He couldn't decide where he wanted it. Left, right, left. And back to the right again. On and on, left-right left-right.

Indecisive.

Naruto brought his eyes right down to the level of the tabletop. He didn't want to read it. Not now, not ever. Never never never. He wanted to keep thinking of Sakura the way he had, the way she had always been. I want to freeze her, remember her like she was instead of this…broken. I want her to be that happy girl I first…

He shook his head vigorously, clearing his head. He didn't have time to reminisce, not when all this was still on the line. All this… Her life.

Trying as hard as he could not to avert his eyes, he forced his gaze down to the paper, the latest in a slowly darkening series. Naruto had found the paper in question just that morning, awakening in the training field. He had seen it, tucked into the forked twigs of a sakura tree. The irony was just sickening. He remembered the swoop-thud he had felt as he had seen the pale origami blossom, juxtaposed against pale pink petals and stark black branches. As he had tried to pull it out, it was as if the twiggy little fingers of the tree pulled at him, trying to reel him in. Alarmed, Naruto had yanked his arm away in a fit of paranoia, snapping thin branches. He had gained the paper, though. He had the paper flower, though, and that was all that mattered.

See, he had to have it. It was compulsory, almost an obsessive desire. But, once he had it, his responsibility snowballed, obsession turning to repulsion turning to attraction, like an ever-shifting magnet.

And now, here he was. Staring at that gods-damned paper. He had smoothed it out as best he could, but it hadn't done much to flatten it. He couldn't fix it.

He just couldn't.

So Naruto sat there, chin on the table's edge, gazing pointedly at the patches of shadow and light created by that paper. Conflicting oceans of dark and patches of light played across its surface, suggesting movement.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Five minute-

To hell with this! Naruto snatched up the abused note, flipping it over and forcing his eyes to follow Sakura's neat kanji. Here we go. Naruto inhaled sharply, and then flipped the paper.

Brazen ink soldiers slopped down the page, thick lines and fat blotches. Odder and more deviant still were the hastily made notations in Sakura's handwriting.

What? Naruto pulled the previous letter out of his pocket; flattened it next to the one he was currently suffering th-reading. His eyes flicked back and forth to each in quick succession. This can't be her writing! Was she passing notes or-

And then he read it. Really read it.

Oh, gods.

Sakura was talking to someone.

What Is this?

Sakura was talking to herself.

Naruto's mind whirled, jumping from scene to scene of monochromatic memory; finally settling on a fogged relapse of years before. Ino. The Chuunin Exams. Shintenshin-what had Ino said? The jutsu failed-no, Ino said she was kicked out of Sakura's head by some other thing…could this-

Dissacosciative Identity Disorder. Baachan-Baachan was right. I've got to find Baa-no, I can't; how can I explain? I have to find Ino!

This sent Naruto's mind reeling. Black and white clashed together symphonically on the page, betraying so much more than the meaning of the words.

Remember to breathe, Naruto.

Sakura was writing a note.

Sakura was writing to herself.