Hi all, and thank you so much for your patience. Family emergencies and moving all seemed to happen at once, and though things aren't quite fully settled, I finally found the time to finish this chapter! I'm definitely still working on ALL of my WIPs (meaning, I have no plans to abandon any of 'em), but can't promise the frequency with which I used to post. If it's of importance to you, I'm happy and healthy, just very very busy and trying to manage my stress as I go.

So much love to you all as always, xox
-Vivi

"Of all the animals on earth we least know what is good for us. My opinion is, that what is best for us is our admiration of good."

"What's my name?"

Itachi was a patient man, but Sakura could see now—even as, in the fading light of the setting sun, he ducked beneath one of her kicking feet—the way he fought not to sigh. "Haruno Sakura."

Long-range healing and monitoring were tricky enough when standing still, but Kabuto had taught her expertly all those years ago. To do it during a spar took far more of her concentration than she would've hoped, but it was a decent way to stay her strength against a recovering opponent. She felt the congested flow of his chakra, noting the usual strain in his lungs. Not that he'd ever let that stop him from pushing himself beyond his limits before, though.

"And how old are you?"

A slight twitch of his brow as he pulled a kunai from the bag at his hip and flung it at her, so fast it was little more than a blur. Without the black robe draped around his shoulders, she realized how much she'd relied on its billowing sleeves and the small glints of the stitched red-cloud pattern in reading his movements. "Soon to be twenty."

A quick somersault sent her from the knife's trajectory. For someone whose vision was failing and who'd only recently woken from a coma, his accuracy was an astonishing reminder of his precision and skill. She had not once seen him make any wasteful movements, especially while fighting. "And your birthday—"

"You don't even know that," he said with a slight smile. The color had long since returned to his skin and lips, but some nights he would still shiver greatly—but Sakura had to remind herself that he'd always ran a bit cold. She eased her outstretched chakra, satisfied with the condition of his lungs but still finding herself unable to stop worrying for him overall. At this point, it was likely she never could.

"Then tell me." She made to swipe at him, restrained. Typically she would keep her hands outlined in a sharp layer of chakra that could cut clean through bone, and she found it almost difficult to hold back now that she was not so preoccupied with monitoring his condition. From all of her strength and that of her companions, she was accustomed to intense spars that mimicked real battle, but Itachi had not yet made a full recovery. It would take time for his muscles to relearn their usefulness after the few short weeks of total inactivity and for his chakra to settle in the proper places.

"The ninth day of the sixth month."

Kisame had just taken off to find a suitable meal for the three of them. In the week since she'd visited the Ryuuchi Cave and brought their partner back to the realm of the conscious, he'd been careful about giving them space but not too much of it. When she thought back she understood he'd always been that way, and for the softer side of him she'd seen in recent weeks, his reasoning was all the more clear to her: he was not so coldhearted as she'd thought before, his kindness unable to be fully suppressed behind his trauma. He loved them both, and wanted to give them the opportunity to love each other. Tonight, he wandered a bit further than usual, and the moment he was out of sensory range, Itachi seemed intent to capitalize on it.

"You should hate me," he said at once.

She stilled, not meeting his eyes as she took an offensive stance back across from him. The fire at their camp cracked and hissed once beside them, its warmth a comfort in the physical sense only. Her mind was swirling with all of those myriad things since Konoha had exploded and the now-familiar sting of the memory of that snowy evening she'd punched Itachi. They couldn't avoid the subject forever, no matter how much she wished she could just forget and start over. But a few things too great to ignore had also happened since they parted; truly, she was grateful he'd changed the subject from his health and the state of his brain to matters far more emotional. She wasn't sure she could've done it herself.

He'd been getting more and more coherent as the days wore on, and so with a great breath she decided she should start with what was sure to be the worst blow. "Itachi...while you were unconscious, Konoha was...Pein destroyed it."

The words fell limply in the space between them, the sounds of the evening forest bugs and wildlife a low hum that did little to keep her growing anxiety at bay. He tilted his head, studying her before shutting his eyes and going quiet for some time. As she stood there in silence for a long moment, a dread of great weight grew steadily in her chest with each passing second until he said,

"The Leaf is still standing, though it does seem to be undergoing massive repair."

She did not doubt him—surely he was seeing through the eyes of his crows, but she furrowed her brows, unsure. "But everyone...Karin said that everyone's chakra signatures were wiped out."

"Is that the red-headed sensory type who was traveling with you? She's quite skilled to have such a long range."

"Don't change the subject!" She shot forth and took him by the shoulders, doing her best to reign in her temper and not squeeze him too roughly. "Check again! You're telling me there's people walking around like everything is fine?"

"Yes," he answered plainly, blinking. There was almost something like innocence in his eyes, watching her curiously.

"My mom," she breathed, unable to keep the desperation from shaking her voice. "Are my parents...? What about Kaka-sensei and Naruto and—"

"They are well," he answered, taking her hands from his shoulders and pulling her down. Together they sat facing one another, their knees touching there in the grass. Though the contact was a welcome comfort, she shivered. Slowly she ran her thumb across the small hills and valleys of his knuckles, grounding herself that this was real and everything might not be as hopeless as it seemed just minutes ago. He closed his eyes once more, his breaths steady through his nostrils. "Your parents are actually visiting with Kakashi at present. He's—"

"In the hospital, no doubt." She pursed her lips, then shook her head. The laugh she gave was short but not devoid of humor.

"Your Naruto was last seen heading to the Hokage's office. I do not have eyes there, but it seems Lady Fifth is comatose." When he opened his eyes and leveled them on hers, a chill ran through her spine. The air around him had shifted, as if he'd seen or heard something troubling.

She swallowed, keenly aware he hadn't said a word about Sasuke. Giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, she pressed at the situation from another angle. "What was it Karin felt, then? Genjutsu?"

He hummed in thought, his eyes drawn now to their campfire. "Pein wields a jutsu that can bring massive destruction and reverse it in the same breath, though I doubt he lived to speak of it. What I wonder is how did you know of his involvement?"

That bit of information sent her thoughts into a quick spiral, anger rising. Of course that guy calling himself Madara would've kept such a crucial aspect from her...! Even in trying to resist being taken advantage of, his manipulation had still managed to mess with her after all.

"To kill everyone and then just bring them all back like it was...like it was just a simple mistake," she spat as she brought a hand to the incredulous expression on her face. "Is that supposed to be his idea of mercy?"

Itachi shifted his weight, one of his legs straightening. She'd felt the chakra stagnating at his knee, aware of the pins-and-needles feeling it was shooting through to his heel and toes. "I won't pretend I knew him well. He was sickly from the Tailed Beast extraction ritual and likely snapped; he had a hard life, from what I understand."

"Haven't we all," she murmured rhetorically, rolling her eyes.

"Please answer my question, Sakura."

It was still so strange to hear him say her name, and she fought a shiver to be addressed so directly. "How did I know it was Pein? That day it snowed and we...talked. And I punched you..."

How the hell was she supposed to go on? It had been hard enough to tell Sasuke, but this concerned Itachi much more directly, his past and his actions and his mental state all circling around what was assuredly the worst day of his life. Would it be cruel to make him relive it? Cruel to make it known that she had access to his carefully kept secrets? But when she could not express any further thoughts, he filled in the silence.

"I...thought you knew. Truly." He glanced down at the fire again, pensive. "When first we met I saw the fear in your eyes. You were close to Sasuke and he...I didn't..."

She had never seen him at such a loss for words; her heart ached to see it even against her better judgment. "I did suspect you of it, at first. You're intimidating, you know that?"

A humorless chuckle. "I tried to be."

"Yeah, well, wasn't it you who told me that the people we pretend to be are still us?" She hugged her knees. His hands hovered where she'd left them, then fell to the ground. He had still done something so horrible—how could they work past such a thing?

But, she supposed, they'd never find out if she couldn't say a damn word! Just where the hell was Inner's sheer audacity when she needed it?

Her voice was steadier than she'd anticipated when she said, "You did something heinous, and...no matter how stupid I am to think it, I know that your heart is kind. I've seen that time and time again."

"Kindness is—"

Emboldened by her compassion, she sat up and flitted her hand between them, clamping it over his mouth. In no way could she let him take charge of this conversation or to spiral into self-pity, if they were to make any progress.

"You're a victim, Itachi. I know the truth."

Though his breath caught he still did not meet her gaze. She swallowed, pulling back her hand from his face and made to sit beside him. "I know about Lord Third and Danzo."

His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them, and when finally he looked at her she felt as if he could light her aflame in an instant. His voice was quiet and tense. "And how is it you've come across such knowledge?"

"A man going around calling himself Uchiha Madara. He approached me in the mountains and told me everything—I know you worked with him to...you know."

"Murder my family," he finished for her. "It is the truth, yes. He and I came to a deal."

She gave a slight grimace, schooling her expression as best she could. "He wants Konoha to fall. I think he's trying to use the Jinchuuriki to do it."

"I cannot make heads or tails of his goals," Itachi said, almost as if to himself. "They seem to be the product of a shattered mind. And now my plans have fallen through; there is much I need to rethink and traps both physical and mental that must be re-set."

"Itachi," she said seriously. He snapped to her attention, and the look on his face was the least put-together she'd ever seen it. He really had never experienced such failure before, had he? "Stop trying to control everything. This isn't Tsukuyomi. Sometimes you need to let life happen to you."

"I—"

"No," she huffed. "I know you planned to die that day and make it look like Sasuke-kun's fault. You had everything planned from the moment you agreed to slaughter the clan, didn't you? Aren't you tired? I've felt your exhaustion the same way I've felt the pain behind your eyes whenever you have to use your Sharingan. What are you so afraid of?"

"There are forces in this world," he tried, "that are beyond our comprehension. I am deathly afraid of my own enemies and enemies of the world using my brother before he's had even a chance at a normal life."

The thought of Itachi being afraid of anything made her swallow thickly. Even if, by his own admission, he had no skill in navigating reality, that didn't mean he didn't exude confidence. So much of him had been an act for so long that she wondered if he even knew his realest self anymore. But all that thought did was burn her determination even brighter. If he knew not who he was, then the two of them could find out together.

"That's something you have to live with." She sighed, her heart in a battle between her empathy and her anger. If he hadn't killed the Uchiha clan, they wouldn't be the only two left of their kind and the Sharingan would be no scarcer than any other doujutsu.

But what she'd said had struck a nerve in him; he continued unprompted. "I'd hoped Sasuke would take my eyes upon my death. Since I first met that man called Madara I had my suspicions of his trustworthiness—my Sharingan is set to burn him alive the next it sees his. It was to be my way of keeping him from corrupting my brother."

She gave a light hum, hoping to ease his troubled mind with a gentle joke. "Didn't have a backup plan for me running out of Konoha instead, huh?" Hopefully it was all right to tease him for such a thing. He'd been accounting for Sasuke on the run and alone in the world, not her. She'd really thrown a wrench in his meticulous planning.

"It's not that," he said. "But your unpredictability has somehow also been your shield. Where I fear Sasuke's sorrow and rage makes him gullible, your trust is a bit more rooted in reality."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You already suspect this person," he explained with a slight shrug. "A man calling himself Madara, you said. I assume you're also already aware that he is the same Tobi of our ranks in the Akatsuki. You are a fine judge of character, Sakura, and I worry less for you because of it."

Affectionately she bumped his shoulder with hers. "That's quite the poetic excuse."

His smile was small but genuine, her heart warming to see it as he blinked slowly atop it. "You can believe what you will."

They sat beside each other for some time not saying a word. Her thoughts were scattered, but not so widely—she found herself sifting through and sorting them with relative ease. Kisame still had not returned, and she sucked in a breath as she braced to press her partner further.

"Can I...ask you more about that day?" With great effort she managed not to wince at herself. "I thought maybe it could help somehow to have someone to talk to about it."

Inner, whose voice had felt more and more vague since the Great Snake's bite, stirred. The guy killed his own family, she muttered wearily. That might be beyond 'Talking Makes You Feel Better' territory, even for us...

If he didn't answer, she wouldn't blame him. She couldn't. Not that she would ever agree that death—the easy way out—was what was best for him; if it could be worked through, if even the tiniest bit of progress could be made to help him atone and truly live again, then it would be worth it. She could not sit by and not try.

After what seemed to be its own brief eon, he spoke.

"I...don't like to think about it."

She hummed, the sound deep and musing in her throat. They did not look at each other even as she found the words—maybe not the right words, but passable ones nonetheless—to say. "I'm sure you don't. But we have to start somewhere."

"Such a task..." He shook his head, a drawn-out sigh filtering through his nostrils. "It's far too monumental. I would not even know where to begin."

"You just—" She stalled, a light scowl briefly crossing her features to realize how easily this answer had come. "You just begin, Itachi. That's all."

She hadn't a plan or much else beyond a foggy—albeit intense—feeling the day she left Konoha. All it'd taken was putting one foot in front of the other in spite of her fear, keeping her goal ever close to her heart. She'd known, even as a terrified thirteen-year old, that nothing would ease the restlessness in her core and that nothing would ever change if she didn't do something.

But he was silent there across from her, a line cutting through his forehead that indicated his brows were furrowed just so in deep thought. This was far beyond his scope, far beyond him, and not something he could do on his own. She thought back, drawing on her time alone and with Orochimaru. What would she have wanted someone, anyone, to say to her? For so long in Konoha she'd spent her time feeling left behind and forgotten about, but her days spent training in those underground tunnels, being sought after by the Akatsuki for her skills both learned and bestowed, her many days spent at Kisame's and Itachi's sides, and even her time with Karin, Suigetsu, and Juugo...she found none of it was enough to fully erase the memories of isolation and failure she felt as part of Team 7.

And what good was her newfound power, a gift from a sage, if she could not heal injuries of all kinds—even those non-physical?

"I believe in you," she finally began. The words were slow but not sluggish, picked carefully but not insincere for it. In her heart there was a budding hope, wound so tightly she wasn't yet sure if it would choke on itself and wither away or blossom into something beautiful beyond her imagination. "I know we don't have a home right now, but we can honor your family in all the ways we can as we go. You can carry them with you instead of trying to push away their memory. Haven't you ever passed by a wildflower and thought of the way your mother might stop to admire it?"

She could see how he considered her words with the utmost sincerity. His head tilted to the side, a small smile cracking through the pained look on his face. "Not flowers," he said. "Spring onions."

Sakura raised a quizzical brow, her own smile growing to hear something like that as she urged him to continue with that look alone.

"All I know of foraging was passed down to me from her," he explained then, some cork within him popped at the opportunity to speak of his family. "She wasn't adept at healing or chakra control, but she loved to cook. When I was a boy she would take me into the forests to fetch fresh herbs and roots; she could spot wild onions from what felt like a mile out. To me they always looked like weeds, but every time she tugged, the earth would come loose and there would be the onion. It never ceased to surprise me."

"And here I thought you were just a natural at picking flowers with me," she teased, bumping his thigh with hers. "That's a wonderful memory, Itachi. You should cherish it."

"I do." He sighed then, falling onto the grass in a way that almost seemed carefree. As he stretched out his limbs, Sakura heard the pops and creaks characteristic of the worn-out bodies of nin. She got to her knees, crawling to sit atop his lap, her legs straddling his hips. The position was intimate and familiar, the gloomy mood between them easing a bit as he went on. Perhaps there could be normalcy in their future, even through the uncertainties. "She would've liked you. I understand she had a bit of a wild streak in her youth, as well."

Sakura huffed her humor through her nostrils. "That right? I'll take it as a compliment." Even as she felt a pang of sadness that she would never meet his mother, she smiled. When all was said and done, she'd make it a point to introduce him to her parents—though she tried not to burst into laughter at what they'd think of an S-class missing nin coming to dinner.

"What reminds you of your father?" she asked then, tracing a faint white line of an old scar at the strip of exposed belly where his shirt had ridden.

"There were not many things he liked. And in fact, he disliked so much with such intensity that perhaps that can be a way to honor him. When you grind ginger in your palms for medicines, I have to push away the memory of how much he loathed the scent of it."

"Did your mother use it in meals?"

"No," he said. "The clan's most respected doctor was known for prescribing it for the Sharingan migraines. They're quite notorious, as you know."

"I do know," she agreed with a sad smile. But the thought was enough to remind her of something else she'd forgotten in the shuffle of the last few weeks, and her eyes went wide. "Your eyes! There's something else." When he did not respond, though, she cocked her head to watch him more closely. "You told me you're letting them fail as punishment for what you did, but—"

"That is not up for discussion," he said flatly. "If I can accept one part of this tangled-up nest I've made, it's that. Please do not fight me on it."

"But that's..." She pursed her lips. "I'd accepted the possibility of death when I tried to save Han, but you had other plans."

"I couldn't let you die." He sat up with a grunt, her body shifting in his lap as he braced his arms on the ground on either side of him. "You've repaid that debt."

She crinkled her nose at that, displeased. "It's not about a debt," she mused softly. She would press him to let her work on his eyes some other day. "I didn't save you because I owed you. I saw you there and I just moved." A tremor shot through her spine to remember seeing him there, cold and pale on the brink of death. Against her better efforts her chest heaved as she recalled the sensation of swimming through an endless darkness, desperate for any sign that he still lived, no matter how faintly.

With little grace she pushed herself into him, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face there against him. Though he made a small gasp of surprise as they fell back to the ground, his body felt as strong and steady as an ancient Fire Country tree.

"I was so scared I'd lost you," she whispered into the warmth of his skin. His arms flew up to hold her then, wrapping around her waist so close she was sure they could meld into one person. "You told me you're not for loving but I—you..."

"Sa—"

"I didn't say it right," she rushed out in a single breath. Her eyes stung with tears as she sat up to wipe at them furiously with the back of her hand. "I said—it's too late for that. And then I ran off and I thought I'd lost you forever."

"Your meaning that night was clear." He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand caressing her face with that gentleness she had come to expect from him. When he pressed his forehead to hers, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. The gravity of their situation had not struck her fully until this very moment, that had she been a moment later he would be dead, and that so long as the nature of the world necessitated this repeating cycle of hatred and violence, the both of them would never know what tomorrow might bring. It was a marvel, then, that they were alive together at all.

"Not clear enough." Her laughter was despondent, the motion sending those tears streaking uselessly down her cheek and pooling into his palm as he looked on, concern painted over his features. "I'm sick of cryptic words, Itachi. There's no more space left in my heart for doubt."

Their lips were parted ever so slightly, their synchronized breaths mingling. She could feel the tickling flutter of his eyelashes as he closed his eyes and murmured, "Then tell me plainly, Sakura."

"I love you."

It had flown from her mouth like a bird finally freed from its cage, like a flower starved for both rain and sun finally feeling the warmth of its rays after a storm. Her heart pounded in her chest, so heavy she knew he could hear it. She counted the seconds by its beat, far too fast to be based in any sort of reality, but the silence stretched on between them until she could bear it no longer, furrowing her brows in something that felt not unlike anger. There was no doubt in her mind or her body or her soul that he loved her too, but he was the only person heaven or earth who she would allow this silence. His emotions, from the events of not only the last few weeks but the last many years, were sure to be tumultuous and raw as he grappled with entering into this new era of reconciliation she had proposed.

"You don't need to say anything," she assured. "If it's not what you want, I'll still be here by your side. I'll still be here to help you along, if you want me to be."

She could feel the shake of his head against hers. "I do want that." He was so quiet she could barely hear. "But it...the words are..."

"It's okay," she whispered back with a smile. "If you can't speak it yet, that's okay. But I have a favor to ask."

They waited there, her nestled in his lap and his hand on her face and their noses brushing together. To say the silence was tense was not quite right, because to Sakura that meant it was somehow bad, that it would somehow need to be broken. What she wanted was not a break, not from this or from him or from what she was feeling, but a continuation of sorts. A validation, to press themselves against each other and show through action what could not yet be said.

The moment should have been perfect. Crickets were abuzz all around them, the easy, melancholy song of a mourning dove was off in the dark treetops above them, the fire cracking cozily at their side. Just as she was about to whisper Kiss me into his mouth, two chakra signatures approached far too closely for comfort. Both she and Itachi had been so caught up in each other that they'd only just now noticed; neither of them suited for public displays of affection, they untangled themselves from each other and made to stand, on alert in an instant the way only ninja could manage.

Sakura fought through the lusty haze in her mind to focus on the signatures. One was undoubtedly Kisame's, though it was uncharacteristically annoyed, churning like relentless waves beating against a rocky shore. The other, well, before she even had time for her anxiety to spike, Kisame had already pushed aside the thick brush and appeared before them. He was tugging at something, but Samehada sat fastened in the back of the holster snug across his chest.

It was not unkindly—but not very nicely, either—that he gave a push. Someone stumbled out into the clearing of their camp, their mop of black hair fallen over their face, cast downward as if in shame. But then Sakura looked harder, their stance giving away that they were injured, bones broken and pains flaring within, and that wasn't even mentioning the shoddily-wrapped cuts and scrapes on their arms, hands, and feet.

"My apologies for returning without food," Kisame said after a suck of his teeth, "but does this belong to either of you?"

The person glanced up, and she knew him at once. His face was tear-stained, his eyes red-rimmed and sucked dry of that spark she knew so well—had once loved so dearly. Despite his injuries, though, he'd somehow made it all the way here to her in one piece, and there was not a wound in the world Sakura was afraid to lay her hands upon. Especially not those of an old friend like Sasuke.