Author's Note: Sorry that it has been so long, but here is the next (partial) installment. Read, review, and enjoy!

Chapter 7 (part 2): A Teacher's Advice

Sakura didn't return to the hospital until well after noon. In the time before her visit, Naruto had exhausted his mind with further thoughts of Sasuke and his current situation. Unfortunately, he didn't get much farther than he already had, but he did succeed in giving himself a substantial headache.

When Sakura finally arrived at his door, she carried a small vase with a single daffodil and knocked gently on the door frame. "May I come in?" she asked a bit meekly. She looked terrible. Dark circles hung underneath her bloodshot eyes. Her pink hair, though pulled back in a braid, was in slight disarray. Her normally professional wardrobe was swapped with a large black sweater that Naruto had seen her wear around her house and a pair of standard issue navy pants. Naruto didn't know what he had been expecting—was she supposed to come in with silky hair, a glowing complexion, and a glamorous dress?—but it most certainly hadn't been this. Still, he couldn't imagine that he looked much better.

By this time, Naruto had been brought some fresh clothes, and a clean white shirt covered his bandaged torso. He gave her a small smile—it was all that he could muster—and motioned for her to come in. "Do you really need to ask?"

Shrugging, Sakura explained, "Well I'm not on duty anymore, so it's just standard procedure . . ." She stopped suddenly, as if just realizing that he had been joking, and shook her head. Walking over to his bed side table, Sakura placed the small vase next to his mask and walked around the bed to sit down in the chair that Kakashi had occupied earlier. Naruto tried to feel grateful for the small act of kindness, but he couldn't help but feel as if giving him a flower implied that he was due for an extended stay.

They didn't talk about Sasuke, not directly. Of course, one of the first things that Sakura had asked him was how he was feeling. Then she went on to explain the cause of his wounds. As he had expected, the burden of the Hiraishin had caused complications with his internal organs, which, in turn, was the main reason he was still being detained at the hospital.

"Tsunade-shishou just wants to see how the healing progresses. Of course, it's practically perfect again, thanks to your rapid healing . . . but still, she doesn't want to take any chances," Sakura explained.

Naruto nodded and said, "I understand."

There was a long pause in which both of them stared intently at their hands. This was awful, Naruto decided. Neither one of them wanted to be the one to admit that Sasuke was dead, even though the fact was painfully obvious. It was the same rule they had abided by after Sasuke had deserted the village . . . and look how far that had gotten them.

After a few moments, Naruto decided that something—anything!—had to be said. Even if he didn't come right out and discuss Sasuke, he had to break the silence so his mind wouldn't stray back to the visage of his broken body lying in a pool of blood. "And how are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Sakura glanced up at him, her eyes dull even as she smiled. "I'm alright," she murmured. "I mean, I'm not great." A tear strangled laugh left her throat. "You know, but, I'm well, I guess. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm alright," she rambled on, turning her head away from him. She lifted her hand to push a stand of hair out of her face, but Naruto couldn't help but notice how her wrist rubbed at the corner of her eye in the same motion. Taking a deep breath, Sakura looked at the ceiling and blinked her eyes rapidly. When she seemed to have herself under control, she swallowed hard and smiled back at him. Despite her efforts, it quickly faltered and broke into a laugh-sob, and she held her head in her hands to get a hold of herself.

It pained Naruto to see her like this, vulnerable and fragile in her too-big sweater, her skin ghostly pale against the black of mourning. Not caring about physical boundaries, Naruto reached out, pulled one of her hands away from her face, and held it in his own. "I'm sorry . . ." was all he could think to say.

Shaking her head, Sakura wiped her eyes and let out a strange, bitter laugh. "Why are you always apologizing to me?" she asked, but did not pull her hand away. "It's not your fault . . . You didn't do anything wrong." Her hand gripped his with surprising strength while she tried in vain to clear her eyes of the onslaught of tears.

Naruto hadn't seen Sakura cry openly in years. Ever since she had picked up her apprenticeship with Tsunade, she had hardened herself to the world. That wasn't to say that she hadn't let a crying fit slip every now and again, but after they had transitioned into their later teens, the instances had stopped completely. Perhaps this was the result of bottling her naturally emotional-self up for far too long. Naruto knew the feeling. It seemed as if they had both found their breaking point.

The sight was becoming more and more unbearable, and finally when Naruto could no longer idly stand by like some half-ass friend, he said screw the boundaries and scooted down on his bed so that he could envelope Sakura in a full hug. He ignored the sting against his ribs—odd, why hadn't the Kyuubi fixed that yet?—when they made contact. He also ignored the fact that he wasn't wearing pants; it didn't seem relevant. There was nothing sexual about this, and he'd be a damn fool if he tried anything when Sakura was in such a complex mental state. There was a slight hesitation on Sakura's part in which she tried to stifle her crying. But with one mighty intake of air, she broke down into sobs and returned the hug with full force.

Sakura pressed her face into his neck, shaking from the force of her misery. Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks on any lesser man. Truthfully, it was painful, but Naruto would have taken twelve chidoris to the heart if it meant that he could ease Sakura's pain.

Eventually, Sakura's sobs gave way to tears, which in turn gave way to shaky words. "I-I knew this w-would happen," she sniffled into his skin. Her hard grip melted away, and she sat propped up against him, defenseless and broken by the world. For a moment, Naruto's heart sank. So, she knew he would fail her? Well, that was disheartening. "It was that . . . that stupid promise. I sh-should have never asked you . . ."

Naruto tried not to let his body tense up at the insult, but it was difficult. Even he could not keep his composure after such a low blow. But there was something in Sakura's voice that made him bite his tongue. She sounded delirious, like she didn't realize that she was still rambling on in a shaky monotone. But she was not finished.

"I knew Sasuke was lost to us . . . I think I always knew. I-I asked you to do the impossible, and that wasn't fair," she continued miserably. Naruto could hear the shift in her voice, and suddenly, he wasn't insulted anymore. "And then . . . and then I thought you were gone, too, and I felt so horrible." Her speech was broken by a small hiccup-sob. "Because of me . . . because of the promise."

Suddenly, Naruto recalled the conversation he had with Sakura three years prior and how depressed she had seemed by the thought that Naruto was still fighting to uphold his promise to her. Slowly but surely, he began to fit in the missing pieces that had eluded him for so long.

"B-but then you really were gone, and I went from having both of you to having neither of you. And . . . and I was lost," Sakura continued, still holding him in her limp grip.

Now Naruto was confused. They had both agreed that him leaving the village to train with Jiraiya would be the best option for their cause. Had Sakura always felt this way? He had never imagined that her vulnerability could have been so deep-rooted. But perhaps that was why she had tried to hide it for so long. She had been afraid of her own insecurities, afraid of being a burden, afraid of standing in the way of their team's progress. Sakura was the type of person that hated to make a fool out of herself, and if she happened to be so careless as to make a mistake once, she made it her personal goal to never make that mistake again, no matter what the cost.

"And I tried . . . so hard to be better, for both of you, but . . . but . . ." she broke off into deep breaths interrupted by hiccups, and Naruto rubbed her back and held her closer to him. "I just left everything to you, because I couldn't handle it . . . and look what happened!" She buried her head in his neck until her crying passed, and then she pulled away to look at his face. Tears collected around the brims of her eyes, making them appear red and swollen as they stared up at him.

Finally, Naruto could not stay silent any longer. He raised his hand to cup her cheek and whispered, "Shh, Sakura. It'll be alright. You did everything you could—"

"No!" she protested and pulled away from his gentle hold. "Don't you get it? I didn't. I gave up. I can't fix that!" She took a moment to let her words sink in, sniffling a bit to herself, and then her defensive fire sputtered and died, and she was vulnerable once again. "You didn't see how you looked last night. Tearing through the halls, covered in blood. You were screaming in this voice I've never heard before," she shakily explained. Slowly, almost hesitantly, her eyes glanced up at him again and she whispered, "Your eyes were red. I barely recognized you at first . . . and I thought, 'My God . . . I did this to him.'" As she spoke, her bottom lip wavered, but she pushed on in spite of it. "I gave you too much of the burden. I let you shoulder everything, and I hate myself for that. I'm so sorry . . ." she broke off, plagued by her inner turmoil.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Yes, Sakura had been heartbroken over Sasuke's death—just as Naruto had been—but that wasn't the only thing that troubled her. She was distant not because she blamed him, but because she blamed herself. She felt inadequate and guilty in his presence, but at the same time, she needed his friendship to keep her stable. It was a dangerous mixture for her state of mind to say the least, for what could she do if she could not find solace in him, her one piece of consistency in her life?

And maybe . . . maybe that was all he could ever be. A constant variable. A measuring block of her sanity. A friend.

But that was a problem for another day. Right now, he needed to fulfill his duty to her, whatever that may be. He needed to put his own wants and desires to the side so that he could focus on her needs. Besides, wasn't that enough? Compared to foolishly rambling on about his affections or blatantly pursuing her, wasn't that a purer form of love? Naruto thought so.

Wrapping her in his arms, Naruto held Sakura's weak and fragile body close to his strong yet equally vulnerable frame. "I think . . . that we both need to stop apologizing to each other," he said seriously. He could feel Sakura shaking her head against his shoulder, so he continued before she had a chance to interrupt. "We blame ourselves for everything, Sakura. We have to stop. Some things are just above our control."

Now, Naruto wasn't one who believed in fate controlling his life, but after he had pushed so hard against it only to have it spit in his face at the moment of victory, he couldn't help but feel that some things were above the powers of man, or ninja for that matter. How else could such sad fates—the death of his parents, Sasuke's wayward path, the loss of so many good men to war—be justified?

But Sakura didn't want to believe it. She wanted to stay in her state of self-loathing until she ceased to feel anything at all. "But what if they're not? What if I had been better? Stronger? I could have . . ."

"You could have what, Sakura?" Naruto asked, a strange mixture of impatience and gentleness in his voice. He heard his own doubts echoed in her words, and for the first time, he was able to answer them in confidence. "Nothing that we could have done would have changed anything. Even if we brought him back . . . even our happy ending would have been condemning him to something that he didn't want." The words flowed out of him as if they had come from some other source. What was this talk that sounded like giving up? Was it giving up, or was it acceptance . . . the acceptance that had eluded him and thus plagued his mind for years?

He didn't know. And maybe that was alright for now. He didn't need to know, not yet. And because he couldn't fully trust his own words at the moment due to their questionable source, he decided to quote a man much wiser than himself. "You can't live your life focusing on the 'what ifs'. They'll eat you alive," Naruto repeated gently.

Sakura's urgent, pleading expression slowly melted away, leaving behind a sad, confused countenance. Slowly, her body fell forward into him, as if she no longer possessed the strength to keep herself upright. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder, and her body weight was split between their small contact and her position in her chair. Naruto didn't mind the extra burden.

After a dead beat, Sakura moved her head slightly towards him—a polite but incomplete attempt to look at him as she spoke. "When did you get so smart?" she asked with just the small trace of teasing in her voice. The change in tone, no matter how subtle, was a vast improvement to the mood of the situation.

Though he tried not to, Naruto chuckled to himself. "I'm not smart. That's just what Kakashi-sensei told me when I broke down," he admitted with another chuckle. Sakura's shoulders began to shake again, and for a moment, Naruto thought his bluntness might have thrown her into another bout of tears. To his surprise, he heard a muffled laugh instead. He laughed again at the absurdity of it all—here they were, nineteen years old, and they were still quoting their old sensei—but stronger this time. Of course Kakashi had given him the answer. He had always given him the answer when he bothered to ask. It just seemed so ridiculous to be credited for his sagely advice.

Their laughter continued to grow, feeding off each other until it filled the entire room and Naruto had to press a hand to his side to stop his ribs from spasming in pain. It wasn't until they pulled away from each other that Naruto noticed they had both been crying.

Soon the laughter died, and Sakura wiped the tears from her eyes with small, sobering chuckles. "God, Naruto . . . what's wrong with us?" she asked with an exasperated sigh, but underneath her playful tone, Naruto sensed the urgency in her question. She needed reassurance that she wasn't crazy, that what she was feeling was completely normal, that someday life would be perfect like she had dreamed it would be when she was a little girl. He didn't know if he could answer all that for her, but he sure as hell would try.

As it had before, the answer flowed out of him as if some stranger had whispered the words to him in his sleep. And just as before, he said it with confidence. "We're just kids. How are we supposed to know?" How could something so simplified be so true?

Naruto hadn't used that excuse sense he was twelve . . . maybe ten. He had falsely mistaken his graduation from the Academy as his passage into adulthood. He had been ready to die, to kill, to fight for his country without really knowing what it meant. And now, at nineteen, he was still willing to do all those things, but the reality of their weight had finally awoken him from his delusion. Who was he kidding? He may have talked big and dressed like a man—covered his child's face with a mask—but he had so much more to learn. Nineteen . . . compared to his teachers, what did he know about life? Fuck, he couldn't even figure out love.

Sakura seemed to find his insight strangely amusing. She smiled softly, wrapped herself in her own arms, and leaned back in her chair. "I suppose you're right." There was a small pause in which they both seemed to compose themselves. Sakura wiped at her eyes a few more times, and Naruto straightened out his shirt before situating himself in his previous position in the bed. After a moment, Sakura broke her concentration from the pattern of the floor tiles and murmured, "It's hard."

Frowning in confusion, Naruto asked, "What is?"

"Not thinking about the 'what ifs'. Just accepting it for what it is. Knowing that that's how it happened and there's nothing you can do or could have done to ever change it," she elaborated softly. Her honesty caught him a little off guard, and he slowly began to realize how plagued by this obsession Sakura had been for the past few years, just as he had been. "It's so . . . absolute. I think I prefer my self-delusions," she whispered, a serene sort of sadness permeating her words.

It was so true. And how odd it was that they were willing to put themselves through the torment of reliving the situation in different scenarios over and over again in their minds—scrutinizing their performances, fussing over every little detail, wondering if this would have changed something, anything!—just to put off the inevitable truth that what is done, is done.

Naruto couldn't agree more with her. "It is hard. But in the end, I think . . . I think it will be the easier road for us," he decided slowly.

Nodding slowly along with what he said, Sakura agreed, "I think so, too."

An invisible weight seemed to be lifted off Naruto's shoulders. He couldn't exactly identify it at the moment—blame, perhaps, or maybe shame—but he didn't miss its presence. Unfortunately, it still left most of the grief and other assorted emotions, but it also left a small seed of hope and acceptance. It would take time to grow, but hopefully, with enough care and attention, it would be able to flourish inside him as it once had in his childhood.

Naruto and Sakura passed the rest of their visit discussing less touchy subjects, though few came to mind. They talked briefly about the funeral, running over possible invitations—the term "guest list" seemed morbidly out of place—and locations. Sakura constantly reminded him that he needed rest just as he constantly hinted that she should take the next few days off. After several eye rolls, she grudgingly agreed. Naruto wasn't sure how long they talked—he would later find that the whole week would become nothing more than a blur of emotions and half-remembered phrases—but he found the conversation to be a fine escape from his thoughts.

But things could not last forever. The day grew long, and the time came for Sakura to excuse herself. After she stood up to leave, she leaned down to wrap an arm around Naruto's neck in a small hug and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep." She smiled at him when she pulled away, sad and beautiful even in her strained contentment.

She didn't fool him. "Alright, Sakura. And are you sure you're okay?" he asked because he cared about her, even if she only saw it as a friendship.

She hesitated, but was quick to cover up the falter in her smile. "Don't worry about me. I'm tough!" she assured him and raised her right arm in a half-hearted flex. It briefly reminded him that no matter how fragile she looked, Sakura could still break his arm in a single punch.

There she went again, purposefully distancing herself from him so she wouldn't seem weak, dependent. What was most puzzling for him, though, was how she managed to maintain a constant attachment to him. She always seemed so close, but just far enough away to keep him hoping that maybe if he ran fast enough and tried hard enough, he'd be able to catch her. He was still running. He might never stop.

"I know you are," he said, indulging her needs. She smiled at him and turned to leave; he smiled back and watched her go. "Goodbye, Sakura," he called as she walked out the door to leave him alone with his thoughts once again.

To be continued . . .