Hi everyone! Sorry for the hiatus; I've been sitting on my latest chapter for a while because 1) it's pretty heavy on theory, which takes me longer to write, and 2) life's been busy and as a result, I haven't yet been able to amass enough time to finish the ending without distraction.

The solution I've settled on is to split up the chapter into three sections, two of which are currently finished. Below is the first (and shortest) section. The next should be over twice as long, and will hopefully be uploaded next weekend or the weekend following.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, thank you for continuing to support this story!

Chapter 15 - Section I

Eventually, inevitably, Shikamaru finds out.

Sakura can hardly be blamed. One second she is shaping onigiris for their lunch, the next second—flesh is melting off her hands. Shrieking uncontrollably, she tries to sweep the sushi vinegar off her skin as if the mild acid were responsible for the damage, flinging rice all over the kitchen in the process. Shikamaru's alarmed shout barges into the room and mingles with the high, continuous scream ringing through her mind but Sakura isn't listening, isn't thinking because skin and fat and muscle is literally corroding away before her very eyes and the pain—the excruciating, mind-numbing pain—is a red-hot iron searing through every nerve-ending in her arms—and the screaming is only getting louder and she finally realizes that the bone-chilling sound is not just in her head, but coming out of her mouth, too—

—and then she is looking into sun-and-sky eyes and the kitchen tiles are cool against her cheek and the pain is gone, save for phantom columns of fire curling up her arms and sinking into her neck. And sweat runs in rivulets down her back, her shirt soaked and plastered to her skin, her breath coming out in harsh, hysterical pants as saliva trickles down her chin. And her shoulder is being shaken frantically, a normally-lazy voice now loud and panicked against her ear, "Sakura? Sakura!"

And it is too much, she cannot—

She faints.

Hours later, she wakes on the couch with a mild headache and both hands intact. She should probably be more traumatised, she thinks, but everything feels numb and unimportant—the shock will probably hit later. Shikamaru is sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring at her with an angry look in his eyes, serious as he almost never is. He has clearly banished Kumo, for the poor cat is lounging atop a shelf on the other side of the room, one golden iris peeking out at her as he diligently grooms his front paw with his tongue. Sakura blinks, then rolls over and wills herself to pass out again.

"Oh no you don't," Shikamaru snaps, pulling her back to face him. "What the hell was that?!"

That was a hallucination, plain and simple; there really is no other word for it at this point. He has obviously figured that out as well. What he really wants to know is why, but Sakura has been trying so hard not to think about it, not to panic about it—lying is easier.

"Prolonged insomnia," she says flatly. "It's only happened several times."

"Bullshit," he declares. "You've been having nightmares for months. Ever since you got that thing," he jabs his arm in the direction of the shelf, voice rising to a near-shout, "you've been a mess!"

She's never seen him so angry. Mind suddenly incapable of forming words, she blinks at him and fights the sudden moisture gathering in her tear ducts, shock frosting her senses while an unexpected warmth blooms against her ribcage at the display of concern.

"I'm sorry," she says. Then: "It's not Kumo's fault."

He sighs, sounding much older than his nine years of age. "I just want you to go back to the way you were before," he says, a note of helplessness in his voice. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his spiky ponytail, then continues, softly, "I can't believe it's happened multiple times already and you never told me."

"I'm sorry," Sakura says again, laying a hand on his shoulder, willing with all her heart that he would understand. "I didn't want you to worry."

"A bit too late for that." He shoots her a wan smile, but relaxes beneath her palm nevertheless. "Maybe my dad would know how to fix it. I can tell him tonight—"

"No," Sakura hastily cuts in. "Please don't tell them."

"Why not? They'll probably know how to help. This is serious, Sakura." He frowns at her, and she bites her lip. There really isn't any big reason to keep her condition a secret from his parents, but Sakura still feels an inexplicable reluctance to bring them into the situation. At the end of the day, it is her problem. Her responsibility to solve.

"One month. If I don't get better, then we go to your parents." She would ask Itachi first, Sakura decides. It would be a compromise, and if anyone could fix this, he probably could. She only prays that he will return by then.

"Two weeks," Shikamaru fires back, crossing his arms.

"One month," Sakura repeats.

"Three weeks at most."

"One month."

He glares. "Fine."

Kumo disappears several days later. Shikamaru looks completely innocent on paper, of course, but she knows it was him. That makes her angrier and she corners him at the first opportunity, grabbing his wrist in a tight grip to keep him in place. He may be the more skillful fighter, but months of training has made her strong, and he doesn't even attempt to escape.

But he's as slippery as always with his words. Half an hour of grilling later, the most she gets out of him is, "It's a stray, it was bound to run off sooner or later. No way I'm going to traipse through the village with you looking for it."

"Kumo is my cat, and I know he would never run off," Sakura snaps, nearly stamping her feet. Her breath shortens against her will and she closes her eyes against the frustration. "Just. I need to know he's alright."

"It's a nin cat," he responds, tone softening slightly. "I'm sure it's going to be fine." It's his subtle promise to her, and Sakura reluctantly accepts that it's as far as he'll go, for now.

In exchange for Kumo, Sakura receives a new guardian: Shikamaru himself. The boy shows up at her doorstep one evening, a sleeping bag in one arm and a basket of oranges in the other, and unceremoniously sets up camp in her living room.

"The oranges are from Kaa-san," he informs her matter-of-factly. "I told her we're doing a month-long sleepover." And what else could Sakura do but peel one for them to share?

On the one hand, she's extremely touched by the lengths to which he's willing to go to help her out. On the other...it's really inconvenient. Not only does he follow her around the house as her bodyguard against sharp corners—"you nearly smacked your head against the kitchen counter!"—and watch her with hawk-like eyes during Academy lessons, but he also tags along with her to the market and the library and even the training grounds.

It's exhausting, and leaves her with no time to look for Kumo—which, knowing him, is probably part of his plan. She just thanks the gods that Naruto hadn't seen her psychotic episode. There's no way she would have been able to handle both boys tailing her night and day. Luckily, Shikamaru has shown no inclination of looping him in so far, and has in fact been actively scheming to keep Naruto away from them outside of Academy hours without her even having to ask. Additionally, Shikamaru has so far granted her the small mercy of not asking what her hallucination had been about, a favor she is extremely grateful for. She cannot imagine Naruto capable of exercising the same restraint any more than she can imagine herself capable of actually forcing the answering words past her lips. And how could she even begin to explain away her alarming lack of trauma?

Sputtering as that slip in concentration sends her tumbling into the water, Sakura swims back to the surface of the lake, then carefully climbs to her feet atop the ripples. The training ground is quiet save for the splashing of the waves she had created upon the shore and her own heavy breathing as she shakes off droplets of freezing lakewater while trying to regain her bearings.

As she had suspected, the chakra-density secret that Kakashi had taught her could also be used to conserve chakra while water-walking: lowering its density increased her natural buoyancy. Just as expected is how much harder this method is to master.

Wringing out her hair while trying not to lose her balance again, Sakura debates getting a change of clothes. While the temperature rarely drops low enough for it to snow in Konoha, winter can still be cold and dreary. Her teeth are already beginning to chatter, goosebumps blooming beneath her soaked clothing even with the sun at its highest point in the sky.

But returning to her belongings would also mean answering to Shikamaru. Training has become the one spot of privacy in her day since her friend, while determined enough to shadow her all the way to the training grounds, is (thankfully) too lazy to muster up the energy to actually join her in her lengthy sessions, preferring instead to nap beneath the trees by the entrance. If he sees her in this state, though...he'd surely drag her home.

Her best friend is such a mother hen. Sighing, Sakura increases the chakra circulation within her body, allowing the immediate warmth to loosen her stiff muscles. The additional strain on her concentration would cut her training short, but that should still leave her with several hours to practice if she used her chakra judiciously.

Not even an hour later, however, her limbs have turned to lead and she has no choice but to drag herself back to shore before she takes another involuntary dip into the lake. Her clothes have successfully dried, at least, but Sakura feels strangely sluggish as she goes through her final stretches. Her reserves are low but not depleted, her mind foggy but not aching, and she can't for the life of her understand why her body is so tired. If this is how Shikamaru feels every day, she can almost sympathize with his reluctance for anything involving physical labor.

A soft sound in the bushes has her rising from a stretch to peer curiously into the shadows. Animals do not commonly like to make their homes in the well-trod areas of the training grounds, and those that do are normally very quiet. One calm blue eye peeks back out at her.

"Kumo?" Sakura asks, incredulously, because that's her cat's eye, she'd recognize it anywhere, but no way did Shikamaru just let Kumo go—so how did he escape? Shikamaru never makes mistakes.

The cat pads up to her and purrs, rubbing his head against her leg. His fur is as clean and silky as always, his body no thinner than it used to be even though he has been missing for several weeks now, and Sakura is struck with sudden doubt. While her nightmares and occasional hallucinations have not lessened in frequency, they also have not gotten worse in the past few weeks that he'd been gone.

As she stares into his wide, mismatched eyes, however, Sakura's unease rapidly dissolves. Kumo has done nothing to deserve her distrust, she thinks, mind already heavy with sleep.

"What have you been up to?" Sakura murmurs as she pets him behind the ears. "You couldn't have been living here the whole time…" She moves to pick him up and carry him back home, but the cat wriggles out of her arms with a soft meow and starts walking into the trees, tail swishing behind him.

"Kumo?" she asks again. The shadows are long in the evening light, but the air is pleasantly warm. Kumo blinks his sun-and-sky eyes at her and tilts his head as if to tell her to hurry up, flicking his ear when she takes a small step forward. His fur seems to almost glow beneath the silvery moon and she allows him to lead her through the foliage, his confident footsteps soft over roots and stones and moss. Girl and cat glide onward into the gloom.

And then Sakura falters and nearly stumbles, eyes widening minutely as she finally registers the faint tremor in the air around her, so strange, so familiar. She's felt this before, once, while sitting in a field of summer grass, two shuriken nestled heavily in her palms. And as soon as she becomes conscious of the feeling, she realizes that her senses have all been blaring at her for quite some time now without her notice. Danger, alarm, run. The world seems to vibrate as it holds its breath, waiting for her to discover, and her mind finally discloses to her what her instincts have long since known.

Genjutsu.

As I mentioned above, the next section will hopefully be posted next weekend or the weekend after. Thank you!