Her chest ached from sucking in lungfuls of cold, autumn air as she ran. She twisted her head back to see if he was close, pink fringe veiling her eyes.
There he is!
Giggling, she pumped her legs harder, feeling the muscles burn as she tore down a side street. Sasuke was fast—she'd have to mind his chakra to be sure he wasn't flash-stepping. A flat-bed cart crossed her path and she jumped, using the elevation to vault onto a rooftop.
The market district was coming up. She could drop down and mix in with the crowd. He'd never find her there.
Her sandals thumped onto a cobblestoned alley and she ducked into the closest shop—a fruit stand—where she weaved in and out of shoppers tapping watermelons and squeezing tomatoes. She snuck out a side door and zigzagged her way across the crowded square, glancing behind her occasionally to check his position.
She never knew how much fun it would be to have Sasuke chase her. There was a twinge in her stomach when she saw how desperately he pursued her, but it was small and easily pushed down.
He's getting closer!
Panic pushed her into the weapon shop—she couldn't let him get too close. She cursed as he followed her into the store. Racing down an aisle, she tried to confuse him by doubling back then scrambling behind a display of samurai armor—Sasuke still made a beeline directly for her. She crouched low and pretended to peruse the black-lacquered obi blades as she caught her breath and massaged a stitch in her side.
His footsteps came loud and quick across the old store's creaky, wooden floor. Her hands flew through some signs just as his fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arm.
"Sakura," he said harshly, lifting her to her feet.
"I'm sorry," she said with a confused look as she moved a long, blonde curl from her shoulder with a casual flick of her hand. "My name isn't Sakura, but…" She bit her lip as she looked him over with hungry, half-lidded eyes of icy blue. "I really, really wish it was."
Frustration twisted Sasuke's face into a scowl. With a mumbled sorry, he marched from the shop with fisted hands.
"Can I help you?" asked a spotty-faced teenager. His apron and the oily rag he was using to compulsively polish a kunai told her he was a store employee—a smitten employee, she thought, judging by his overeager manner and blinding smile.
"You wish," she snorted as her henge melted—she watched the boy frown and walk away as her blonde curls dissolved into bright red.
Karin peered out the window of the shop and saw Sasuke's imposing figure stalking through the marketplace—the crowd parting for his angry retreat. Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she chuckled.
"That's right. Keep looking," she whispered. "Sakura doesn't know it, but she's avoiding you—and it's beginning to get to you."
Again.
He squeezed his fists a little tighter. She ducked me again.
For the past week or more, Sasuke had chased pink hair through the Leaf village only to come up empty-handed every time.
She knows it's me, he thought. She knows I'm looking for her. He'd seen flashes of mischievous green eyes as he scanned the crowds—he'd even thought he'd seen her grin at his frustration.
No. That couldn't be… He shook the thought out of his head. He knew Sakura wouldn't frustrate him purposefully—but why was she running from him?
I thought we'd…I thought we were… He ran his hands through his hair. Friends. Is that what he and Sakura were? He wasn't sure, but he knew they'd at least made some progress. Lately, though, it seemed that every step he took forward with her left him sliding two steps back.
Sasuke sat with a thump and a sigh on a bench along the winding staircase in Konoha's public park. As he gazed at the steep steps, he wondered why he was always the one climbing, searching, struggling.
Wincing at sudden, high-pitched laughter, he looked up to find the blushing brunette who'd tried to push that pink bouquet on him—the rose-colored flowers that reminded him so painfully of Sakura. She was being playfully pursued by a sandy-haired civilian.
"Toru-chan! Toru-chan! You can't catch me!" she sang teasingly between giggles as she ducked behind a bush.
"I'm right behind you, Natsumi!"
Natsumi burst out of her hiding spot, shrieking merrily. Turning toward the bench, the sight of Sasuke sitting there jolted her abruptly to a halt. Her eyes widened in fear. "Oh! It's you. T-Toru-chan!" she yelled and ran off in search of her civilian knight, trembling as if she'd just come face-to-face with a monster.
Sasuke's brows sank low. He banged his fist hard against the stone bench, but it did nothing to dispel his fury. He needed to hit something. Now.
Where is Naruto?
He homed in on Ichiraku's before he realized where his feet were leading him. The bright orange visible beneath the flapping noren told Sasuke his instincts were right.
He slid into a well-worn chair next to his teammate. Naruto looked at him from the very corner of his eye and then plunged his face into his bowl, shoveling noodles into his mouth at an alarming rate.
"Idiot," Sasuke mumbled—it was his customary greeting. Naruto peeked at him again and continued to eat. "Naruto," he said louder through gritted teeth.
"Oh, hey, Sasuke. I, uh, didn't see you there." Naruto's face was an unfamiliar mask—he seemed nervous, edgy.
Sasuke decided to cut to the chase. "Where's Sakura?"
"Uh, don't know." He shrugged. "Not sure."
Sasuke felt an irritating burn growing in his chest. A bowl of pork ramen was set in front of him and he tried again. "Why is she avoiding me?"
Naruto stood, reaching into his pocket. "Avoiding you? I don't really…hmm…no idea…" He drifted off as he dropped some change on the counter. "Well, it's late. Gotta go. See you, Sasuke."
Sasuke nearly snapped his chopsticks as he looked down at Naruto's bowl—it was still half full.
Something's going on, he thought with a dark scowl and an ache beneath his ribs. And I'm going to find out what. He pushed away his own bowl, his appetite long gone.
The dripping wet cup clinked gently against a plate as she dropped the last breakfast dish in the drain.
"…lateral basal, and posterior basal."
Sakura reached for a towel to dry her hands just as her recitation of the segments of the lung ended. She took a deep breath and started up another litany.
"Scaphoid, lunate, pisiform…"
So many tiny bones in your hand, she thought absently as she ticked off their names. Her mind drifted to a vision of Sasuke's hands—how gracefully he'd slid them down the curve of Karin's back—how firmly they'd pushed her flush against him.
Her lip trembled as she clutched the damp dish towel.
"Enough!"
Porcelain clattered as Sakura pounded her fists on the counter to keep herself from crumbling. For almost two weeks, she'd struggled constantly to maintain control. Every time she left her mind unoccupied, visions of Sasuke embracing Karin rushed to fill the void—and those visions left her crippled, sobbing.
"Not now," she muttered through clenched teeth.
She needed to get to the hospital. It would not do to be on the edge of hysterics while tending to her patient—especially when her patient was Uchiha Itachi.
Itachi was keen and observant—he'd noticed her shift in mood, she was sure of it. Maybe she was just feeling vulnerable, but Sakura could almost sense his brain piecing her story together.
"Sakura?" he'd asked early last week when she came in quivering, fresh from having her heart broken in front of her eyes. "Have you ever been to Frost Country?"
She was caught off-guard and a wave of images flooded her mind—ice sculptures, sugary treats, forest green furisodes, and a sleigh ride with Sasuke.
"Y-yes," she answered. "I've been there."
"On a mission?"
"Yes."
Sakura wasn't sure what Itachi was hoping to gain from all these frivolous questions he'd been asking lately.
"I've heard they have a magnificent Winter Festival there."
It wasn't the first time Sakura wondered if Itachi could see directly into her mind. He always seemed to know exactly what heartstring to pluck, and soon, she found herself spilling the entire story of a younger, overly-competitive Sasuke trying to outrace his obnoxious teammate's sled with her help—and how it had almost ended in tragedy when they nearly crashed into a tree. Of course, she'd left out some of her more embarrassing moments where she'd adored Sasuke gleefully, childishly. To her surprise, she felt so much better talking about the good times she'd shared with Team Seven—and she wondered yet again what her patient's real motivation was.
She glanced at the clock and knew she should get moving. Shoving her keys in her pouch, Sakura started toward the hospital as she focused her thoughts by ticking off the regions of the brain.
"Cerebral cortex, occipital lobes, forebr—hey!"
Powerful fingers curled around her arm and yanked. Her fist was already careening toward her assailant's face when she felt it—dark, cold, familiar chakra.
"Sakura."
Her eyes flicked to his disheveled hair, his rumpled clothes, the black circles beneath his eyes.
"Sasuke…are you…okay?"
"I knew if I waited long enough, I'd catch you."
Dread trickled through her at his slightly lopsided grin. She knew she was right in her assumption that he'd spent a sleepless night keeping vigil on her rooftop, waiting for her to leave for the hospital…but why?
The ominous swirl of his unrestrained chakra was choking. A shiver ran down her spine and her feet instinctively backed away from him.
"I have to go."
His grip on her wrist constricted painfully.
"I-Itachi needs me."
She yelped when at least three of the bones in her hand fractured. Chakra raced to her aid as she wrenched her arm away and took off running.
She didn't stop until her back slammed against the rear wall of the Restricted Ward's elevator. Cradling her swollen wrist, she looked down to find that she was branded with the purpling imprint of Sasuke's fingers.
A tiny fist gripped his finger and pulled it into a gummy mouth. Itachi smiled as tears instantly dried up. He pressed his lips to his infant brother's forehead and thick, round cheeks.
Itachi lay still, hoping the dream would linger.
"Don't cry, Sasuke. I'll always be here for you."
On instinct, his body jerked at a flare of chakra—the binding at his wrists reminding him of where he was. He wasn't on the front steps of his childhood home, cradling his swaddled brother. The blissful spell was broken.
"Itachi-san."
"Sakura."
Despite constant reminders, Sakura would not drop the distancing suffix from his name. Itachi worked daily to get to know her, to find out more about her, but she was still suspicious of his motives. The wary shinobi in him applauded her hesitance—the desperate big brother in him wanted to grab her hand and blurt out that he meant her no harm.
A dull, metal thunk told him that she'd finished reading his chart. He sat up straighter, knowing she'd soon lay her hands on him. Today would be the day—he didn't have time to put it off. When her hand slid from his arm toward his chest, Itachi seized the opportunity and grabbed her by the wrist. Her sharp intake of breath made him loosen his hold immediately.
"My apologies, Sakura. How did you break your wrist?" In less than a second, Itachi puzzled out the swelling, her gasp—he knew she'd been injured.
"It's nothing, Itachi-san."
Her hesitation and the momentary trembling of her fingers made his face twist into a scowl.
Sasuke.
But why? He was sure he knew how his brother felt about the young kunoichi. Her stories of their missions together told a tale of blossoming love. Had that much happened since his fight with Sasuke to change him so drastically?
"I was wondering…the former Team Taka—do you know what's become of them?" An innocent enough question, he thought, but the answer could be revealing. One team molded his brother—could the other have misshaped him?
"I don't know." A hesitation. A sigh. "I only know of one. She lives in Konoha—works for Konoha." Itachi could taste the bitterness in Sakura's voice. "If you don't mind, Uchiha-san, I need to concentrate for a moment."
Hmmm, Itachi thought as she touched her hands to his chest, Uchiha-san? Sakura retreated quickly at the mention of Sasuke's female teammate. He recalled all he knew of Karin—a gifted sensor, a favorite of Orochimaru, and thoroughly infatuated with his brother. Was she the changing influence?
"Her name is Karin, correct?"
Sakura's chakra rippled uncomfortably through his body and her hands twitched on his skin. A wave of nausea rose in his throat as her energy darkened.
"Sorry," she mumbled as her chakra quickly withdrew. He heard her rifling through cabinets on the far side of his room. A cool glass was pressed to his lips a moment later. "Drink this. It'll help the queasiness."
The mattress dipped as Sakura surprised him by sitting on the side of his bed. "I'm so sorry, Itachi. That was very unprofessional of me." Her voice strained with emotion.
A thousand questions ran through Itachi's head and a sourness churned in his stomach as he contemplated how to distract her from her pain, yet still discover its source.
"Sakura, did I ever tell you about the time Sasuke twisted his ankle playing Ninja Hide-and-Seek?"
Itachi wistfully recalled for her a sun-filled day on the Training Grounds. A six-year-old Sasuke was eager to study all of his big brother's techniques in the hopes of leapfrogging ahead of his Academy peers. Ninja Hide-and-Seek was one of his favorite games. When Itachi learned how to clone himself, however, his little brother was none too pleased. He chuckled, remembering Sasuke's pouting face as he fumed to their father about how that just wasn't fair.
On this particular day, a too-zealous Sasuke caught a glimpse of one of Itachi's clones hiding behind a tree and raced off to catch him. Unfortunately, his small foot caught under a root and wrenched his ankle. He sniffled and limped until his big brother hoisted him onto his back for the long walk home. Itachi realized he'd been had when his brother waved and giggled at everyone they passed.
A smile curved Itachi's lips as he relived the memory—until a soft snicker from Sakura diverted his reverie.
"Sasuke-kun was…waving?" Her snicker became louder. "And…giggling?"
Her laughter was infectious and Itachi found himself chuckling along. When it subsided, he grew nostalgic and sighed. "It's a sight I wish I could see again."
"You can still see your brother, you know. I could bring him here. I know what you said, Itachi, but Sasuke-kun needs to see you."
Knowing that Sasuke's proximity would increase the voracity of his seal, Itachi tried to deflect the subject. "My eyesight has deteriorated to the point where I can't see my own hand in front of my face. It wouldn't matter if he was here or not."
After a moment's silence, Sakura asked, "Maybe I could take a look?"
Itachi almost laughed—as much as he liked Sakura, there was no way he would let her have access to his Kekkei Genkai.
"I've healed Kakashi's before."
He was not surprised that Hatake-senpai allowed her to delve into the secret of his Sharingan—he was not an Uchiha and didn't understand the true nature of the venerated eye.
"I've also healed Sasuke's. On our last mission."
Shock paralyzed Itachi. His brother allowed someone to examine his eyes? A warmth unfroze his numbed body as he reassessed Sasuke's feelings for this woman.
"You would need to remove my blindfold, kunoichi," Itachi warned with as much cold wrath as he could muster—would she fear his dojutsu, he wondered.
He felt her hands at the back of his head, brushing stray hair away from the binding as she loosened the knot. Itachi blinked and squinted at the harsh lights until blurry pink moved to block them.
"I found my way out of your genjutsu once. I think I could manage again," she said, her lips quirked into a half smile as she removed a wrist restraint.
Such an open gesture of trust moved Itachi. He slipped his hand over hers and pulled it to his temple. She settled herself on the bed beside him as warm chakra soothed the ache in his eye sockets. In moments, hazy pink gave way to the defined swirl of a Konoha hitai-ate before he found himself focused on the nuances of hue in her pastel locks.
He reached out to touch her hair in wonder and her hands fell away from his head. He couldn't stop the smile that stretched across his face as his eyes flicked from Sakura to the door to the machines surrounding his bed and, finally, down to his own hands.
He could see.
Awesomeness is to Paige as prettiness is to Sasuke. You never fail me, Paige!
Hey! You outdid yourselves last chapter! I was flooded with amazing, wonderful, make me glow reviews. Thank you all so very much...
This chapter is dedicated to The Scarlett Ribbon whose jaw-dropping fic, "The Butterfly Effect," has just finished. Please, do yourself a favor...go read it...now!