A/N: late and zero fucks given, I truly have no idea what's going on in this fic anymore lmfao. No edits we die like men I say as if I'm not going to look over this in the morning and edit it lmfaoooo.
I don't own Naruto.
"This is reprehensible," Itachi says, wrinkling his nose in the most Uchiha-approved way possible. He moves to pick up the mug in question, flinching when a kunai zips through the air and embeds itself in the wall. "Sakura-san is going to be mad."
"Don't touch the mug!" Shisui exclaims, pushing his cousin into one of the seats on the visitor side of the desk and fretting over the mug. Itachi watches in complete silence as Shisui twists and turns the mug until the handle is exactly in the position it was before.
"There is mold growing in that, Shisui."
"It kinda reminds me of your lungs from when you had the fucking bubonic plague. Remember that? I do."
Itachi scowls, but internally, because he doesn't have the facial muscles to do that externally. "Entirely your fault, may I remind you. If you had listened to me regarding-"
"Itachi," Shisui cuts him off, paling so rapidly he briefly wonders which of his arteries have been severed, pointing to a spot on Sakura's desk between the apple core on its way to achieving sentience and a pile of dead pens. "Where did it go?"
"Sakura-san's sense of cleanliness and order went with her to Kumo, if that is what you are wondering."
"No, the shuriken! There was a shuriken here, where did it go?"
Now that he looks closer, there are two little nicks in the wood exactly 4.95 inches apart…
"Perhaps she took it with her to Kumo?" Itachi suggests.
"No way she took it with her to Kumo, one of the points is broken off and the rest of it is chipped to shit." Darkness falls over Shisui's face; for a second Itachi swears his Mangekyo swirls to life. This either means somebody is going to die, or somebody is going to wish they were dead, and judging by how Shisui's hands are twitching towards his ANBU-issued tanto it's probably the former.
Itachi sighs, rubbing his temples to ward off the impending headache. They'd just hit a new 'no terrorizing people with the Tsukiyomi' streak, too.
"Alright!" Shisui slams his fist into his open palm, eerily determined. Itachi takes a second to wonder what atrocities he'd committed in a past life to get Shisui as a cousin. Having to put up with his insane whimsies is retribution for war crimes. It has to be.
"We're gonna find the shuriken! I'll make it a mission! No, better yet, I'll file it under the Police Force, so this way we have exclusive rights over the mission!"
"Shisui, you have a hospital to run."
"I'm Shunshin no Shisui, you think I can't do both? Anyway, you can't order me around, Plague Boy. I'm your superior. Hey, ow, Itachi! We agreed, no Amaterasu in the hospital, dammit, stop burning off my eyebrows!"
"Is Konoha too poor to equip their shinobi with new tools? Or do they have you reuse damaged weapons until you die due to lack of oversight?"
Sakura doesn't look up from where she's running her blot test, instead waving to the stool next to her. "Why don't you take a seat, C? I'm sure your ass is doing just fine after treatment from the Kumo medics."
C doesn't take the proffered seat.
"I think I'll stand, thank you. Can't be growing compliant in the presence of a Konoha dog," C sneers.
"That's Konoha bitch, thank you," Sakura replies primly, measuring out the appropriate volume of ethidium bromide for staining. There's nothing more satisfying on this planet than running a perfect gel. Nothing. Not even getting Naruto to eat his vegetables, or getting Kakashi to voluntarily come in for his check-ups. The latter has never happened but when it does in her dreams she wakes up very fucking happy.
Her eyes flick to the damaged shuriken embedded in her desk. Okay, well, there is one thing more satisfying than running a perfect gel, but she'll have to wait a month to experience it first-hand.
If Tsunade's reports are anything to go by, Shisui's doing a bang-up job of running the hospital. His response times are record-breaking, patient satisfaction is the highest it's ever been, and the newbies are learning all sorts of diagnostic short-cuts under his careful Sharingan. Sure, he mouth-pipettes (what did she say - that's right) and teaches newbies to make aerodynamic kunai out of their paperwork and apparently once gave himself a shot of B52 just to see what would happen, but otherwise things are going great.
But Sakura knows better. Her soul-mark - a delicate black feather etched into her sternum - tingles throughout the day, burning Katon-hot when she turns in for the night. Shisui's doing okay on the surface, but this is the first time since their marks showed that they've been separated longer than a week. She wonders if his soulmark, a twin to her own that lies on the nape of his neck, burns in the middle of procedures when she misses him (and she misses him often). Shisui deals with his emotions much the same way she does: masking them with something much more socially acceptable until he's alone to break.
They both break under the cover of the moon. At least that's one thing uniting them countries apart.
So, yes, Shisui's doing great just like Sakura's doing great.
Sakura shakes her head, holding up her gel and frowning. Why the hell is it so streaky?
C guffaws. "Haruno, did you seriously try and run a Southern blot on RNA?"
"Oh, gosh, C, you're right. Maybe I should go burn the gel. Would you like to come watch or do you need to recover from last time?"
Getting Kakashi to attend his monthly checkup involves the combined efforts of Itachi and Shisui, their summons, several illegal jutsu, and one of the most finicky genjutsu either of the two have ever had to bullshit last minute.
How does Sakura do this every month? How?
"Maa, are you done, Shisui?"
"No, why do you ask, Kakashi?"
"Because you've got that look on your face. The one that says 'I'm thinking about Sakura', so I assume you're done," Kakashi explains.
"Kakashi, when will you figure it out? I'm always thinking of Sakura," Shisui says unabashedly, running the Mystical Palm over Kakashi's Sharingan. He loses himself in reducing the inflammation of the optic nerve while his mind wanders to cloudy skies and pink hair.
What's Sakura up to? Her letters are short and messy and Shisui might not be a Nara, but he is still an Uchiha so he can read between the lines. She's miserable, the weather has her hair looking like his, C won't stop trying to get her to start another war, whatever virus they're trying to develop a treatment for is keeping her up at night, and she misses him.
That last part isn't between any lines, but the way his neck is tingling right now says it all.
"Hey, Kakashi, you haven't been in Sakura's office lately, have you?" Shisui asks suddenly. While he's notorious for being attached to Sakura's hip like one of her weapons pouches, Team 7 is notorious for invading everything she even remotely considers sacred, up to and including her office and the locker she doesn't really use for anything other than emergency snack storage. Maybe they've seen the shuriken - or taken the shuriken, which means he may or may not have to commit a little homicide.
"Shisui, you and Itachi had to assault-"
"This doesn't meet the technical definition for assault," Itachi pipes up from the corner where he's reading today's paper.
"It absolutely does, anyway you both had to assault me to drag me to the hospital. What makes you think I come here of my own volition?"
Shisui shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I dunno, but the shuriken on her desk is missing and I need to find it."
"Have you considered that she took it with her to Kumo?"
"That's what I said," Itachi mutters.
"Shut up, Plague Boy. Anyway, she wouldn't have. It...means a lot."
Kakashi blinks owlishly. "Shisui, if this is the shuriken I'm thinking of, then, politely, what the hell."
"You don't understand our love," Shisui bemoans.
"Oh, look, Shisui. I told you investing in those stocks last week would pay off," Itachi says. "An entire three point increase."
Kakashi is very upset to find that there's no self-administered morphine drip this time.
Sakura is on a warpath. There's nothing particularly special about that because Sakura goes on a warpath about three times a day, but she's on a warpath in Kumo, and since they're not used to seeing her stomp down the hall with hell hot on her heels it's understandably a little alarming.
"Where's my shuriken," she grits out, coming to a stop next to C, who looks down at the cracks her footsteps left on her way over derisively.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment," he sniffs, flipping through the file in his hands. Sakura goes on her tippy-toes (yes, she's five-foot even and yes, she does this often) to peek at the charts. She manages to catch a glimpse of the term 'colchicine poisoning' on file before C snaps it shut, but by the time he opens his mouth to admonish her, she's got her hands on the patient's torso, clearing out the poison.
Cocking her hip, she meets C's cold gaze defiantly. "Shuriken."
"This feels great," the patient says dreamily, "Wow, your chakra is soothing…"
C scowls. "One of the trainee medics might have thrown it out given it's garbage. How am I supposed to know?"
"C, if we don't find that shuriken by the end of day today, I have about three neurotoxins I reverse engineered that need testing. I don't have a cure on hand, so you'll serve as my guinea pig for that," Sakura threatens.
"I'll be your guinea pig if it means you keep this up," the patient says. C jacks up the morphine drip until the patient is really out of it; Sakura should protest because ethics and patient care and drug crisis and about a million other things, but she's seething and her chest hurts.
"Fine. We'll look for your stupid shuriken. One condition."
"Name it."
"You stay here an extra two weeks."
Sakura doesn't hesitate as she says, "Done."
I'll be here for an extra two weeks, something came up. Also, stop calling Itachi 'Plague Boy', he's very upset about it.
Love you.
"What's got his panties in a twist?" Genma asks.
"Sakura's shuriken is missing. Oh, and she's also in Kumo for an extra two weeks," Itachi answers, flipping through the sudoku booklet Mikoto got him as part of a 'get-well-soon' package' that included crossword puzzles, a book on calculus-based shurikenjutsu, and a colour-by-numbers.
"Oh, gross, she's stuck there even longer? I wonder what came up…"
"The virus they are dealing with is likely taking longer to deal with than anticipated is all."
"Or she started an international incident again."
"Equally plausible."
Shisui pops up from behind Sakura's desk, glaring at the both of them. "Okay, Plague Boy's here because he's basically an extension of my body at this point, but why are you lot here?"
"I'm avoiding paperwork," Genma volunteers.
"Bored," Naruto yawns. Beside him, Sasuke grunts in agreement. The both of them are on their fifth game of chopsticks, with Naruto in the lead.
Rolling his eyes, Shisui ducks back under the desk and resumes going through Sakura's trash can. It's not been changed in a week, so it's not like anybody came and got rid of the trash or anything - mind you, he would throw all medic vows out the window if they did - so it's probably in here. Maybe it got knocked in in her haste to pack?
"Dude, I'm telling you, she took it with her to Kumo," Naruto says sagely, beating Sasuke with a three-fingered tap to his two-fingered right hand. Sasuke snarls wordlessly, flexing all ten fingers again as they gear up for round six.
"Why would she take it with her to Kumo? It makes no sense," Shisui snaps, rummaging through the garbage. Founders, how much takeout does she eat? There are more receipts in here than he thinks he's seen in a year. He squints at one of them. Oh, wait, no, this was him, Sakura doesn't eat mushrooms.
"I mean, if she's half as possessive about it as you are then it stands to reason she took it with her." Sasuke wrinkles his nose, something that puts one of those 'I-don't-disapprove-but-what-would-father-say' looks on Itachi's face that is very easily mistaken for constipation. "She's sentimental like that."
"It's not - I'm not possessive, okay? That shuriken just…means a lot to us."
Yes, it's damaged and useless and a bit of an eyesore if he's being honest, but that shuriken is the only thing that survived their first ever fight, the one they had right after their marks appeared. Sakura had been so pissed - if he closes his eyes he can still see the Forest of Death reflected in the green of her eyes as she surged for him, fist glowing blue. In between a flurry of weapons and jutsu half-invented on the spot, Sakura told him.
She told him she was furious her choice in the matter had been taken from her; marrying one of the legendary scions of the Uchiha family meant that everything she'd worked for was going to be swept down the drain - she'd seen it happen with too many of her Clan friends and she was not about to let that happen when she'd had so much left to give the world.
Shisui - fuck, Shisui was also pissed because what the hell was she thinking? She's Haruno-fucking-Sakura and he's been half in love with her since before he knew her name, of the course the only thing he's going to do is stand next to her when his Clan inevitably tries to get her to settle down, it's not a choice. Breathing is more of a choice than watching her wither. He told her as much, and she didn't believe him until their surroundings were blown up and in flames and he dropped to his knees in surrender as that shuriken flew for his face.
Sakura caught it in one hand, snapping a point off, and the rest is history.
"And it obviously means a lot to her, which is why she took it with her. She's got a professional reputation to maintain so she can't bring photographs and the like to her lab, so it stands to reason that she took the one thing that was innocuous enough to remind herself of you," Genma says thoughtfully.
Shisui gets up from behind the desk, eyebrows shot up behind his forehead protector, as Itachi lowers his newspaper and Naruto and Sasuke pause their game to pin him with the most shocked expression either of them can muster: Sasuke's jaw even goes just the tiniest bit slacked.
"You all know I was rookie of the year for my year, right? And I did an internship with T&I when Ibiki was just starting up? I'm not an idiot." Genma crosses his arms defensively.
"You were rookie of the year?" Sasuke deadpans. "You?"
"I was on the Hokage Guard Platoon, do you think they take just anyone for that position?"
"Itachi's on Tsunade's platoon, so, yes."
Sakura-san, I write this letter only to ask that you tell Shisui you took that shuriken with you. He's been causing a slight uproar in the hospital, and I doubt Hokage-sama would appreciate having to step in if he goes through the incinerator on the job. Or at any point in time - Moegi-san is still, understandably, very traumatized.
Additionally, if you could continue to ask him to refrain from calling me 'Plague Boy', it would be greatly appreciated.
Kindest regards,
Itachi
Sakura toys with the broken edge of her shuriken as she reads the letter. It's late at night, much too late for anybody but herself to be in the lab, which means it's just late enough that her mark is burning and she's free to trace it with soothing chakra with nobody around to notice.
She'll have to write two apology notes tomorrow: one to C for making him dumpster dive for the shuriken, and one to Shisui for forgetting to let him know she took it with her. In retrospect it's downright embarrassing how she lost her mind when it went missing. She's representing more than just Konoha here; her own reputation is at stake, but all those thoughts went flying out the window when she came in to start her Northern blot and found the shuriken gone.
Sakura has very few material possessions she deeply values in her life, and none of them are particularly pricey or in good condition: the frayed red ribbon Ino gave her as a child; her first forehead protector, dented beyond repair from when she headbutted Orochimaru in the Forest of Death to save Sasuke; gloves covered in Sasori's poison; and this shuriken she holds close to her heart.
Yes, an apology note is in order.
Her mark tingles faintly in response. Come home.
The timer beeps, signalling the end of the Northern blot x-ray development. Sakura tucks the shuriken under her shirt - she's got it on a necklace now, no second chances - and heads for the dark room, wondering what Shisui's up to right about now. Probably annoying Itachi or ordering take-out with a 5:1 mushroom ratio or messing with her filing cabinet. Or maybe he's sleeping in their bed, hugging her pillow close and pretending it's her hair that he's got his nose buried in the same way she falls asleep in his shirts so she can imagine it's his warmth and scent wrapped around her.
His mark is probably burning Amaterasu-hot right now.
Sakura holds up the developed x-ray and groans, slamming her head into the wall so hard it cracks. No fucking wonder that asshole asked for an extra two weeks.
Mutated measles, really?
A/N: I was gonna make it mutated Marburg but here we are.
Vaccinate your kids btw.
Please review!
-Eien