This update took a bit longer than expected due to a sudden bout of writer's block. If the chapter feels a bit stilted and/or piecemeal to you, please let me know! It is definitely something I would like to work on.

Thank you for all the encouragement. It really helped me get through the writer's block, and I am deeply grateful for the support this story continues to receive.

Theory ahead! So much, in fact, that I decided to split some of it into a later chapter. Theory is based on my imagination and what I remember from the anime (I watched up to episode ~120), so if there's anything that doesn't make sense or seems highly non-compliant with the canon, please bring it to my attention!

Thank you all so much.

Chapter 13

It is the same scene again.

A throng of women sharing morning gossip in front of the Academy gates as their children, finally released from class, flock over and begin to whine for food. The late autumn sun shining indifferently down, cloaking everyone's backs in gossamer warmth.

Itachi...and Sasuke. With a bright peal of laughter, the younger boy leaps atop Itachi's back and wraps his fingers around his brother's neck.

"Take me to lunch, aniki!"

The same scene...but this time, Itachi turns around. He looks over. He nods at her, the smallest dip of his chin, face blank but eyes kind. And Sakura smiles back, and takes the first step forward.

Because this time, she is not the same.

Weaving through the crowd takes some time, but Itachi discreetly waits for her. Sasuke, however, grows alarmed as soon as he catches sight of the approaching member of the opposite sex.

"Aniki," the boy whispers urgently into his brother's ear. "Quick, we gotta go—I think there's a fangirl coming!" He tugs desperately at Itachi's shirtsleeve, panic increasing exponentially as pink hair stops near his ankle.

"Aniki!"

Sakura bows in greeting. "Hello, Itachi-san, Sasuke-san."

"Sakura-san," Itachi responds, inclining his head in return.

Sasuke pauses. "Aniki?"

"Manners," Itachi chides gently.

"Oh. Hi, Sakura," Sasuke says as he pokes his head over Itachi's shoulder to look down at her. "Wait, so you two know each other?"

"Ah, well," Sakura stutters, "kind of—"

"We are friends," Itachi says. He begins to walk .

"What?!" Sasuke whips his head around to stare at Sakura for confirmation.

Unsure how else to react, Sakura winds up nodding at the ground, studiously avoiding eye contact with Sasuke as she walks alongside the brothers.

Sasuke, naturally, demands to be let down in the face of company, and spends the next several minutes bombarding his companions with questions. Where did they meet? How long have they been friends? When have they hung out—without him? Why hasn't Itachi ever mentioned this before? Sakura's presence prompts him to act unaffected, but his puffed-up cheeks betray his indignance.

That, and his insistence on walking in the center of the trio.

Itachi shoots Sakura a rueful glance that is four parts amused, one part apologetic, and fields Sasuke's questions with a series of noncommittal hums.

"Aniki!" cries the increasingly-frustrated boy. When Itachi only smiles, he falls into a sullen silence—one peppered with occasional frowns aimed in Sakura's direction.

It is not an ideal first meeting, and Sakura tries not to fret at the possibility of turning into her classmate's archenemy for the remainder of her Academy years. Mentally, she runs through a list of olive-branch conversation starters, but rejects them all:

Are you okay, Sasuke-san? Pointless question.

It's nice to meet you, though, Sasuke-san. Sounds passive-aggressive.

Itachi-san told me you like tomatoes. Seriously?

Silently sighing in her mind, Sakura resigns herself to an awkward walk home. And then Sasuke decides to address her out of the blue.

"I'm sorry?" Sakura stammers. Her cheeks begin to burn.

Sasuke huffs. "I said, since you're coming to lunch with us, we can get both the tuna-and-tomato onigiri and the steak-and-tomato onigiri! Okay, aniki?" He turns to look at Itachi with large, imploring eyes. "Sakura can help me finish the steak one this time since you don't like steak!"

"Only if Sakura-san wants to eat steak and tomatoes," Itachi replies with a warm look in her direction.

"Oh, I wasn't—I mean, you don't have to—it's fine," Sakura says, feeling like a bumbling idiot. They've arrived at a restaurant, she only just notices: it's small, but elegantly decorated and located in one of the classiest parts of the village. Definitely out of her budget. "I was, um, just going to eat at home."

"You are expecting guests?"

"Well no, I just...have a lot of leftovers—"

"Then I insist," Itachi cuts in smoothly. "It will be my treat."

Ah, Itachi. Ever-discerning. Placing a gentle hand at the base of Sasuke and Sakura's spines, he sweeps the two of them inside, thereby ending the discussion.

The interior of the building is understated and clean, and the staff clearly know the two brothers well. Guiding them to a quiet table in a back corner, their waiter tactfully slips a menu before Sakura once she finds her seat.

"Would Uchiha-san and Uchiha-san like to order their usuals?"

"Yes, thank you."

The waiter bows. "I will come back in a few minutes," he says, and slips away.

Sakura decides on the steak-and-tomato onigiri, to Sasuke's great delight and Itachi's slight concern.

"We will order something else if it is not to your liking," Itachi tells her, but the dish turns out to be delicious. She trades one of her three rice balls for one of Sasuke's, and the boy happily scarfs down his lunch, then nicks another one of her steak onigiris and eats that, too.

"Sasuke," Itachi admonishes.

"Sakura said I could!" Sasuke defends through a mouthful of meat and tomatoes. "She said she was full!"

"Sasuke."

"I'm sorry, Sakura," Sasuke says. He lowers his eyes in a show of contrition. "If you're not full, maybe we can order another one?"

"Sasuke."

Sakura can only stare at their interaction, a bemused bystander. A few weeks ago, the scene might have induced a lump in her throat, or left her feeling numb and cold.

Today, it only sends a wave of warmth to her chest. It makes her think of homemade anmitsu on hot summer days, afternoon games of find-the-ninja in the backyard, midnight stargazing on the rooftop. It makes her want to cry, but more importantly, it also makes her want to laugh.

So Sakura leans into that second feeling, lets that lightness tingle up her throat and out of her mouth in bright, golden bubbles of joy.

The brothers pause at the sound and turn to her, a reaction that causes her to realize that neither of them have seen her laugh before. Sasuke, because she has always been quiet in class, and Itachi...because she has never truly laughed during the entirety of the time she's known him. It makes her laugh harder, that strange but once-familiar feeling. Laugh until her sides ache and her lungs contract, no longer able to take in more air; laugh until the laughter dissolves into giggles and breathy gasps and—oh, she almost wishes she would never recover.

Sasuke is looking at her with an expression of baffled incredulity, but his older brother only smiles.

"You seem well," Itachi says simply. It relights the summer in her heart.

"Yes, I...I guess I am," Sakura responds. "I've been...visiting my father, recently." She watches as her answer registers on his face: the glint of understanding sliding into his eyes, the slight lowering of long lashes. He doesn't say anything more, just quietly raises his hand for the waiter while ignoring Sasuke's renewed questions.

They end up sharing a plate of dango. Well, she and Itachi do; Sasuke turns out to hate sweets. But in an unexpected display of attentiveness, Sasuke had exclaimed to the table that "whenever Sakura has sweets at the academy, she always chooses dango!," and Itachi had seemed all too happy with the idea of getting an order, so how could she refuse?

"Sakura...you should have stopped me from eating that last rice ball," Sasuke groans as he watches her bite into the last dango left on her skewer, a matcha-flavored one, and pull the sticky rice dumpling into her mouth with her front teeth. He quickly averts his eyes when she begins chewing, a vaguely nauseous look flitting across his face.

"Sasuke-san, are you alright?"

The boy shakes his head slightly and covers his stomach with his hands. "Can't talk. Might...get sick," he mumbles in a strained voice.

And then he unceremoniously plops his head onto her shoulder and closes his eyes.

Itachi gives them a highly amused look, and Sakura can do nothing but smile back sheepishly, secretly gladdened that Sasuke has warmed up to her so quickly. In a way, her classmate reminds her of Naruto: more delicate, more commanding, and more mischievous perhaps, but possessing that same bright essence which arises only from an unequivocal trust in the goodness of others.

It makes Sakura want to be better. And she begins to understand why Itachi loves his brother so much.

"Itachi-san, should we sit for a little longer?" she asks as their waiter surreptitiously clears their dessert plate off the table. "To give Sasuke-san some time to recover?"

"It's fine," Sasuke sighs against her hair, "aniki can carry me."

Itachi, who had just pulled out a handful of ryō from his pocket, stills for a moment and gives Sasuke a look.

"Aa."

With a grin, Sasuke sits up and drags Sakura out of her seat, instantly looking better. "Thanks aniki! Sakura and I will wait for you outside then!" he calls, already making for the door.

Highly devious, Sakura decides as she follows him.

"Come on Sakura, hurry up," Sasuke urges as they reach the entrance. He turns around, arm outstretched to pull her outside, and does not see the shadow fall across the white fabric dividers. Does not hear the wooden cane make its first landing onto the restaurant's tiles with a soft clack.

But Sakura does.

"Watch out!" Reacting on pure reflex, she grabs Sasuke's hand and yanks him back toward her. Briefly anchoring the ball of one heel to the ground with chakra, she uses Sasuke's momentum to spin the two of them around, barely missing the old man's face as he ducks his head beneath the cloth flaps and into the store.

"Wh-what was that for?" Sasuke slurs out, dizzy and confused from the sudden maneuver. He clutches his head with one hand.

But Sakura cannot answer, for her throat is suddenly dry and her limbs weak and her eyes arrested—arrested by that lone, unreadable orb which stares back at her from a wrinkled face half-covered in bandages.

"Shimura-sama." Itachi's voice resonates politely from her side, and she forces her gaze to shift one, two millimeters to the side to catch a glimpse of his comforting smile. But no smile greets her this time, only dark eyes as blank and chilly as any porcelain mask.

The old man ignores Itachi and continues to look at Sakura for a moment. She feels her joints threatening to lock beneath his gaze, the gaze of a person important and powerful enough to simply disregard a member of an influential clan without consequence.

And then, he smiles: a small tug of his lips into a crookedly benevolent half-moon. It relaxes his jaw, brightens his face, and leaves Sakura completely at a loss.

"W-we're very sorry...Shimura-sama," Sakura stutters out between frozen lips. "I—"

"It is quite alright," the old man responds. His voice is low and gravelly, but clear. "No harm done. What is your name?"

"...Haruno...Sakura, sir." Sakura tries not to wince as the words leave her mouth, but the man's smile does not even waver.

"Very nice," he says instead, in that same pleased tone. "My name is Shimura Danzo." He shifts his gaze. "And this must be Sasuke." An odd tremor flits across his smile.

"Shimura-sama. We should be going," Itachi cuts in softly. But his voice is now full of steel.

"Yes, I suppose you should." The smile evaporates. "Goodbye, Itachi."

Clack, goes his cane. Clack.

"It has been a pleasure to meet you."

Clack.

"Aniki," Sasuke whispers beneath the bright afternoon sunlight, suddenly subdued. "Who was that man?" He tugs on his brother's arm.

But Itachi is distant and quiet, and does not answer beyond gently lifting Sasuke onto his back.

A bit shaken herself, Sakura withdraws into her own thoughts, her midday meal now heavy in her stomach. The man had actually been very pleasant to her...and yet, a pleasant man would not have caused such a reaction in Itachi, would he? She cannot bring herself to ask.

"Sakura-san," Itachi says abruptly at a crossroad, "we should part here."

They are nowhere near her house, nor are they near the Uchiha district. Taken aback, Sakura can only stammer out a hasty agreement. Sasuke had fallen into a slumber, his face lax and peaceful. Itachi carefully adjusts him and looks down at her with regret in his eyes.

"My apologies," he murmurs. "There was something I had wanted to...but now does not seem to be the best time."

What had he wanted to do? Something approaching desperation quickly crawls up her throat. "What do you mean?" she whispers. "Is this about training? Can you...perhaps visit tomorrow? I—" she cuts herself off.

"Sakura-san," he says, and suddenly she is pinned with a look so intense it roots her to the ground and pulls the breath right out of her lungs.

"Please, stay away from that man."

That man.

Sakura does not understand. But the urgency beneath his measured tones, the gravity etched into the lines of his face…

She can only nod. "Okay."

He stares at her for a moment longer, then closes his eyes, features softening, and exhales. "Good."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be." He smiles at her this time, a secret, and makes everything alright again in the world. "I am leaving on another mission in the morning. But if you are not busy this evening, perhaps you can stay up for a bit and...study?"

"I will," Sakura promises, and watches him walk away with renewed hope in her chest.

The night is no longer young by the time a soft knock sounds at her door, so quiet that Sakura would not have heard it had she not been sitting only meters away, ears straining for that signal.

"Itachi-senpai," she whispers out into the fragile darkness, "please come in."

Her house is dark, curtains drawn. She leads him into the kitchen, where she had lit several oil lamps earlier, and invites him to sit. He looks much more relaxed now than he had been earlier, and the flames flicker sleepily on the dining table and counters, casting soft light over his profile.

"Sakura-san," he begins—and then pauses. Within an instant, his aura sharpens into a cloud of tiny blades, and Sakura cannot help but shiver at the sudden change. She had always known Itachi to be a highly skilled fighter, but he had never been anything but kind and warm in her presence. Today, for the first time, she comes to feel the power and danger which had always coursed beneath his skin.

"Sakura-san, there is another chakra signature inside your house. Upstairs."

Sakura blinks at him, momentarily frozen by the news, until the pieces of the puzzle finally click into place in her mind. "That must be Kumo-chan, my cat."

Itachi frowns. "A cat wouldn't have an activated chakra signature…"

"Yes, I think it's a nin cat."

His frown deepens. "Nin animals are rare. How did you come across one?"

"Well actually, he just showed up on my porch one day." Sakura fights the urge to fiddle with her fingers beneath his gaze. "I've searched all around the neighborhood to find his owner, even other parts of the city, but," she shrugs, "no success. My friend thinks he must be a stray. Bred by a clan and released when it failed its training, perhaps."

"Hm." Itachi narrows his eyes, but his aura softens somewhat. "That still seems unlikely. Most clans would not deliberately release their nin animals, I believe. But perhaps. Would you mind if I take a look before I leave?"

"Of course." Sakura gives him a grateful look. "Thank you."

"It is nothing," he answers with an elegant dip of his head.

Allowing his aura to fully relax, he pulls out a scroll and unfurls it on the tabletop. "Sakura-san, this is what I had wanted to show you." He taps on a corner of the elaborate design painted across the paper. "It is the seal I can place on your body to limit your chakra-sensitivity, if you so choose."

The seal is an intricate landscape of stylized characters and symbols, angles and curves. It is also really, really big: it would cover at least her entire back. Sakura stares at it with a twinge of apprehension.

"Don't worry."

Looking up, Sakura is met with the sight of Itachi's amused sable eyes and the gentle curve of his smirk. Producing a small, square piece of paper from his weapon's pouch, the boy unfolds the sheet and shows Sakura the palm-sized diagram drawn within: five characters arranged in a pentagon, with a curved line connecting each character with its neighbors to form a ring.

"This design is approximately the one that would actually appear on your skin." He hands the sketch to Sakura. "What do you know about sealing?"

"Not much," Sakura says ruefully. "I once checked out a scroll from the library about seals, but I couldn't understand any of it. But I know they are used to seal objects inside other objects."

Itachi nods as if he had expected such an answer. "Seals can do that, yes, but that is only a tiny fraction of the discipline." He sighs. "It is a shame that the Academy does not cover fuuinjutsu. It's potential is so great. But, to be fair, it is such an abstruse field that the cost of teaching what little we know of it would far outweigh its benefits…"

Sakura looks at the giant scroll with knitted eyebrows. "Then how did you learn fuuinjutsu, Itachi-senpai? Did you research it yourself?"

"The basic theory and history, yes," Itachi responds. "But the advanced mechanisms and logic behind it? No. You see, Sakura, fuuinjutsu is essentially a language. A highly complex and inaccessible language that remains mostly impenetrable by humans. One needs to possess a certain intuition—an instinct, if you will—to be able to manipulate and create seals with any level of efficacy. To be honest, I don't have much talent in it. I actually consulted a trusted colleague to help me build that seal."

"But aren't languages created by beings?" Sakura furrows her brows as she thinks, her inner nerd quickly surfacing. "How can fuuinjutsu be a language if no one knows how to use it?"

"Good question. I use "language" because it is the closest term we have to describe it. Fuuinjutsu is unique as a language. It was never "created"; it has always simply...been. The texts describe it as a language "woven into the very fabric of our universe." From my experience, it is helpful to think of it in contrast to disciplines like taijutsu. Taijutsu was developed by humans; new katas are continually being invented. New seals, on the other hand, feel less like invention and more like discovery."

Sakura slowly mulls this idea through her mind. It seems like an almost overwhelming concept. "But...if it is a language independent from human creation...then its breadth and depth could be greater than anything we can imagine!" Her eyes widen at the possibility. "How do we use it? I know languages are normally created for communication, so does that mean seals are also a type of communication?" The questions fly from her mouth like scattering marbles, and she has to forcibly clamp her jaws shut. Itachi chuckles lightly as she blushes at her display of overeagerness.

"Simply put, fuuinjutsu is a language understood by chakra. According to theory, the potential feats that chakra can accomplish are phenomenal. But chakra alone can achieve only a tiny fraction of that promise; you can't make a bunshin without some knowledge of ninjutsu, for example, no matter how adept you are with pure chakra manipulation. So fuuinjutsu, theoretically at least, allows us to tap into the full potential of our chakra by acting as a conduit for our chakra to perform the extraordinary tasks it could not do simply at the wave of a hand."

"That's amazing," Sakura whispers, awed. "Incredible."

"It is," Itachi agrees.

"So then what are the limits of chakra? Are you saying that we can make basically anything we want happen if we can just discover the correct seal for it?"

"Not anything," Itachi says. "But a lot of it, depending on how creative your imagination is." He chuckles again. "Think about it this way. Our experiences can be divided into two categories: real and imaginary. While our imaginations are capped only by the extent of our creativity, real experiences must conform to rules written into our universe."

"Yes." Sakura nods. "So I can imagine water boiling at zero degrees, but in reality, water must reach around one hundred degrees before it will boil at standard atmospheric pressure."

"Perfect example," Itachi responds. "Now, because all jutsus are rooted in reality, every type of jutsu is thus bound by these universal laws. Take taijutsu and shurikenjutsu. The speed, force, direction, and countless other factors about each punch or weapon you throw are all governed by these rules. Genjutsu is slightly different in that it is essentially the manifestation of imagination—so long as you have the skills needed to cast one, you can make anything that your mind desires actually happen within an illusion—but only within the illusion. There are actually several rules that the genjutsu itself must always obey because the jutsus themselves are still grounded in reality." He suddenly pauses. "Has...Shisui had a chance to teach you that theory yet?"

The question in his gaze is disquietingly heavy, and Sakura swallows in both trepidation and relief at him finally addressing the elephant in the room.

"No," responds reluctantly, wishing she didn't have to. "I actually haven't seen him in months—since before you and I last met. I had been hoping to ask you if he's alright…?"

Itachi simply gives a little shake of his head, lips slightly pursed. Sakura swallows again as she watches his eyes grow a little more resigned.

"Ah, well," he murmurs, "I will leave that lesson to him."

We will hope. Sakura dips her head wordlessly, biting her lip as she tried to think of something, anything, that could help ease the atmosphere even a little. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

Padding over to the sink, she fills a kettle with water and sets it onto the stovetop to boil.

"And fuuinjutsu is the same?" she asks, quietly, after a beat. "It is also bound by these universal laws?"

Itachi nods. "Fuuinjutsu is no different; it also adheres to these laws. But remember, Sakura, that there is still so much about our universe that we either do not know of or do not understand. The potential of fuuinjutsu, even under these constraints of reality, is still impossibly large. In fact, the study of fuuinjutsu may actually help us discover more about our universal laws. It is an amazing field." He shakes his head. "It is a shame that we do not currently possess the time or conditions needed to allow for this type of research."

The kettle lets out a high-pitched whistle, and Sakura quickly pours the boiling water into a pitcher. Spooning a few grams of loose leaf tea into a clay teapot, she grabs two teacups and puts everything onto a wooden tray to bring back to the dining table. Slowly, she pours the hot water into the teapot.

"I think I am beginning to understand," Sakura says. She offers Itachi a cup, nodding in response to his quiet thanks. "But if the potential of fuuinjutsu is so high, why don't we prioritize it? Why don't shinobi spend more time studying it?"

"We used to." He takes a small sip of his drink, closing his eyes against the lazy steam curling along his face, and sighs softly.

"We? You mean—Konoha?"

"No." He sighs again, for a completely different reason. "Uzushiogakure. It was a great shinobi village located in the Land of Whirlpools that specialized in fuuinjutsu, and elite scholars from across the Five Nations migrated there to research and innovate. From what I know, it seems like they were actually beginning to make some noteworthy progress into the field. But it eventually attracted too many intelligent minds, and the knowledge generated there became too powerful. Other countries began to view it as a threat and completely annihilated the village in an attempt to eliminate the perceived danger. The few who survived have scattered."

"But didn't you say they were experts in fuuinjutsu? Why didn't they fight back? Were they not strong enough to keep their village from being destroyed?"

"Fuuinjutsu is primarily a field for scholars, not fighters. The capabilities of a seal is extraordinarily high, but often it is also tailored for a specific need. Sealing a demon, for instance, or erecting a barrier. In other words, the potential of fuuinjutsu lies in the possibility of creating an incredibly intricate seal to accomplish a highly specialized task, such as our current goal of restricting your chakra sensitivity. One seal can take months or years to design, hours to draw out; it is not well-suited for driving back a rapidly-approaching legion of veteran jounin. Most of the residents of Uzushiogakure were highly-educated theorists, but were not fighters, and the subset of people who could fight at an elite level was too small to defend the village from a surprise attack."

"So they simply destroyed generations of knowledge because they were afraid it could hurt them." Perhaps it is the scholar in her, but hearing of this story, even years after it had already passed, still feels like a tragedy. Sakura swallows down that feeling with the last dregs of her tea, slightly bitter and lukewarm. "We haven't recovered any of this information?" A chilling thought suddenly occurs to her. "Is Konoha not worried that others might be developing it again in secret? Why aren't we trying to relearn?" Belatedly remembering her manners, she refills their teacups and moves to boil more water.

"It's possible." Itachi dips his head. "But, simply put, we have not been able to. There are not enough people with an instinct for the language around to form a research team." He sets his empty teacup back onto the table. "For that same reason, however, the threat from other countries is negligible, at least currently. Now that Uzushiogakure has fallen...if ever there existed those who deserve the title of "seal master," they do not exist any longer."

"I see," Sakura murmurs, as she casts her gaze back to the large scroll before her. The seal seems to dance beneath the light of the oil lamps, somehow more complex, more mysterious, more sacred than before.

"Thank you, Itachi-senpai." For discovering, rediscovering this seal for her. For helping her, against the odds. For making it happen. Sakura isn't even sure herself of the full extent of things she is thanking him for.

"You are welcome," he says, as if he understands.

Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, Sakura begins steeping a new round of tea to give herself a chance to regather her wits and subtly blink away the unexpected moisture behind her eyelids.

Like a gentleman, Itachi makes no mention of it, merely folds his hands neatly in his lap and examines the shadows dancing across her walls as he waits.

"So...this seal," Sakura finally manages. "Where will you place it?"

"Anywhere should be fine, theoretically, but from my understanding, it will be most secure if it is placed on one of your meridians."

"Meridian?" The word is new to her.

"You can think of meridians as "chakra highways" within your body. Humans have twelve standard meridians, located in our limbs, as well as a key central meridian that runs from the top of our heads to the bottom of our abdomens." Motioning with his hand, Itachi draws a straight line down the center of his face, forehead to chin, then down the middle of his chest to his gut. "A seal on any location along this line, front or back—," he gestures along his spine, "will be the most balanced."

"I see," Sakura hums. "So balance means security?"

"Balance means stability. Which, in this case, also creates a more secure seal."

She nods at the logic. "Then do you achieve balance by placing a seal on a line of symmetry?"

He is looking at her with a keen eye, and Sakura can almost believe there is a whisper of approval in his expression. "Good observation," he says. "Lines of symmetry are very important in creating balance. But the need for balance in the location of the seal is not universal—it is simply important in your case because the function of your seal is so heavily tied to your chakra core. What is universally important is the balance within the seal itself."

Leaning forward, Itachi carefully moves the teaware aside and pulls the scroll closer to the edge of the table. "Do you see the symmetry in this seal?"

At first, the design is merely a swirling labyrinth of arbitrarily-placed symbols.

And then, it isn't.

"Yin-Yang?!" Sakura gasps.

Itachi's eyes sharpen at her exclamation and his brow furrows. "You see it?"

Confused, she nods. "Yes. Here are the borders, right?" She lightly traces a curved line through the tangle of ink. No space demarcates the boundaries, but there is a subtle shift in the calligraphy from smooth arcs into a more geometric script. "Was that not what you were referring to?"

"That is one of the subtler instances of symmetry here: yin for spiritual energy, yang for physical, which together form chakra. There is also symmetry in the five elements," he points at five slightly larger symbols arranged in a pentagon around the scroll, "and the generally circular design of the seal, which you have probably already noticed."

Yes, the characters in the seal do swirl outwards in a spiral shape, but that is not what catches Sakura's attention.

"What are those?" she asks, motioning to twelve characters arranged at the edge of the seal like the numbers on a clock. "That one's...rat…"

"Rat," says Itachi, pointing at the symbol in the 12 o'clock position. "Ox. Tiger. Hare. Dragon. Serpent. Horse. Ram. Monkey. Bird. Dog. Boar."

"The twelve hand seals?"

"Ninjutsu is a subset of fuuinjutsu, after all." He says it like it is no big deal, just a bland observation of an obvious fact, but Sakura catches his slight smirk as she sputters at the information.

"Since when?" she asks, shooting him a glare.

"The twelve hand seals correspond with our twelve standard meridians. Ninjutsu is merely a special class of fuuinjutsu that relies solely on the five elements, which our chakra is attracted to, and those twelve meridians to function. In short, the relationship between this class of jutsu and the nature of our chakra made it possible for us to devise a way to perform these jutsus through sequences of modified hand seals, saving us time that would otherwise need to be spent on drawing the seals out fully."

"And eliminating the need to have ink and brush on hand," Sakura realizes. Her mind spins at a mile a minute. "For situations where speed is of paramount importance…" Her breath hitches. "Itachi-senpai?"

He nods. "Ninjutsu is fuuinjutsu adapted for combat."

Her head is beginning to hurt. Not because of too much new information, but rather because of the complete repositioning of old knowledge.

"The Academy feels like a lie now."

Itachi huffs a sigh that is definitely amused. "Well, not technically. Maybe oversimplified, but most students don't require this knowledge to become good shinobi."

And others may not even get the opportunity to regret not learning it, one day.

Sakura is lucky.

"So is this seal...complete?" She turns her attention back to examining the scroll in minute detail.

Itachi's back seems to straighten. "What do you mean?" he asks in a perfectly neutral tone.

"I...nothing." She hesitates. "It's just—it feels like something's...missing…?" The question comes out as little more than a mumble. "Nevermind." It doesn't make sense. Itachi is beginning to look at her strangely. "I couldn't even tell you where."

Scratching her head sheepishly, Sakura quickly apologizes. Hopefully, she hasn't offended him with her comment. "Please disregard that, Itachi-senpai."

But he only stares at her harder. "There is," he says.

"I—I'm sorry?"

He gracefully extends an arm and taps several patches of squiggles on the scroll with his index finger. "Placeholder symbols." He withdraws his hand and leans back, but continues to pin her with an intense, thoughtful look.

"Oh," says Sakura.

Then, Itachi abruptly rises to his feet and moves to the sink, finally breaking eye contact. "Come here, Sakura-san."

She stumbles slightly as she joins him, apprehension flowering in her gut, but he gently catches her by the shoulder and holds out a small piece of blank, square paper.

"Itachi-senpai?" she asks, accepting the sheet.

"We need to know your chakra affinity in order to complete the seal," he murmurs. "That is one of the reasons why I could not place the seal on you today." Reaching a hand into his weapons holster, he withdraws another blank paper. "Watch."

The paper bursts into flame.

Jumping back, Sakura lets out a small gasp as the sheet quickly turns to fine, dusty ash that drifts into the sink.

"This is chakra paper," Itachi explains. "When exposed to chakra, it will react in one of five ways, depending on the strongest nature affinity of the chakra. As you can probably deduce, my first element is fire." He lightly rubs his fingers together to dust off the rest of the powder clinging to his skin. "The paper is very sensitive, so any amount of chakra will do. Try it."

"Okay." Holding the paper over the sink, Sakura carefully lets a trickle of chakra pool into her fingertips and leak onto the page.

Nothing happens.

Feeling a little knot of apprehension begin to grow in her chest, Sakura injects more and more chakra into the paper, to the point where it begins to take on a blue-ish tinge, but still: nothing.

Itachi frowns.

"May I?" he asks. Sakura hands over the paper.

Fire instantly swallows the page.

"Hm." His frown deepens. Procuring another sheet of chakra paper, he offers it to Sakura. "Try it again."

Nothing.

"It appears your chakra affinity is equally balanced between multiple elements." Taking the sheet back and tucking it away, he returns to the table and begins to roll up the scroll.

"Itachi-senpai?" Sakura quells the urge to wring her hands, feeling oddly as if she had just failed a test.

"No need to worry," he says. His eyes are warm. Reassuring. "This just means that you have an assignment to complete while I am gone."

Tucking the scroll away, he holds out the smaller diagram for Sakura to keep. "My mission should take about a week; if you can run this errand in the meantime, we can perform the sealing once I get back."

"Of course," Sakura agrees immediately as she accepts the drawing. Squaring her shoulders, she pushes back any lingering apprehension at the thought of getting sealed in the near future and focuses her mind on the present. "Just tell me what needs to be done and I'll do it."

"I need you to purchase a special kind of chakra paper so that we can figure out what your affinity is. The chakra paper you just tried functions via a magnet-like mechanism: all five elemental natures are imbued within the paper, and when you inject a bit of your chakra, it will be attracted to and react with the element it has the highest affinity with. Since that failed, you will need to test your chakra using paper that only tests one element at a time. In other words, you will need to purchase five different sheets."

"Alright. Where should I go to find this paper?"

"Have you been to the eastern district before?"

Sakura nods. "A few times. There is a tea shop there that my mother used to like."

"The one next to the takoyaki shop?"

"Yes! You know of it?"

"The weapons store I have in mind is four streets past the teashop if you pass by the takoyaki stand first. The sign out front is old and merely says "weaponry," but it is the favorite of most jounin."

"Got it. So I'll ask for five sheets of chakra paper separated into individual elements?"

"Just ask for a set of the special chakra paper and the owner will know."

"Alright." Sakura nods again. "Thank you."

"And remember, Sakura-san," he suddenly pins her with another intense look, "you must keep this seal to yourself."

"I will."

"Good." He relaxes his gaze. "Hopefully you will only trigger two of the papers. If you trigger three, then figuring out what your dominant elements are will become a harder task." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small pouch and presses it into Sakura's palm. The bag is heavy with ryō.

"Oh, no, Itachi-senpai, it's really fine, I should pay for this myself—" Sakura rambles as she tries to hand it back, but Itachi will have none of it.

"Keep it," he says firmly. "The Uchiha is a wealthy clan. And I'm the one asking you to buy the paper." He steps away from her in a physical dismissal of the topic. "I must leave soon for my mission."

Taking the hint, Sakura solemnly pockets the money and bows. "Thank you, Itachi-senpai."

He treats her to another one of his warm smiles. "One last thing…"

Sakura follows his gaze to the doorway and watches as her cat silently slinks into the kitchen, fluffy tail lazily swishing through the air as he stalks straight up to Itachi and raises his face to stare unblinkingly at the stranger.

Itachi stares back. There is a strange expression on his face, intent but unreadable. Slowly, he crouches down before the creature.

"Kumo-chan," Sakura begins—and then Kumo sits back on his haunches and meows: one of his long, special meows that taper upwards at the end and melts into a soft purr.

And Itachi's expression transforms, turning into something bright and soft and somehow relieved. Reaching out a hand, he gently scratches the animal behind the ears and under the chin, leaving Sakura to blink at the scene in utter bemusement. Who knew Itachi loved cats?

"Kumo, you named him?" Itachi asks as he finally straightens. The cat follows them as they head toward the front door.

"Ah, yes," says Sakura. "Kumo-chan. Kumo."

"Well I apologize for doubting you earlier. He is a fine cat." His eyes are dark with secret amusement.

"...Thank you." It's all Sakura can think of to say. She woodenly opens the door, watches as Kumo rubs against Itachi's pants affectionately, and tries not to feel too miffed at the fact that her cat seems to like Itachi more than her. Or the fact that Itachi chuckles when he catches sight of her face.

"Stay safe," she says instead.

"Aa. I will see you soon." He inclines his head and vanishes into the darkness.

A beat passes. Then, Kumo curls himself around Sakura's ankle and begins to purr.

Sakura heaves an exasperated sigh and lifts him into her arms, her mind still swirling with everything she now knows. "You traitor."

"Meow," replies the cat as he happily nuzzles her chin.

Note to reviewers: I have stopped responding to comments here to avoid the possibility of tagging someone who doesn't want to be named here. (Also, I can't tell which questions were written rhetorically.) Please know that I still read each review carefully and value them all immensely!

Lastly, thank you for the rating advice. Based on your responses, I think I will change my rating to "M" after several more chapters in order to give myself more writing space. The "M" rating will mostly likely rarely be in effect; I am doing this just to be safe.