Chapter 9

They returned to the village shortly after dawn broke though Sakura's heart was too heavy to enjoy the peaceful rising of the sun painting the sky in its romantic shades, gaze soon dropping back to the ground ahead of her. Trying to keep their spirits high was borderline impossible after losing their only lead on Orochimaru's whereabouts—on Sasuke's.

Facing that reality massively outshined the notion of Sasuke taking her seriously now, twisting it with the unlikelihood of their ever crossing paths again. What did it matter if he saw her as a genuine opponent? Orochimaru wasn't going to risk losing his latest fascination. Facing Shisui and Jiraiya undoubtedly made the snake wary—she highly doubted he came away from the battle unscathed—and was going to make it thrice as hard to find another opening to them.

Konoha continued to be bathed in the shadows and stillness of the early morning as they trudged forward in the direction of the Hokage Tower, their arrival likely already announced to Tsunade by the chūnin who signed them in. It wouldn't be for another hour or two that the vendors of the marketplace would start their long days, and she found it eerie walking through the area usually brimming with a homely collective noise of everyone going about their day. Its silence was discomforting.

Sakura yearned for the return of her own fiery determination and hopes, willing herself not to view the mission as a total failure. However, witnessing Itachi's body language the closer they got to the village made that impossible. Try as he might to hold onto that belief of there being a next time, she and Shisui could read the defeat that had his shoulders slipping out of his usually proud posture. Even though he was always quiet, now it held a touch of darkness that warned them he was lost in his thoughts. No amount of comfort could reach him in his despair and Sakura ached viciously at his distance from them, the one that had Shisui repeatedly looking to him with concern.

He wasn't ready to give up—none of them were—but he was disheartened and nothing they said could ease his pain.

And she realised it was only going to get worse for him.

Two others were present alongside Tsunade in the Hokage's office to greet them, their features carefully composed but cracking when Mikoto took a hopeful step forward at the entrance through the door, clasped hands soon fidgeting in a rare show of uncertainty and worry. It was at Itachi's shocking falter before he looked away, like he couldn't bear to face his parents' disappointment, that told the others the outcome of their mission, and Sakura bit the inside of her cheek to try and stay in control of her emotions.

"Forgive me—"

"It's not your fault," insisted Mikoto, but they could all hear the tremor she struggled to hide from her voice.

After the first two failures to retrieve Sasuke from Orochimaru's clutches, Sakura had demanded to know why Tsunade would get their hopes up only to for them to be beaten by the repeated failures. It was cruel, her heart screamed at the sight of their anguish. But even if, for whatever reason, Tsunade didn't have to disclose leads or plans with them regarding their own son, even with the continuous breaking of their hearts, Sakura could tell from their determination that they still wanted to keep well informed. No matter what news it was being shared with them, they had to know, because it was still news. Still an update. Evidence that he was alive and seemingly well.

There was no doubt in her mind that they hadn't slept much, if at all, following their departure.

He was their youngest son.

"Why are we doing this?"

The cold demand of Uchiha Fugaku caused Itachi to stand to attention, though he made no signs of responding to the words of his father. That or he refused to intervene even as he directed his anger and rare show of helplessness at their Hokage.

"Fugaku—"

"That is my son," he interjected, not needing to raise his voice to convey the level of anger and blame. No, he had all that and more in the darkening of his expression alone, in his unblinking glower directed straight at Tsunade. "We should have sent platoons of ANBU after Orochimaru the moment Sasuke left, not children barely out of the academy."

What the hell were you thinking, was the accusation cutting through the air between them all.

Irrespective of her involvement on the mission or once being Sasuke's teammate, Sakura felt as though she was overstepping grossly into personal family issues as they entered a stalemate. Fugaku's thinly veiled anger, Mikoto's heartache, Itachi's despondency and Shisui's helplessness… She shouldn't have been there to witness the shattering of their typically untiring composures. Viewing such a vulnerable side to them all left her lost, suffocating as their emotions piled on top of her own.

They were tearing at the seams with Sasuke gone.

"We have been over this many times," came Tsunade's firm contention.

"What is your excuse now?"

Mikoto's expression wrinkled briefly in a frown that was just as quick to smooth back out while assessing the rest of the room, making Sakura wonder if they'd failed to notice her presence entirely until the moment her eyes locked with the matriarch's. Shock rippled through the composure she strove so hard to lock down, the fierce reclasping of her hands as Mikoto's attention fixated on the injuries marring Sakura's features telling them she knew exactly who raised their hand to her—she knew because it soon brought a tear to her vulnerable eyes.

Gods, she wished there was something—anything—to say that could alleviate the heartache of the older woman, to reassure her that it didn't mean what it looked like. Their Sasuke was still out there, and they had no intentions of giving up on him anytime soon. Could Mikoto see that? Could she feel her determined heart? Could she understand what Sakura tried so hard to convey in her expression alone, not wishing to interrupt the clashing of the Hokage and Uchiha patriarch?

"Send out our forces," Fugaku asserted, unaware of the silent promises and apologies being shared between his wife and Sakura. "The police force will be plenty—"

"And where will that leave the village?" Tsunade argued like it wasn't the first time Fugaku had made the suggestion, sighing. "We rely heavily on the police force to maintain order."

His jaw clenched.

Sensing that no more would be said, she looked to the makeshift team with tightening eyes.

Even if the heads of the clan believed with every fibre of their beings that she didn't care much for Sasuke, that she wasn't going all out trying to retrieve him, Sakura knew different. She knew how deeply it cut Tsunade being unable to predict her former teammate's movements or plans, furious but never wishing her shinobi to see it or believe she was disappointed in them whenever they returned after another failed attempt.

"Report."

They stepped forward at the order with Shisui taking the lead, since he was the captain of that mission. His report was blunt without missing a detail, and Sakura found herself unintentionally tuning out the others as her gaze grew distant, the memories replaying themselves with a ferocious intensity that soon had her sweating and trembling without realising.

It was the clenching of Tsunade's dominant hand before it thundered down on the desk that brought Sakura back to the present, flinching at the abrupt standing and sharpness of her demand, "He set her on fire—"

"It was genjutsu," Shisui corrected but there was no denying he was equally concerned about her. He wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise, Sakura knew. "A powerful one that Sakura had no way of dispelling alone. Had it not been an area I specialise in, even I would have struggled."

Fugaku's lips pursed, eyes widening by just the tiniest amount. It was barely even a hair's width, but after being around so many stoic individuals, there wasn't a chance Sakura could have missed the subtle change in his expression.

Sasuke had always longed for his father's praise and recognition to the extent of exhausting himself physically and mentally. He wished to be regarded with the same pride and respect as his older brother, even if that meant almost dying trying to prove himself. She wondered… Would he be happy to see the look on Fugaku's face in that moment? Would that pride be enough, or would the experience be dampened by it being mixed with fearful disbelief?

A hand discreetly brushed against hers, its touch warm and comforting but more than that, understanding. Looking up at Itachi would alert the others to the soothing moment between them that she didn't want to share, especially not when it meant revealing their raw emotions concerning Sasuke to them. So, all she could do was twitch her fingers to return the gesture in some way, heart soon steadying its rampant rhythm the more she drew from his understanding presence.

They were dismissed shortly although his parents stayed behind to discuss the situation and the plans moving forward. It surprised her when Itachi didn't linger, that he seemed against being involved in the conversation like he knew exactly how it would progress before inevitably stalling in advancements due to the hard-headed natures of the Hokage and patriarch.

Sighing with reluctance as they came to a halt outside the tower, Shisui's head tipped back and she allowed him several moments of peace to bask in the early morning breeze before questioning him. The guy definitely needed a break—a mission failure was hard enough, but that particular mission? Then having to face Sasuke's parents too?

"I need to drop by jōnin headquarters before heading home," he announced just as she was about to ask how he was, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm supposed to fill out some form about taking you under my wing on future missions."

She'd forgotten all about that part of her new training; it certainly brightened her mood being reminded of the change up to her new schedule. Even better, her medical training would continue to take precedence, meaning she really could have it all thanks to Shisui's involvement.

"Do I need to do anything?"

"No, it's more so about clearing you for missions above b-rank and limiting s-ranked considering you're still genin."

She practically thrummed with the thrill of being challenged, uncaring for her hopeless doe eyes as she told him ecstatically, "I can't wait!"

Huffing in amusement, he had her mood threatening to falter briefly by ruffling her hair like she was nothing more than a child, but even that couldn't sway her. It was the pick-me-up she desperately needed—a reminder that despite their stumble in retrieving Sasuke, she certainly wasn't about to grow stagnant in terms of progressing.

Next time, she was going to be stronger.

"Rest up until I come for you," Shisui ordered and she nodded quickly in response, grinning. "In the meantime, try and find out if your family has any vaults we can investigate."

That took her down a notch but she refused to feel disheartened even when knowing the reaction she would likely receive for poking around.

With all that transpired in the past week or so, Sakura had almost forgotten about Haruno Mao and her scrolls. The curiosity was reawakened now though, and she was determined to discover the truth about her lineage.

"See you," Shisui said with a wave over his shoulder.

Spinning on her heel to find that Itachi had decided to stick around, Sakura offered a smile and took the lead. Just in case he was still lost in his thoughts like during the travel home, she shot discreet glances over her shoulder to ensure he was walking with her, heaving mental sighs of relief to see that he was.

Trying to take his mind off their recent failure, Sakura whirled around to walk backwards so that she could look at Itachi as they walked together. "What type of missions does Shisui-sensei usually take?"

Something about her sudden countenance had his gaze softening on her. "He has never been tied to one type of mission," Itachi shared with ease, hands sliding into his pockets. "However, anything he does take has always been higher than a-ranked, so you should prepare yourself the best you can for that."

"Oh?" she asked dreamily, trying to imagine herself in those scenarios. Facing those difficult missions would surely play a part in her growth as a shinobi and Sakura found herself growing antsy to start already. "Do you have any advice or tips?"

Itachi hummed at that, his attention drifting to the path ahead and prompting Sakura to steal a glance behind herself to make sure she wouldn't be getting in anyone's way. However, similarly to their return, it was still much too early for the streets to be busy. They were the only ones who were present, for now, and she folded her arms behind her back in a show of feeling comfortable.

"Trust Shisui's intuition," he surprised her by saying, for Sakura had assumed that was a given. "Be prepared to make difficult decisions and face potentially uncomfortable situations." She nodded to show that she was listening to every word he offered up, heart stuttering briefly when Itachi soon smirked down at her and teased, "And try not to lose your temper too much."

Pouting, she made a show of turning her head in a different direction only to then glance to him from the corner of her eye haughtily. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm sure Naruto-kun would know—"

The act dropped as she snapped disbelievingly, "He licked me, Itachi-san! Licked—" Her hand shot upwards until it was right in his face, waving obnoxiously. "—right here. You can probably see the acid burns from his toxic saliva."

At the fourth unrelenting shaking, her hand was swiftly captured, and Itachi made a show of investigating the unmarred skin before his smirk widened. Telling her, "I assure you being licked has not chemically burned your hand, even with the assailant being Naruto-kun."

"What would you know?" she shot at him sulkily, pout returning at full force when she managed to yank her hand free of his grasp. "You're probably as bad as Shisui-sensei and don't see why it's so gross."

"Oh?"

Only too grateful to see that she was truly dragging him out of his bad mood, Sakura surprised him by having them coming to an abrupt halt and she sized him up with a narrowing, playful glare. It only made the humoured intrigue in his own gaze increase, the sight causing the pain of their failure to continue to chip away.

"The men in my life typically fall into two categories," she informed him in a know-it-all type of manner, two fingers shooting up like she needed to emphasise the point being made. It had him snorting and folding his arms over his chest. "Perverts, and assholes."

Amused, he asked, "Which category do I come under?"

Sakura pursed her lips in consideration, because that was a good question. Without a doubt, Itachi definitely wasn't an asshole—he'd done so much for her from the moment he took over as Team Seven's temporary captain, and continued to motivate her on her darkest days. An asshole wouldn't chastise their brother for being so cruel during her struggles in training, nor would he go out of his way to set her up with a sensei better suited to her.

"Well, you're not an asshole—you must be a one of a kind. For now, anyways," she told him cheekily, grinning at the surprised raising of his eyebrows. "I just hope you don't disappoint me like Shisui-sensei has by being a closet pervert."

It brought forth an addicting warmth in her chest when Itachi chuckled at her words, one that grew in intensity when he urged her to continue walking with a gentle push. "I will do my best not to disappoint you then."

It didn't take Sakura long to notice that he was walking her home, the walk short and quiet but no longer possessing that suffocating air of defeat. Unlike their return to the village, she no longer found the silence of the deserted streets so discomforting—not with him by her side, anyway. Instead, Sakura enjoyed the extra moments of privacy that allowed her to view the side Itachi so rarely showed others, the one Team Seven caught glimpses of during his brief leadership. He hadn't shown her that genuine, heartfelt smile as he did the day Sasuke nailed a difficult jutsu, but Sakura could feel in the lightness surrounding them that it would only be a matter of time. Her heart refused to believe otherwise.

Coming to a slow stop at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment, she turned to look up Itachi and asked, "If I fail to beat any answers out of my dad, will you help me investigate?"

"Perhaps I should help before it gets to the stage of beating up your father."

Sakura waved off the concern dismissively and told him simply, "It'll be fine. He falls under the asshole category."

Snorting lightly at that, he gestured to the stairs with a tip of his chin and told her with a surprising sarcasm, "I'm sure that would be a great place to start when asking him for information."

She grinned.

The quiet they lapsed into had him sighing after a moment of assessing her features, reminding Sakura of the bruises and split lip she was allowing to heal naturally. The only injury she'd partially healed with the use of chakra was the severe bruising to her abdomen, and only because it hindered her movements.

Recalling the Uchiha duos collective wince and guilt at the presenting of the angry deep purple and blue splotches was what caused Sakura to falter in disrupting Itachi's sudden guilt-laden silence, knowing they were both holding back how they truly felt.

"Sasuke once asked me for advice on training with you," he shocked her by admitting softly, eyes distant even as they remained locked on her injuries. "He said even while knowing it could benefit you in the long run, he had difficulty causing you any harm." The parting of her split lips brought him back to the present and Itachi sighed, focus redirecting to her eyes. "He resolved to growing strong enough to make up for your lack of strength instead of motivating you to improve."

That was… Although it shed light to how fiercely Sasuke had protected her during their days together on Team Seven, Sakura struggled with the notion of him ever viewing her as anything other than an annoying burden.

"Seeing you like this…" Itachi shifted his weight onto his left foot before averting his gaze almost like he was ashamed of where his thoughts were headed, causing her to grow worried that he would side with Shisui in being unable to forgive Sasuke. Instead, Itachi had her shoulders sagging with relief by finally looking back to her and saying, "Like you, I am all the more determined to bring Sasuke home before he slips further away from us."

She tried to lighten the tension that was steadily returning to their shoulders, saying, "He better apologise for messing my face up."

It worked, much to her astonishment, for he shot back, "If not, you can always weaponize Naruto-kun's acidic saliva to force him to submit. I can imagine his reaction to being licked would mirror yours."

Oh, Sakura knew it would—no, Sasuke's reaction would be all the more furious and unlike her, who held back in responding too violently, he would not.

But before she could open her mouth to reply, she felt a swell of annoyance as they heard the shuffling from behind her front door that was no doubt her parents preparing to head off for work. It sucked, she realised, because she wanted nothing more than to continue the first light-hearted conversation she'd had with Itachi since back before the chūnin exams. Everything since was loaded with regret and pain, so even with their bonding over their mutual heartache, it oftentimes grew too heavy to pursue any conversation for too long.

She didn't want to say goodbye yet.

"I…" The words died on her tongue when Sakura looked back to Itachi, a sudden bout of nervousness trying to make holding eye contact difficult. Still, she did her best to smile at him while confessing, "I can't wait to work with you and Shisui-sensei."

His expression softened.

Well, there was nothing in the apartment other than photographs.

Put out but continuing to maintain curiosity, Sakura dropped heavily to the ground beside her parents' bed. The six photo albums left behind by her late grandmother were beaten with age, a shocking contrast to the ninjutsu scroll Itachi had allowed her to borrow. She hoped it was from decades of being used rather than a lack of care, because if they went back far enough then perhaps they would have at least one picture of Haruno Mao.

After all, even if they denounced their shinobi heritage, she was the one to restore the Haruno Clan. She would imagine it to be disrespectful for there to be a lack of acknowledgement.

Sakura found herself taking her time rather than rushing through the albums, admiring the growth of their family. Even as civilians they were united and each photograph that included every member of the family showed them all happy and smiling, all linked up in some way or another—up until her sixth birthday, that was. While the others continued to embrace her or remain close, the distance wedging between her and Kizashi was well documented. He no longer sat her atop his shoulders to ensure she was the main focus in family photographs. Instead, they gradually grew further and further apart until they were on entirely opposite sides of the group.

"Idiot," she muttered angrily at his grinning face.

Why was it so disappointing for her to go against the flow of their family by becoming a kunoichi? Why couldn't her father simply be happy for her? The ache in her heart pleaded for it to be because of their heritage, that he wasn't disappointed with her but instead concerned about what it could spell for the future of their family.

How would it even impact them? Sakura couldn't see it. Even if Madara was the one to get Mao pregnant—she wasn't even sure if she had more than the one child, either—it wasn't like it changed much. It wouldn't suddenly grant them the ability to activate the sharingan and even if she did somehow manage that impossible feat, then what were the chances of her even being able to utilise it when half-blooded Uchiha struggled? More to the point, what difference did a child born out of wedlock (in those times) make?

Finished with the most recent album, she placed it down on the pile of those she'd already looked through before setting her sights on the final one, saddened to find none of the previous excitement remained as she picked it up.

It was a pipedream hoping that a connection to Uchiha Madara meant change.

And yet—

Sakura lurched forward at the inscriptions on the inside of the cover she brought closer suddenly, only for green eyes to brighten considerably at the familiar symbols Tsunade had recognised, and Shisui confirmed.

Mao and Madara.

Infuriating her, there were no pictures of Madara—she would recognise him, at least—though she found herself growing increasingly antsy with each brittle page she flipped. Even as her back ached from being hunched over and her fingers threatened to lock with their death grip, Sakura was unable to compose herself. And that apprehension transformed into agitation when Madara was nowhere to be seen.

Someone was interfering, she suspected and growled. It made no sense for the symbols for Madara's name to be in the photo album if there were no photographs.

Returning to the first photograph that showed its age in the discolouration and tattered edges, Sakura wondered if the blurred woman was Haruno Mao. Details were severely lacking though she supposed that was only to be expected if it was Mao, seeing as that meant the photograph was well over a hundred years old.

She was pretty, Sakura thought after a few moments of assessing the woman.

Hair neatly styled into a large bun indicated to long hair, and she'd brushed her bangs to the side—a style Sakura often longed to wear though refrained due to the raging forehead insecurity. Other than the hairstyle, however, the only other detail that was for certain was the impressive kimono she wore. Definitely not one that would be worn nowadays, Sakura noted with a burst of returning excitement.

"Sakura?"

Despite the natural flinching response of being caught red handed, she soon sounded her presence in their bedroom. Who cared if they caught her? She needed to question them anyways, and the photo albums were perhaps the best way to delve into it all.

But it seemed only her mother had returned for lunch that day, which was probably for the best, Sakura thought with a sigh. Her father was always a pushover when it came to his wife, unable to resist her for long before he gave in. It was a power she was unable to figure out, though she hoped Mebuki would share it with her one day. Even if it never worked on Kizashi then at least she had it for her own future husband.

Then again, Sakura had no intentions of marrying anyone who fell into the asshole category.

"What are you doing in here?" Mebuki questioned curiously and peeked over the side of the chest of drawers, only to then blink in surprise at the sight of the albums neatly piled up beside her. "Eh, are you feeling sentimental suddenly?"

Nice in, she thought happily.

Smiling sheepishly, Sakura nodded and relaxed back against the bed that Mebuki soon moved to sit atop. Her mother looked to the photo from over her shoulder, but for the most part, Sakura saw no signs of recognition.

"I was talking with Ino-Pig before leaving for my mission and she said her dad won't stop going on about their family history," she lied with ease and held up the album like she was using it as an example. "It made me realise that Dad never really talks about ours."

The older woman shuffled to sit beside her on the floor rather than behind her and reached for the photo album, fingertips tracing the ancient pages with a gentleness that surprised Sakura. It wasn't that Mebuki was a harsh woman, but she wasn't exactly gentle either. Her mother was tough as hell and despite being a civilian, didn't always realise her strength.

"He doesn't really, does he?" It was said like she was talking more to herself, sounding deep in thought until Mebuki carefully turned the page. Apparently, she didn't find it odd that there were symbols she couldn't understand on the inside of the cover—if she even noticed them at all. "But I suppose we never really ask, do we?"

Sakura huffed in disbelief and argued, "I have."

But her mother snorted. "You yell at him and accuse him. There's a difference." At the daring expression she was settled with in response to the under the breath mutterings that captured Mebuki's attention, Sakura instantly snapped her mouth shut and offered another sheepish smile. "What are you hoping to find about our family history, anyway?"

Could she share the truth about the scrolls and potentially being linked to Madara, or was it way too soon to involve her parents? Maybe it wasn't, but Sakura knew her mother was relatively clueless when it came to family matters on Kizashi's side—she often said as much.

"Ino has a really cute pair of earrings that are a family heirloom," Sakura said instead. "Shikamaru and Choji do, too." Returning her focus to the photos that showed the woman on the first page only three more times before seemingly moving on to the next generation, she then wondered aloud, "I wonder if we have any?"

Humming contemplatively, Mebuki sat back comfortably and tapped her lips. The thoughtfulness dragged out and Sakura strongly suspected she was, in fact, clueless, but then her mother left her stunned when she answered in far more detail than she expected of her, "I'm not too sure, you know. We packed up most of your grandmother's belongings when she passed and divided them between your dad and his kid brothers, but I would imagine anything like that would be with your dad."

Damn it. It was as she suspected would be the case but continued to hope wouldn't be. "Did he keep her belongings?" Sakura asked with a fake childish curiosity.

"Not everything, I don't think," Mebuki said thoughtfully. "We don't really have the storage space for everything we found at your grandmother's house."

Shit. "He donated it all?" The responding shrug irritated her but Sakura knew to keep it from showing it. Arguing with her father was one thing—she knew better than to talk back to her mother, the woman who she inherited her dangerous temper from. "I can't see him donating any of it," she said instead and gestured to the other albums. "You know what he's like whenever I bring something like this up. He gets all overemotional and annoying—"

Reprimanding knuckles thumped over the top of her head and promptly shut Sakura up from badmouthing her father any further. She offered her mother an apologetic, awkward smile when she braved glancing up at her, making Mebuki shake her head and sigh.

"Quit trash talking my husband," she warned with a roll of her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." Before that response could also be reprimanded, Sakura swiftly and unsubtly changed the subject by asking, "Were you looking for me? You called for me when you came in."

Going off the simple and old qipao her mother was wearing, she knew she was working that day (she refused to wear her newer, prettier outfits when working just in case they were ruined in some way). It wasn't unusual for Mebuki to slip away to run a few errands though, so her returning randomly wasn't out of the ordinary.

The hand that had just disciplined her returned to the top of Sakura's head to run through her hair, wordlessly guiding her into facing her mother. Concern was written all over her expression in a way that was far too familiar and had Sakura wondering if she could ever hope to compose her features. It like looking in a mirror in some ways.

"I wanted to check in on you. You came home all beaten up." Green eyes searched green before sliding shut with her next sigh, Mebuki's shoulders slumping. "I will always be supportive of your dreams—"

"But?"

"But seeing my only child coming home looking like this is scary," she replied quietly, not caring about the rude interruption.

There was no use in arguing that that was what being a shinobi was all about—fighting to protect their village even if it meant being roughed up in the process—because it was a side of Sakura that her family couldn't comprehend, no matter how many times she explained any of it. They couldn't understand why she was so okay with being hurt, or why she pushed herself to the point of exhaustion so many times. In their minds it was unfathomable that her chosen profession involved life threatening circumstances that she welcomed and, in terms of Tsunade's deadly training or Shisui's petrifying ambushes, encouraged.

Leaning their sides closer together, Mebuki went on to fondly say, "You'll understand one day when you have a child of your own."

Unlikely to happen when all the men in her life wound up in those two categories—that was what she wanted to say. However, that then meant going back to seemingly trash talking her father, which she knew would only serve to piss Mebuki off.

Focus dropping to her scraped knuckles, Sakura found herself bombarded by the memories of recent events and ended up fully relaxing into her mother's side, heaving a sigh. The comfort she was wrapped in was everything she didn't know she needed, particularly when Mebuki resumed to comb her fingers through Sakura's hair in a gentle rhythm that had her shutting her eyes.

"I'll see what I can get out of your dad," she soon told her. "He'll be in a good mood tonight—I'm making his favourite for dinner."

She chuckled despite her foul mood before thanking her mother by tightening the hug.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," she stressed.

A shared look of what Sakura could only assume to be frustration kickstarted her pacing in front of them. They remained reclined against the wooden training posts she would soon be using for target practice, relaxed despite her annoyance.

"Mom did everything to butter him up," Sakura ranted at no one in particular, continuing with her pacing and throwing her hands about like her father was right there and she was gesturing to him. "And he still refused to talk about any of it once he heard I was looking into it all."

One of Itachi's eyebrows quirked upwards at the revelation, and he asked, "You told them about the scrolls?"

Sighing as she came to an abrupt halt in her pacing, she dug out the photo album with Madara's name inscribed on the inside of the cover and knelt between the two men, holding it open to show them her findings. They didn't try reaching out to touch the album, clearly noticing how old and brittle it was, so Sakura was the one to show them the picture of who she strongly believed to be Mao.

"I didn't say anything about the scrolls to them for this reason," she told them while delicately flipping the pages.

Catching on, Shisui suspected, "You would think a photo album with his name on would have at least one photograph of Madara."

"And more than three of Mao," continued Itachi.

Somebody was hiding the history of her family. To lie about it was one thing, but to proceed to wipe out evidence of it? To hide photographs of somebody's life and act so clueless when questioned about it? Had it been her own past being so carelessly tossed out, Sakura would have… Well, she supposed there wasn't much she could about it really, being dead and all, but it would have broken her heart regardless. That was her life. Her love… maybe.

"I don't think there's a decoder," she shared her thoughts aloud with them and returned the photo album to her pack. "Maybe there used to be, but I think whoever threw out the photographs probably didn't stop there."

It didn't make sense for them to stop at photographs, not when there was an archives room that housed their history—a history that was protected by two separate codes, for whatever reason. Gods, it was bugging the hell out of her now that it had returned to being her main focus.

Shisui slumped forward to rest his chin in his hands, dark eyes thoughtful for a few moments. Sakura hoped he spent longer considering where that left them because she had no idea how to move on from there. Without finding some form of assistance, they couldn't continue to decipher the scrolls and discover more about Mao and the restoration of the Haruno clan.

"May I see the inscriptions again?"

Without thinking twice about it, Sakura handed over the photo album though found she held her breath watching Itachi open it to look at the names scribbled there. Even if she and her father were always butting heads, it was clear that he cherished those albums. They were precious and she had to make sure they weren't damaged in any way.

"The original scroll—"

It was already being unravelled for Itachi to compare the writing and Sakura chastised herself for not thinking of the possibility sooner. Eagerly, she leaned forward onto her hands to get a better look when he pointed out the difference in the calligraphy, soon looking up at him with a grin. Whether the idea came from her or not didn't matter, not when they were taking a step forward.

"I thought so when you first showed it to us; that is not Haruno Mao's handwriting."

She looked to Shisui, questioning, "Do you think it's Madara's?"

His fingers tapped a brief rhythm of visible indecision, gaze soon sweeping sideways to glance at Itachi while he rolled Mao's original scroll back up. "It's possible," he allowed after a considerable pause. "But I wonder why they wouldn't remove their names along with everything else."

"You think it may be a false lead?" Itachi wondered.

"Possibly."

Sakura supposed it was odd the more she thought about it.

The youngest of the two men sighed and once more looked through the photographs, taking particular notice of the ones including Mao. Then, he casually stated, "You look alike."

They did? She leaned forward once more before squeezing into the space between them both, thanking Itachi when he shifted the album onto her lap so they could all see the pictures together.

The first photograph was too blurred for them to really make a comparison, but at the second, Shisui canted his head to assess her profile and hummed a quiet agreement. Although she wasn't entirely in agreement, the superficial side of Sakura didn't hate the notion, for Mao (if that was Mao, she reminded herself) was unquestionably beautiful.

It was clear neither had paid particular interest to the photo album the first time she flipped through the pages other than to try and spot Madara (just as she had the first time), because on the third photo of Mao, Shisui jolted with recognition, leaving them just as shocked by saying, "I think that's Shodai-sama's wife."

"You're supposed to be resting."

Sakura did her best not to appear too sheepish standing before Tsunade, however couldn't stop the dipping of her head to try and escape the piercing amber eyes. She probably should have changed out of the clothes the blonde knew she wore for training, rather than gone straight to the Hokage Tower.

"I know. I'm sorry, Tsunade-shishou."

The presence of the two Uchiha men prevented Tsunade from ripping into her too harshly. To do so would have meant betraying patient confidentiality—not that there was even anything to report, Sakura thought with a grumble of annoyance.

All it was, as of that moment, was concern over the potential psychological damage from Sasuke's brutal genjutsu. Even when Sakura tried insisting that it wasn't the first time (or even the last) she'd suffered through such a rough genjutsu (since Kakashi had borderline traumatised her during the bell test, which was soon followed up by Orochimaru's paralysing genjutsu and now Shisui's training also), Tsunade refused to back down. According to the blonde, it was different coming from a precious person.

Rather than arguing further, Sakura knew it was best to accept the orders. There was no harm in undergoing a few examinations when she knew nothing was going to come of them.

She was fine.

"We are unable to continue deciphering Haruno Mao's scrolls without a decoder for the Haruno code," Shisui informed their Hokage following her demand to know what they wanted. "Sakura is trying to find out what she can from her parents, but so far this is the only new information."

At the nod to go ahead, Sakura approached Tsunade's desk and placed down the photo album, first indicating to the names inscribed in a penmanship that didn't belong to Mao, then going through the photographs to reveal the Hokage's wife standing alongside Mao.

"Oh?" she hummed, visibly intrigued. The book was pulled closer, fingertips hovering over the image of her grandmother but never touching, before Tsunade scooted forward in her impressive chair to lean onto the desk, propping her chin onto the back of her hand. "If I were to hazard a guess then I would pinpoint that to shortly before their wedding."

"What makes you sure?" questioned Itachi. His tone was vaguely curious, but Sakura noted in surprise that it was harder to get a read of him in front of Tsunade. She wondered why that was, unless he was simply uncomfortable being so open around others.

Amber eyes continued to marvel at the photograph of her grandmother in a manner that had Sakura warming to Tsunade, respecting the rare show of familial love.

"Her hair," she soon answered their wonderings, finally glancing up. "Grandmother told me she always wore it down before their wedding." Snickering at the memory that had her finally enjoying something from her otherwise traumatic past, she then added, "It was her way of trying to gain the attention of my grandfather."

That sounded all too familiar to Sakura, and her cheeks coloured recalling how insistent she had once been when growing out her own hair, foolishly believing it would somehow be the trigger for Sasuke falling in love with her. As of that moment it just barely reached her collarbone, though she was undecided on whether she wanted to grow it out again.

"I will check to see if this woman appears in any of their keepsakes. However, you will need to give me some time to unearth my grandparents' belongings—they have been in storage for decades and are well protected, given who they were."

Hope was restored for uncovering the truth about her family's history, and she shot a grin over her shoulder at Itachi and Shisui. Their responses were far less obvious, but she liked to believe there was happiness somewhere in those stoic expressions.

They were dismissed following a brief discussion about Shisui or Itachi delving into Madara's scrolls, the curt reminder for the use of discretion reminding Sakura how secretive the Uchiha clan tended to be. It wasn't so much the history, Shisui informed her, but more so the risks of their clan secrets being revealed. She deduced (since he wouldn't confirm such a fact) that although they weren't out in the open (in the archives room), their secrets did exist in writing somewhere likely in the same code, and so promptly stopped being nosey.

"Itachi," Tsunade called just as they turned to leave. "Stay behind."

No questions or uncertainty presented in his expression, leading her to believe he knew what their Hokage wanted to discuss. Whatever it was couldn't have been anything positive though—Shisui's second glance kicked up Sakura's gut instinct.

"Let's go," he said just as her mouth opened to question him. "We've already missed an hour of training."

Even as she accepted the orders, she couldn't help but focus more on the finality of the door shutting behind them.

It was later that night when he came to find her.

The rest of their apartment was silent as it scraped past midnight; her parents had turned in shortly after ten, claiming they had a busy day the next day and needed to rest up. Sakura was unable to sleep, however. Instead, she hunched over the desk in her bedroom with just a single lamp to illuminate her working space, immersing herself in the scroll on ninjutsu Itachi shared with her.

She wasn't entirely sure why she couldn't sleep that night, but knew it had something to do with Shisui's quietness during training. He seemed distracted almost, though not enough for her to feel confident in calling him out. Still, it left her with a hollowness in the pit of her stomach that continued to grow throughout the day, seemingly tripling in size when Itachi returned and barely an hour later, she was being dismissed.

They hadn't joined her in returning to the village and while Sakura believed it to be weird at the time, she hadn't questioned them.

Now she wished she had.

The light rapping of knuckles on the glass doors had Sakura stilling, heart thundering away in her chest as it begged of her to ignore it. That sinking sensation in the pit of her hollow stomach was too much to bear—too much like that dreadful night that ended in her waking the next morning on a stone bench.

It wasn't fair, she wanted to snap after reluctantly looking in the direction of her balcony and spotting the recognisable figure standing outside. Even dressed in his ANBU uniform, Sakura was vaguely surprised to realise she would know his silhouette, though that feeling didn't last for long.

After returning feeling so defeated, she had believed nothing could cheer them up. She'd ached witnessing Itachi distancing himself and feeling so powerless to prevent it. But somehow, it turned around. They'd talked and laughed and… and it felt like they were really starting to become friends who had more in common than a shared heartache.

Had he known all along that he was leaving? Was that why he was more open than usual?

At least he came to say goodbye, she tried to lessen the blow by pointing out.

Itachi was patient as she eventually pressed up out of her seat and approached the doors, stomach twisting at the sight of his mask resting atop his head. It didn't look like he had anything on him—a rucksack, a cloak—and stupidly, the first thought that came to mind at the assessment was that he was going to get cold.

"You're leaving," she accused.

If it was just a mission then he wouldn't have bothered visiting her so late at night. Shisui could have told her the next day where he was, and when they could expect him home to return to training. No, the sound of Tsunade's office doors shutting behind them repeated in her mind and replaced the noise of her own shutting to try and lessen the chances of her parents overhearing the conversation.

It was painfully obvious why, but still, she had to ask, "Are you going after Sasuke-kun?"

"Orochimaru, officially."

Sakura nodded, focus slipping to the stone at their feet.

Trying to tell herself that it only made sense for him to not waste time by hanging around waiting for her to grow stronger didn't help. Not even a little. Not knowing he was chasing after someone like Orochimaru and his terrifying experiments who were all insanely strong. Itachi was powerful, talented, but he was also human. Did he at least have a squad to back him up? To watch his back and make sure he wasn't overdoing it and continuing to take care of himself?

All Sakura could recall in that moment was his lack of appetite for the whole week of their mission, and how even before then, she couldn't recall him eating much. Looking back at him then only made the worries amplify, and she was silenced by the solid weight of apprehension in her gut that was worsened by the stress permanently etching itself into his features. How hadn't she noticed before? Back during the chūnin exams, his tear troughs hadn't been half as pronounced as they were now; he hadn't been as tensed or withdrawn.

What if he got sick out there?

Concern, fear and a touch of affection had Sakura stepping forward, hands raising—to do what, she wasn't entirely sure—before falling limply to her sides, knowing there was absolutely nothing she could say or do to make him reconsider. Not when his little brother was out there and each day that passed them by meant one day closer to Orochimaru taking over his body.

If anybody could drag Sasuke home, then it was the older brother he adored and admired, Sakura tried to tell herself.

"Forgive me for going back on the promise to decipher your ancestor's scrolls—"

Did he think that was what had her feeling so upset in that moment? "Forget the scrolls," Sakura told him earnestly, snapping a little even as she told herself to toughen up. There was no reason for her to feel so hurt by his leaving. "Bringing Sasuke-kun home is a hundred times more important. Just…"

It didn't matter whether she was being overemotional. Didn't matter if she was stupid for being upset with his leaving. What mattered was…

What mattered was that Sakura found herself breathless at the realisation it could be months before she next saw him again. For reasons unbeknownst to her, the thought of not seeing Itachi around the village or in training caused an ache deep within her chest.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"Please be safe," she continued after taking a moment to fight back her rampaging emotions, hoping they weren't too obvious. "Make sure you eat too—you're going to get sick, and if you get sick then how can you go against someone like Orochimaru—"

Dark eyes softened on the no doubt pitiful sight she made, though she was grateful that he didn't tease her for being so overly sensitive. Instead, he silenced the tirade before it truly began by quietly telling her, "I will write to you if and when I'm able to."

"…Okay."

Without anything left to be said between them, Itachi turned to leave but she called out his name just as he reached for his mask. His head tilted in her direction, killing her as she saw the weariness in his eyes that reminded of their return. Back when he'd been unable to meet the weight of his parents' disappointment.

Shaking off her heartache, Sakura offered a small, hopeful smile and reminded him, "Give it time and give it your all."

His shoulders relaxed somewhat, and she was graced with a gentle smile. "I expect you to do the same."

A/N - Sorry for the sudden silence on this one (and many others, I know). This past year has been a rollercoaster and I'm so, so tired. But hopefully this is the year when things finally start looking up for us!