning his attention back to her. "Among our strongest suits as shinobi is the stealthy collection of information. For a time, I kept an eye on things in Konoha as closely as I dared."

"Oh?" she wondered aloud. "For the boss, or your own interests?"

"I assume Pein is aware that I deeply miss my brother," he said matter-of-factly. "When I offered to spy in on Konoha, he allowed it as a courtesy, I'm sure. It's of mutual benefit to the Akatsuki and to myself."

Inner had been silent for most of the morning, but she stirred at that. If you miss him that much, she sneered, wonder why you haven't gone back to see him.

The sunlight had finally broken over the treeline, but Sakura shivered. He's a missing nin, she reasoned back at Inner—who didn't bother to justify that with a response. It didn't take a genius to realize just how suspectit was for him to be so absent from Konoha, but Itachi, no matter how sinister or aloof he could be, was gentle. Sometimes he was even funny and lighthearted.

Most of all, though, he was kind.

"You're talking to yourself."

She was wide-eyed in an instant, looking up at him in slight shock. She'd forgotten to add exceedingly perceptive to that list of his qualities. "Excuse me?"

His hearty laugh was startling. "Someone else is there with you, isn't there? I had the pleasure of meeting her."

"I—" It was one thing that Orochimaru had somehow figured out about her inner self, but Itachi? How mortifying...!

And worse, Inner had no quips to shoot back at that.

"No need to be embarrassed."

"It's not...just that." She couldn't deny how flustered she'd become, anyway. "It's...she's just been quiet ever since, um, the other day." It hadn't even been a full week, and the memory of Han's death still felt like her heart was one big gaping wound.

Momentarily he considered, slowing his thumb. The scent of the crushed roots was potent between them, and she crinkled her nose in equal parts at the rich smell and her frustration. The morning birds had woken, singing loudly and carefree out somewhere in the distance.

"Allow me to make it up to you."

She shifted, eyeing him from her peripherals.

"In the Tsukuyomi," he went on, "your mind will be linked to my own. Perhaps we can discover if something has happened to your inner manifestation, and take appropriate action."

Was such a thing possible? Was it even necessary? Orochimaru had hypothesized—and so far, he'd been correct—that her inner voice was a real thing, separate and dormant within her, exacerbated by his cursed seal. A giddiness coursed through her that she hadn't felt since her days in the laboratories of the estate, and she couldn't shake her growing interest at such a prospect, nor shake how amazing it felt, even after all this time, to be treated with such consideration. "You really think we'd find anything?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. But if it's of importance to you, it's worth a try."

Her still-throbbing headache pounded, and despite his kindness, all of her alarm bells sounded off at once. The thought of entering such a genjutsu again was intimidating, her blood pressure rising. Though her memory of it was scrambled, the feelings of dread had lingered in spite of his attempts to erase it.

And why had he tried to erase it?

"It won't hurt," he assured as if he were already inside of her head. "I can promise you that."

But she felt his lips against hers, wondering where exactly her greatest apprehensions lie.

Itachi is kind, she chanted, reminding herself that if he wanted her dead, she wouldn't be here right now. He'd had every opportunity and more. Itachi is kind.

When she looked up into his eyes, the only thing she could see was that kindness in those ink-like depths looking back at her. Then the blackness began to spin, woven through like blood swirling down a drain, three pinpoints of black circling around the center. Her gaze had been her consent, and before she could swallow in her mounting anxiety, it was dark.

Then the sky was that sickly red, and there was a horrifying split second in which Sakura thought that it would stay that way. There were buildings and trees sprouting from the horizon, silhouetted a black so deep that it may have simply been void. But in the single moment she blinked, the scenery transformed and they stood beneath a streetlight in the nighttime streets of Konoha. Somehow she knew that this was not where they'd kissed, but...

I know you want me to be afraid.

Sakura could feel her other self for only a moment before the connection fractured, and a shattering like glass sounded in her mind. So Inner was not dead or gone, and had roused enough to give Sakura a warning before slinking off unseen.

"I hope this is all right," Itachi said then. She spun to face him, blushing harshly at what she saw: there he stood in an ANBU uniform, his mask hanging casually on the side of his head. "I can bring out the sun, but I know your head is still sensitive to light."

She bit her lip once to keep from stammering. "It's fine like this."

To her confusion, he gestured to the road before them. "Shall we?"

"We can't—push for chakra, or something?"

"Her signature matches yours exactly. Stay by my side, and I'm sure to feel her the moment we're near."

They walked in silence, the Konoha of Itachi's mind so empty that it frightened Sakura.

"I remember the village being lively, even at night."

"Oh?" He glanced down at her. "Typically I catch enemies in this genjutsu unawares. It takes a great deal more effort to fill in the details that make it believable. As you're a willing participant, I thought I'd be able to skirt the finer touches."

In an instant a bustling crowd had appeared around them, so realistic that they jostled Sakura as they brushed and bumped past her. The dull roar of so many voices was foreign after so many days and nights spent in quiet company, and she nearly reached up to cover her ears like a child. The only suspicious thing—and she wondered if she would've noticed if she didn't know better—was that they carried Itachi's chakra signature, each and every one of them; just the faintest trace, but there.

"One of the few things I ever got recognition for back home," she said, "was genjutsu. I studied it for years with Orochimaru, but this is..." There were really no words for how convincing an illusion it was, and that all he needed was simple eye contact?

"Indeed, it's as I recall, as well."

She'd nearly forgotten already his admittance to spying on Sasuke—and by proxy, spying on her. She thought back on how he'd shifted his glance to Kisame, as if to ensure he was still fast asleep, but her musing was interrupted by another display of just how powerful the Tsukuyomi was.

"We can speak freely here," Itachi said plainly. It was as if her thoughts were not her own at all, everything there in her head exposed to him. Against the lively crowd he took her hand, pulling her along the streets. "Kisame will try to kill me, I'm sure, if he ever discovers my true feelings."

"Try, huh?"

That handsome smirk again graced his face as he squeezed her hand. "He can't kill me. In any case, I kept watch over Sasuke for some time after the massacre," he went on. "Of course, his chosen teammates were of particular interest to me. Admittedly I wasn't quite impressed by you until I saw you jump to his defense there in the forest."

"The forest?" She thought back hard, but Itachi placed in her mind images from her chuunin exams. She could see herself, wide-eyed in terror as Orochimaru stood with his eyes locked on Sasuke. Of course, the Forest of Death! It seemed like an eternity ago already. "But how did you...?"

"Crows," he said. "My bonded summon. I have eyes in many places, thanks to them."

She could've smacked herself for being so ignorant. Just what was the scope of this guy's power?! "So that's how you knew my name was in the bingo book, and—"

"—how I knew Orochimaru did not take you by force, correct."

They took only a few more steps before she could feel Inner's spark of anger rise within her, beyond her control. "But if you were there—at our exams, why didn't you step in? Sasuke-kun..." His screams echoed in her mind, those stark black marks spreading across his flawless skin. And even now, though she knew just how ruthless the curse seal's activation made her become, she had to fight from shivering at the memory of Sasuke's anger. She yanked her hand from his brother's, her brows furrowed as she gestured all around her. "You could've stopped this all from happening!"

Itachi had turned to face her, his expression calm and understanding even against her growing rage. "It was beyond my capacities to intervene. Even if I could have, it would've been more trouble for Sasuke than I was willing to risk."

"You—" Well, shit, she couldn't argue that. And if she could, it wasn't like she had all the details of what he'd meant by that exactly. The idea of prying into something like that sunk her heart with guilt, and she pursed her lips to disengage from the topic.

He held up his index finger, pressing it against his lips. "As long as you don't tell Kisame."

"That supposed to be a threat?" she asked with a light laugh.

"Something like that. Come." He did not take hold of her hand again, and the crowd slowly disappeared from around them as he walked on ahead. She followed silently, trying not to think of anything in particular for fear of being heard. All she could settle on, though, was Itachi, this man—no, this boy, and how deeply he confused her. With every new bit of information she uncovered, he seemed to be shrouded in more and more mystery. Between Kisame, Konoha, Sasuke-kun, and what'd happened in this realm the first time...

As they crossed beneath the an gates, she thought again of how he'd stooped and pressed his lips to hers. A warm breeze tousled her hair, and she watched as it caught his flowing ponytail. The trees in the looming forest rustled in a familiar way that nearly made her homesick, and quickly she came to the conclusion that it was less embarrassing to speak her mind rather than let him pry into her thoughts.

"Oi," she said. "Do people usually forget what happens here?"

"In the Tsukuyomi? Not unless the user wills it."

They'd made it to the moonlit treeline, and her burning question had left her before she'd had the time to stop it. "You didn't want me to remember that you kissed me?"

She did not know if she was hurt by that. She did not know if she was angry about it, or whether she felt violated by it, taken advantage of. And she surely did not know Itachi's intentions, or how he'd felt about any of it, either. But he stopped dead in his tracks, and she swore she could feel the world tremble beneath her feet, a deep thrum in the air as if his grasp on the illusion had faltered for a flash of a moment.

"How much do you recall?"

"Bits and pieces," she admitted. "It's hazy. I just know what Inner held onto."

There in the dark he shook his head once, the movement slight. When he again turned to her, there was a look on his face that she could not quite name.

"Itachi," she breathed, "do you want me to be afraid of you?"

"On the contrary," he said in protest, "you fascinate me. But if that is your instinct, I won't pretend it's misplaced."

"At least tell me why you did it." To scare me?

He kept his expression carefully blank, his pinwheel eyes staring straight into hers. "Do you fear intimacy?"

"No." She thought of Karin at once. "Do you?"

"I crave it," he responded readily, the rawness of his answer shooting her through with a yearning so intense that it ached. "For forcing it upon you in a genjutsu, I apologise."

Her voice when next it came was a whisper, despite her boldness. "If that's what you need, then do it properly next time and ask me. You're stupid if you think I'd say no."

"Then I have a question for you."

Time flowed strangely in a genjutsu not of her own making, and Itachi's power was so overwhelming that in the next instant her back was against one of the mighty trees in the forest just outside of the village. It was so dark that she could see a faint glow to his Sharingan eyes as he looked down at her, one of his arms braced above her head.

Just before he brought down his hand to stroke her face, he stiffened.

"As pleasant as it'd be to linger, I must remind myself that we're not here for my benefit." He smiled softly, shutting his eyes briefly. "And I believe our search has come to its close."

As he turned, she followed his gaze to the forest floor. Lying there between the colossal trees on her stomach was the stark black form of Sakura's inner self. She nearly recoiled, the similarities so exact that it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, seeing herself lying unconscious on the ground.

Then again, she supposed that was exactly what this was.

"She managed to strangle me last time," he said with a trace of humor in his tone. He knelt, gently shifting her so she lay on her back. "I was a fair bit more prepared this time to incapacitate her without it effecting you, as well. I'm no medic, but she simply seems to be as exhausted as you are."

"Shit," she hissed under her breath. She closed the short distance, kneeling down beside Itachi to look at the figure there. Seeing Inner as something tangible was so bizarre after so many years of her being a mere figment of Sakura's imagination, and if she were honest...

"I really just thought I'd gone insane," she said, laughing incredulously.

He said nothing as he bent at the waist, slipping his hands underneath her to hold her in his arms. As his eyes met hers—the real her—she heard his unspoken questions and curiosities, their minds linked. What is this? Who is she? Do you even know?

"She's...my protector." Her voice was shaking, just a bit. "When everyone kept leaving me behind"—she thought of Kakashi and Naruto and Sasuke, and squeezed shut her eyes when she thought of Ino and Karin—"and when I left people behind, too, the only person I could rely on was me. If she was arrogant, I wouldn't need to be. If she was angry, I wouldn't need to be. I could be perfect, and maybe people would care enough...not to..."

Inner's shadowed body hung limp in his arms; still he said nothing even amid her unfinished sentiments.

"But that's...stupid. It doesn't make any sense, does it?" She forced a smile at him, desperate to seem collected.

"The people we pretend to be," he said after another long pause, "are still us, in a way. She is you. And to that end, you are her."

She stared into the nothingness of Inner's features, thinking. From Kakashi to Orochimaru to the Akatsuki members she'd met so far, she should be used to men who spoke in such cryptic words.

"Perhaps as your confidence grows, her presence wanes."

She'd said as much to her old master, hadn't she? That she would not choose between her kindness and her ruthlessness. I'll feed both. She hadn't stopped to consider that by taking that middle path, her inner voice would become her own. Not a loss, necessarily, but a merging.

So why did that prospect, the very thought of letting go of that inner voice, feel so utterly lonely?

"Loneliness is something with which I am well acquainted." Itachi's address of such a vulnerable thing made her shiver. He stood slowly, motioning with his head for her to do the same. "It's difficult, I know, to part with someone who's carried us through so much."

He held out his arms, extending Inner to Sakura as if in a sacred ritual offering. She reached out her trembling hands, taking her other self carefully as her hands brushed against Itachi's. Inner was not light but was not heavy, and to hold her so close felt not like arrogance or anger, but peace.

"But even when that day comes," Itachi concluded as the world around them began to shatter and fade, "you will not be alone."

He could have meant anything, anyone. He knew all about Kakashi, Naruto, and his brother; she'd told him about Ino, and his mind had been connected to hers as she thought about Karin's teeth grazing across her hipbones. Behind the high collar of his embroidered cloak he would smile as she and Kisame bickered like brother and sister, and he knew without the need to ask that her strength came from her desire to protect and preserve all of those bonds.

But somehow, even as she felt her stomach flip as if falling, she knew that Itachi had been referring to himself.

Back in the real world, she did not have the courage to ask. His hands were still sticky with the ground roots mixed with his chakra, and she took in a deep breath, letting the slight bitterness of the aroma fill her nose, her throat, her lungs. The sun had risen a good deal more, their time spent in the illusion no more than thirty seconds at most. Forgoing any direct words, she merely reached out her hand to cover his. It was the least she could do, return the favor he'd just done for her.

"Here—let me show you how to make this into something useful."