When the Soul Speaks

by lilac haze

Disclaimer: AU. Non-canon. This story contains abuse, child neglect, child abuse, violence, torture, and assault. Gets lemony towards the end. Please see inside for more details. Summary: She just wanted to keep her head down and do her job. He was just lonely and desperate for attention and affection. He was just frozen in place after his loss. Baby Naruto. MinaSaku. Love triangle

33. Chapter 33: Revelation in the Light

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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A/N:

Dearest Readers,

Hello! A new day and a new chapter. Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate them very much. This story was worming away in my head for months and I'm really glad that I am able to share it with you all. I am so humbled and happy that from what I have read, you seem to care about the story and the characters as much (if not a little bit more) than I do. That's awesome! That's honestly the best praise. I will do my best to not let you down. Let's get into it!

~L.H.

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Chapter 33: Revelation in the Light

No sooner had he entered the room, the room where Tomoha said Sakura's aunt was waiting for him, did a stinging sensation register on the side of his face. His eyes watered. His ears echoed with the sound of her open-faced palm striking his flesh. His teeth still felt like they were rattling in his mouth. So much so that he ran his tongue along each one to check if any had come loose. That was how much force was behind the slap. His whole head had turned to the right.

He raised his eyes to hers, which were so enraged they reminded him of her. Not in color but in shape and in ferocity. When she had dressed him down for nearly costing her her job. He had placated her by promising he would never put her in that situation again. He had lied. It was the foundation on which he built their relationship.

Her nostrils flared in a purely enraged fashion.

"Just what do you have to say for yourself?!" She barely gave his mind time to recover from the shock - the stunned state - before beginning her tirade. "What kind of house are you running here?!" Her hand fisted into the fabric of his shirt. She pulled him down until his face was level with hers. "It would have been better to slit my niece's throat with my own two hands than to condemn her to this place!" Her saliva showered his face. "First, she gets bitten by a snake protecting your kid because your guards can't be bothered to do their jobs! Then you starve her! She nearly dies, again. And then she gets beaten with a bloody cane and garden tools?!"

He felt himself being shaken violently. Nausea rose in him. He did not have time to let her words sink in or even understand them before the next wave of verbal lashing started.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Her voice broke with emotion as she asked him the same question again. "Huh? How could you let this happen?" She did not wait for him to answer. It was for the best. He did not have one.

"Your weakness is the reason for all this. You.." she shoved him roughly away from her as if the mere fact they were connected was abhorrent. "You ran away from everything! Your responsibilities. You suck your head in the sand while the personification of the devil himself took over your home! You are a coward." She screamed. "Not a hero. You are a fucking coward!"

He stared at the ground. Jiraiya had not moved from his spot behind Tsunade. Just as Kakashi had not moved from behind Minato. Guilt permeated off of every person in the room until it was nearly an insurmountable force. Tomoha, Jiraiya, Tsunade and Minato. Both of Kakashi's feet were still firmly on the other side of the open door.

"Answer me, Namikaze." She had angry tears in her eyes. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Her voice was reduced to nothing more than a bitter squawking sound. Not quite human.

There were no words.

---

The angle of the refraction of the glistening light was so perfect that it became a mirror. A mirror that blinded him in the dead of the night with the glow and intensity of a burning moon. He rose from the bed. His feet touched the cool wood floorboards. He leaned his elbows into his thighs. His head rested in a nest of his fingertips. The left side of his face still ached from her strike. But it was her words that left a lasting impact. His face would heal. He was not so hopeful for the same when it came to his heart or his soul. The light still danced in his peripherals.

With a grunt of pure frustration, he rose. Sure footfall led him to his desk. The wind moved the drawn curtains. His eyes narrowed on the hair clip. The catalyst of it all. The hair clip that he had spotted years ago a month before his wedding. It had caught his eye with its rubies and diamonds. It had reminded him of his wife-to-be. He had pictured it adorning her hair. He had to have it for her. It was made for her. And she had worn it. On the day of the wedding for the first time and on their first wedding anniversary for the last.

The red rubies had reminded him of her hair. Now they reminded him of her blood. Blood that was on his hands. He played games. He put her in this position. Whatever her position may be. He only had his imagination to rely on. And what Danzo had said. The sick bastard had gone into vivid detail to describe her ordeal so much so that if he closed his eyes for more than a second, he heard her screams in his head. He did not know what face he could show her if he ever saw her again.

Like Kushina, she was paying for the price of his desires. Kushina was dead because of him. Because he wanted a family. She knew that even when he was hesitant to admit it to himself. He wanted to be a father. Kushina made him a father. She died in exchange for granting his wish.

He wanted to have a relationship with his son. She helped him forge one even without knowing the intentions of his heart. She gave him tips. She listened. She encouraged not only him but also Naruto to give him a chance. She became the bridge between them, allowing them to connect. Even if she was the one who ended up on fire. Burned.

Minato picked up the hair clip. The rubies and diamonds clicked together as the gold ropes that dangled from the gold flower, brushed up against each other. With a careful hand, he untangled the chins. Patiently and gently. The hair clip was a reminder of his selfishness.

It clattered to the ground. The rubies and diamonds scattered. Landing in no clear direction.

---

It was not hard to place the sound his ears were picking up. He had become rather acquainted with all forms of it since charging back through the doors of the compound. The controlled fury that was contained. The tsunami that wanted to level everything in his path was still raging. The barrier that held it was strong. It still had its structural integrity. His will did not have a single chink in its armor. Despite knowing full well what the sound was and having a solid guess as to the reason behind it, his feet led him down a path that intensified the sound.

She was there with her forehead pressed up against her arms that held her knees close to her. Her thin shoulders, as narrow as a robin's wing, were shaking with the vibrations powering a whirlwind of sorrow. Something rose up in him. Something deep and primal. The need to mend, to fix, and to make better. Paternal.

Minato reached into the inner pocket of his haori, he pulled out a neatly folded cloth. He gripped it lightly before crouching down in front of her. She stiffened for a fraction of a second before her head slowly rose and her eyes took in the situation. They widened.

"Don't be afraid," was the first thing that came to mind. It might have been a mistake since she flinched. "It's alright," he said gently but not without a sense of urgency as he almost saw an apology bubble up her throat.

She sniffled. The shaking resumed but it was less drastic. She eyed the handkerchief warily. She knew who he was. He did not know why or how but she knew. The presence of trepidation in her eyes tipped him off to the fact.

"You're Rin right?" He asked her kindly.

"H-how…?" She bit back the rest of her sentence. Realization hit her squarely.

"She used to talk about you. About how far you've come in reading and writing. She was - is -" he raked a hand through his hair, "is so proud of you."

Rin's face contorted into a look of pure pain as more tears leaked out of her eyes. She took the handkerchief from him and dabbed at her eyes. But not before running her fingers along the silk. There was almost guilt in her movements as if she felt bad for using the fabric as it was intended. She blew her nose quietly. Within a couple of minutes, she had settled down enough to the point that she was no longer actively sobbing. She fiddled with the end of the handkerchief in her hand.

"Oneechan," she hung her head barely managing the word out of her mouth without stuttering. Her expression of forlornness was too much for someone so young. "She didn't steal the clip, Master-sama! Oneechan couldn't have! She shares everything! She would give me the food out of her bowl! She didn't do it." She implored him with her heartbroken plea. "You have to believe us, Master-sama. None of us think she did it."

"Rin-chan," he sighed with the unrest that had settled deep into his soul.

"Even if she did," Rin continued with desperation. "You got it back. It was probably a mistake. You can forgive her. She can come back. You can make her promise not to do something like this again. It was a mistake. There has to be a mistake. We all make mistakes." Her brown eyes searched his face frantically. "You're the Master," she said brokenly. "You can bring her back. Please let her come back. It was just a mistake."

Another blow on his will and his control. This one he felt. The sound of it hitting him lingered. Maybe because it was coming from a child who was still very much innocent and did not know the ways of the world. A child who saw black and white only and did not realize there were countless shades of gray in between the two extremes: right and wrong.

"Gather the children, Rin-chan. Naruto too. Meet me by the gates when you have them all with you." He rose to his feet as an idea came to his mind.

"Why?" The girl looked at him dazed as if she had just spent the past few minutes spinning at full speed and the world had still not come to a stop.

"We're going out for ramen. And anko dango. You like dango right?"

Rin gaped at him. "W-what?"

"Go find the kids, Rin-chan. I'll be waiting. It will be fun. Everything will be alright." He offered her a small reassuring smile. It seemed to do what he intended because not even ten minutes later he found Rin with four boys - including his son - headed towards him and the front gate.

---

The diamond that was tattooed on the center of her forehead pricked feeding off of the hesitation she felt. It was a foreign feeling. Not something she associated with herself. She was headstrong, brash, and determined. She did what she wanted when she wanted to. She did not want to do this. But she felt she had to do this. Because if she did not do it now when everything was crumbling around her. Then she would never do it.

Tsunade tore her eyes away from the carefully etched vajra lining the walls of the compound. The prison she had escaped from. The place where every single one of her moves was watched and her thoughts censored. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up needing every bit of additional height she could find. Posture. That was what made her seem taller than her stature would suggest. That and her heels. Kami bless the person who invented them.

She grabbed the center ring on the navy gate. She pulled it back and struck the metal twice. It sounded impossibly loud to her ears. It even drowned out the sound of her hammering heart. The doors opened. She was not surprised. Her lilac mark would grant her passage even if the guards on duty were not old enough to know that hers should have been rescinded.

It was hard not to feel twenty-one again as she had been twenty-five years ago. She was different. She was not that young girl anymore. So much had changed even if the compound looked aching the same. She moved unbothered and undisturbed through the front courtyard lined on both sides by rows of rooms and extensive verandas. The thought had been the rooms would be full of families but reality came up painfully short.

Two of her uncles were killed in the war before they married, hence no offspring, legitimate ones anyway. Bastards were never claimed. Her father, the eldest, only had two daughters. And if they had married into smaller clans, their husbands would have adopted the Senju name as per custom and moved into the houses. That had been the idea with her engagement. The engagement was the reason why she was forced to endure the mark of nobility. She was supposed to never leave. She was to have children and children until she was at her wit's end and made her parents very happy.

That was the line she was fed ever since she was a little girl. Indoctrinated to the idea that she would marry where her father said and she would have as many children as her hips could bear. But she had rejected the fancy picture painted for her. She married a man with no clan. Unacceptable. An outsider. Unworthy. And it was only after they married she came to realize that he was sterile. Pointless. So she had broken both dreams her parents held for her.

But she did not care. She would do it all over again. Dan. Kato Dan, the man she picked. The man her heart was claimed by did not limit her. He did not dare to limit her. He let her dream. He supported her dreams. He backed her up every which way. Because of him, she was able to open her medical shop. He stood in her shop every day while she saw patients. He dealt with vendors and clerical work so she could focus on her passion: healing and making medicine. It was all possible because of him. That was why it all fell apart without him.

She could not bear the thought of walking through the doors of their clinic, the very clinic they built together, without him. His heart, soul, and devotion were etched into it as much as hers if not more. It was their dream. It was their blood. It was their tears. It only worked with both of them.

She passed by the door that was her room without a second thought. She had no regrets. She was not interested in wondering about what could have been or what was. She was here for now. She was here for today so tomorrow might hurt a little less.

The distinctive sound that she would never forget in this lifetime no matter how long she had gone without had her whole body freezing. Tsunade slowly turned around. She watched as red hair, dulled slightly from age held high in two buns on a head adorned with gold hairpieces walked to her with regal elegance.

Senju Mito commanded everyone's attention with even the smallest of actions. Back in her youth when she was in her prime and even now as a woman in her sixties. The diamond on her forehead had faded to a lighter purple but Tsunade could still make out the shape easily enough. She had not touched it up since her husband's passing, nearly twenty-two years ago.

"With what audacity did you come here today, Tsunade?" Mito's eyes bore into hers without blinking. "Or have you forgotten that you are not welcome back to the place that you turned your back on?"

"I did not come here to fight," she said with a tight jaw and hard eyes.

"Then what have you come for?" Mito raised a red brow. "Do you believe there is still something here for you?" Her tone while smooth and even cut to the bone in its coldness. It left Tsunade a little breathless.

"Have you seen Sakura?" Tsunade pushed back the repressed feelings of anger, resentment, and traces of inadequacy for her objective.

"Who?" Mito blinked at her slowly. Her dark eyes were as cold as her voice. Icy. Everything a mother should not be.

"Your granddaughter." Tsunade felt her lip curl up slightly in the beginning stages of a snarl. She was able to compose herself before it fully developed.

"I have no knowledge of a granddaughter." Mito's painted lips pressed together firmly.

"How noble on your part," she unclenched her teeth. "Upholding your family's honor in the laps of luxury while your own blood is in Kami-knows what state. Your blood saturated the earth in the Namikaze Compound. The very blood you care so much about." She slowly turned to take it all in. "Deplorable. The minds of the narrow that follow what is without discrimination or distinction."

"I have no children. I have no blood," Mito's eyes narrowed in a cooled fury that had years to dull. "The daughters I did have, gave up their birthright the day they left their birthplace."

"Not everyone wants to die where they were born." Tsunade spat. "You may have no children but you had three grandchildren."

She spun on her heel. Sakura was not here. She was wasting her time.

"Had?"

Tsunade closed her eyes. She pulled at her composure, willing her voice to remain strong enough to withstand her mother's. Equal and opposite. "You had a grandson. He passed away ten years ago. He was five. He is buried in Tonkia Village."

She waited for what felt like half her life for her mother to say something, to say anything to the news that she had a grandson and the knowledge that he was gone. She peeled her feet from the ground and pushed forward when only the wind reached her ears. She never learned. She kept setting herself up for disappointment. Her mother never cared. Her mother never listened. Not then. Why would she do so now?

"Why was she beaten?"

Tsunade pressed her lips into a bloodless line. Her hands shook. She did not turn around. "She stole."

A cruel scoff ripped through her mother's throat. "Like mother, like daughter."

Tsunade punched a pillar on her way out. She took out a good chunk of the brick with her.

---

Her hand throbbed. She used the pain to fuel her movements. Her anger was nearly at a feverish pitch. She was seeing red. Her heart was broken in her chest. She nearly pulled the door off its hinges. A head popped up in surprise. He pushed up his glasses as she rested her palms on the counter.

"How can I help you?" Kabuto offered her a smile, it was artificial in nature. Flat. Lifeless. "Is it for your hand?" His dark eyes glazed over her red knuckles and torn skin of her right hand.

"No," she breathed to bring down the grit in her voice slightly. "I'm looking for my niece. She was injured. Bleeding. Lashes on her back. Have you seen someone like that recently?"

Concern colored his face. "No, Kami," he set aside whatever he was working on to bring his fingers to his forehead. "I hope you find her. That sounds serious."

"So you haven't seen her?" She searched his face for signs of a tell.

"No," he swallowed audibly. "But if I find someone who matches that description I will let you know," he hastily tore off a piece of paper from his notebook. "Can I have your contact information in case she turns up?"

Everything inside of her told her not to trust him. "Kato Tsunade," her face was grave. "I'm staying at the Namikaze Compound." She watched with sharp eyes as he scribbled exactly what she said. He waited for the ink to dry before tucking it into his pocket.

"I'll keep an eye out." He tapped his pocket for good measure.

"Thank you," she looked at him expectantly.

"Yakushi Kabuto, Tsunade-sama." He dipped his head in a bow. "It is an honor that the great healer has walked into my humble shop. I hope you find your niece and that she is in good spirits and condition."

Tsunade nodded her head and walked out of the shop. She kept repeating his name over and over in her mind bothered as to why it sounded so vaguely familiar.

---

Naruto scowled. "Shika's Sensei really is boring, Tochan. Shika fell asleep yesterday and his Okaasan hit him on the back of the head to wake him. That was kind of funny." He giggled at the memory of the annoyed look on Shikamaru's face. He hardly reacted.

"Give it some time, Naruto. There is always an adjustment period." Minato reminded him with encouraging patience.

"But he doesn't sing or make games or even listen. He just talks and talks and talks. And we have to sit the whole time! My butt gets tired." He continued to share his grievances with his new Sensei with his Tochan. "Can we try Sasuke's Sensei?"

"Not yet," Minato patted the boy's head. He deflated at Minato's words.

"Can we get ramen? And dango again?" He asked hopefully.

A tinge of guilt fluttered through him. "Not today, Naruto."

"Is today 'no' day?" He pouted.

"Not quite," Minato straightened. "Ready?" He looked over at the boy.

"He won't bite me?" Naruto asked Minato slowly before he eyed the white horse.

"Why would he bite you?" Minato sighed heavily when he realized the answer to his own question. "Your Ojichan was just messing with you. Kaminari won't bite you."

"He's so big!" Naruto held out his arms to demonstrate as if the horse was not right there in the paddock.

"You said you wanted to learn how to ride." Minato reminded him with waning patience.

"I said I wanted a pony!" Naruto corrected testily.

"Horses are better," Minato crossed his arms. "You can ride a horse when you're older and taller. A pony will get too small for you in just a couple of years."

"I guess," Naruto shrugged. He was less than enthusiastic. "What if I fall?"

"I'll be right here," Minato assured him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Promise?" Naruto asked him with bright eyes and hopeful features.

In the trick of the light, his eyes turned green and his hair became pink. His features matured and became more feminine. Her face looked at him with trust.

"You'll be fine," he said tightly. "Come on," he lifted the boy up by his armpits.

"Tochan," Naruto froze in his grip.

"What?" Minato looked at him confused by his sudden change in disposition.

"Run!" Naruto started to squirm in his arms so much that Minato was forced to put him down. No sooner had he done so, he shot off like a firework away from the paddock, even going as far as to crawl under the first fence post.

He did not have to wait long for the reason behind it.

"Namikaze-sama!" A bell-like voice rang out. It had his stomach clenching in dread.

He turned around slowly and found himself face-to-face with Kin.

'I should have run when I had the chance.'

It was not often when Konoha's Yellow Flash was too slow.

---

His heels ached but he relished the feeling it provided him with a much-needed distraction from the near-constant contact against his bicep. Sometimes it was her hair, her hand, her arm, her shoulder, once it was even the side of her head. There was no way any of it could be mistaken for accidental. His limb burned and it was not even remotely pleasant. An acid burn is what he would describe it as. The four-inch scar on the inside of his right calf was a testament that he knew what it felt like. A painful lesson was learned, at the tender age of five, not to play samurai too close to haphazardly discharged chemicals.

He did not raise his head from his plate. He pushed the food around. He lost what remained of his appetite at her arrival. The sheer outward impertinence displayed by Danzo was astonishing. Sakura's blood was still mixed with the earth in the shed - Kushina's garden shed. He knew because he had seen it. He had smelled it. The man was ruthless. He beat her in what was Kushina's happy place. Where she retreated from the world when she wanted some quiet time. Again, he took something that had a positive association in his mind and corrupted it until just the thought of it made Minato's stomach burn. He was humiliating him as Danzo raked him over the coals. Thorough and cunning and pure evil. The devil-incarnate. Tsunade did not say a single lie.

He sat as far back as he could when Kin reached over across his body to get a couple of pieces of a side dish she just as easily could have asked Shizune to hand her. It would have made everyone else - excluding Danzo - much more comfortable had she done that instead of essentially pressing her head against his neck.

"Where is Naruto-kun?" She asked pleasantly as if unbothered or unaware of the varying degrees of somberness painted across everyone's faces.

"He already ate earlier with some of his friends," Shizune answered when it became clear that no one else would. She was simply too polite and kind to let a question go without acknowledgment.

"I see," Kin smiled tightly. "So you're a Senju too?"

"No," Tsunade cleared her throat roughly as she set her teacup down just as rough. "Neither my daughter nor I are Senju."

"You are by blood," Danzo spoke up. "Your daughter is not."

Kin furrowed her brows. She opened her deeply red lips to ask the question burning in her mind.

"I'm adopted," Shizune responded tightly. "Tsunade-sama is my Obasan through marriage. She married my Ojisan."

"Oh," Kin lowered her chopsticks. "So that makes you?"

Minato closed his eyes at the clear lack of tact. Something she did not pick up from her uncle. Or perhaps she, like him, was just emboldened thanks in large part to her uncle's heroics that rid the house of a thief.

"A Kato," Tsunade hissed.

"Never heard of them," Kin's cheeriness seemed to go up with her admission. "Must be even smaller than Shimura and Tsuhi."

"Must be," Shizune sipped her tea calmly but her shoulders were tighter than before.

"The Katos are pretty well known around Konoha. It must be because you're so out there in Ongaku. News always takes forever to travel there which is ironic considering your village literally means music which is only possible because of sound." Kakashi drawled out in a bored manner. "They have a lot of shops. Big merchants. Good money."

"Their bravery is also notable," Jiraiya added with a lazy wave of his hand. "That's how they were able to build up so much wealth in such a short time. Awarded royalties by the Daimyo himself."

"True," Tsunade quipped. "So much so that my daughter and I enjoy the finer things in life." She hid her smirk into her tea at the dark expression that crossed Kin's face. "In fact," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Just last month I turned down three prospective matches for my daughter. They did not compliment all that Shizune has to offer." There was very real pride in her voice.

Shizune's face turned red at the sound of it. She busied herself with chewing daintily at her fish.

"I believe it," Kakashi's lips tugged into a smirk. "Hard to find a woman that is cultured."

Minato turned his head to see Kakashi look as smug as a cat who caught a bird and Shizune as red as a tomato. He did not miss the glare she subtly directed at the Hatake.

"She is well educated," Tsuande carried on, missing the tension completely. "Well rounded."

"Yes, very rounded." Kakashi wiggled his eyebrows discretely causing Shizune to let out a little yelp.

"Are you alright Shizune?" Tsunade asked with a frown.

"Fine," she nearly choked on her water. "Just something went down the wrong pipe."

Minato pinched the side of Kakashi's thigh to keep him tormenting the poor woman further. The Hatake glared at him for spoiling his fun. Amusement danced in Jiraiya's eyes. Tsunade eyed the pair suspiciously.

"Hm," Kin poked at her plate. "Do you sing? Kato-san?"

"For myself I do." Shizune smiled kindly at her.

"I love to sing. I can sing a couple of lines if that's okay," she brought her hand to where the gap between her clavicles was. She cleared her throat and opened her ruby-red lips.

"Kami, kill me." Tsunade pressed her fingers to her temples. "Sorry," her face did not look too convincing. "I get these exposure headaches. And I feel one coming on." She stood up unceremoniously. All heads looked at her. "Enjoy the rest of your meal." She left without another word.

"I just remembered I have a date with a lady." Jiraiya rose to his feet quickly and exited.

Kakashi exchanged a glance with Shizune. "Kato-san, remember the thing you wanted to show me?"

Shizune's eyes lit up. "Oh yes! Now is the best time to show you that thing…I wanted to show you." She dipped her head. "Please excuse me."

And just like that they were gone too.

Minato felt their dark eyes on him. All three of them.

"I believe I do not have to remind you how rude it is to leave a guest unattended during dinner?" Danzo's lone eye narrowed ever-so-slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Of course, Shimura-sama." He looked at the woman who seemed to prefer these new arrangements.

"Good," Danzo too slowly got to his feet. "I am feeling tired, Ambe. Have my plate transferred to my room."

Tomoha bowed deeply and hurried to do what was instructed. Minato's hand curled into a fist against his thigh. Tomoha shot him a warning look.

"Namikaze-sama," Kin leaned her head against his arm blatantly. "I heard so many stories of your bravery. The hero that ended the war." She sighed dreamily. "What does it feel like?"

'Empty.'

"It's good to be back," he drank water in a futile attempt to push the quickly forming lump down his throat. Her hand moved down to his thigh. He brushed it off. That was something he could not ignore.

"Sorry, Namikaze-sama," she flushed red. "I thought that was my leg."

"It happens," he smiled tightly. His eyes were as dead as the fish on his plate.

"I wonder what kind of fashion it is for a woman to keep her hair so short," Kin said in a huff. "So unflattering. She looks almost manish. Especially when her chest is small enough as is."

"Tsuhi-san, Kato-san like you, is a guest in this house. And out of respect for her and you, I ask you not to speak of her in this way. Just as I would ask her not to say such things about you." He stated politely but also firmly.

Kin's face turned red. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His stomach dropped. She was smiling shyly. It was not the reaction he had expected or even hoped for.

"Of course, Namikaze-sama," she said breathily as shuffled closer to him. Her long eyelashes batted at him slowly.

It took everything not to roll his eyes and sigh.

---

"Shameless!" Tsunade said in a low growl. "Just who does he think he is bringing her in here already? Parading her around like he runs the place." She nearly spat on the ground in unbridled anger. "I suppose he does. He can do as he damn well pleases." She jabbed him in the chest with a finger soliciting a grunt from him. "If Kushina was here, she never would have let it get this bad. How could you spend your time drinking and sleeping with anything that moves when your own home is in such disarray?"

"I could ask you a slightly different version of that question, Hime." Jiraiya frowned at her. He was tired of her one-sided accusations and words.

"It's different in my case, I ran away." She hissed.

"It's no different," Jiraiya shot back. "You weren't here. She died. The house was not the same. I wasn't going to subject myself to being alone with my brother. You know how I felt about him."

"Boo-hoo, he bullied you. He demeaned you. He emasculated you. Get over yourself. You let your nephew run instead of dealing with his grief. You left a child alone!" As unforgiving as a wildfire that was how her anger burned. It was blinding and indiscriminate between foliage and dead underbrush. She just wanted to charr everything in her path. It did not matter if it was friend or foe.

"Did you not do the same thing?"

Her hand dropped so quickly to her side that it was as if the appendage was made of marble. Her jaw went slack.

"I'm sorry," he stopped himself from touching her shoulders and holding her steady.

"I saw my mother," she muttered brokenly with a thousand-yard stare. She was no longer standing right there. Her mind was decades in the past.

"That must have been hard," his lips yearned to brush against her forehead and his arms wanted nothing more than to hold her to him. "Tsunade," he said, her need gruffly fueled by neglected need. "If I walk you to your door will you turn me away?"

Her eyelids closed heavily over her amber orbs. Like iron curtains. "My niece is missing." Her voice twisted in anguish. "She's hurt. She's alone. She's probably scared." She started to sway slightly. "How could I even think of something other than that?"

"Don't think," he whispered. "Just let me inside."

"It's been so long, Jiraiya. Not since…" she shook her head.

"I know," he leaned forward as did she. He could feel the heat coming off her body.

"It would be a mistake." Blonde eyelashes parted revealing fear, need, and guilt. Enough guilt to drown all of Konoha.

"Call it a mistake. A moment of weakness. Needing comfort. Just let me inside." His voice was low and full of gravel.

"Do you think he loves her?" Tsunade searched his face desperately.

"If you ask me," he paused to take in her beauty in the soft glow of the moon. "He loves her."

"And if you ask him?" She pressed, needing reassurance that things would turn out alright.

"He would probably tell you no," Jiraiya said with heaviness from his aching chest. "He's the last to know as always."

"Second to last," Tsunade said sadly. "Sakura won't let herself think she's worth anything." She swallowed thickly. "It's been so long."

"I'll take whatever you give me. No questions asked." Jiraiya nearly begged. Because she was the only one who could push him to this point. The only one. "Whatever you can spare."

Tsunade blinked. It was as if a spell was lifted. Her eyes were clear and lacked heaviness. She took a step back. "No." She said firmly. "I'm here for Sakura and Sakura alone." Her arms came to wrap around herself protectively. Her heels clicked as she turned around. Ten clicks before the sound of a door being pushed open and slid across tracks, and then slid the other way.

His tongue moved along the bottom row of his teeth as he stood in his dejection just like all those years before. Time and repetition did little to soften the blow. He was four steps down the hall when in the still of the night - where a flutter of a dragonfly's wings could be heard - the screech of the door being opened filled him with a warmth more intense than any sake he had come across.

---

She was restless. Like her brain, she had not stopped moving. She could not stop moving for fear that her gloomy thoughts would catch up with her and force her into a state somewhere between consciousness. Caught between reality and what her mind had constructed and unable to differentiate the truth. She was catastrophizing. She had enough presence of mind to know she was doing it. Catastrophizing. It had gotten her in trouble in the past. She was still paying the price for a decision she made while in this frantic state. And that was why she held onto her sanity even if it was waning and nothing more than a sliver.

There was nothing to prepare, clean, or do. She had exhausted it all but a frantic energy was still coming off of her. And her thoughts were no closer to relenting. She looked up from the tea in her hands, she was about to set it down on the table in the courtyard. Her husband hobbled on his cane which was too short for him. His blue eyes looked at her with an expression that was not too different than hers.

"Anything?"

"Not yet," Mebuki smiled despite her mood growing darker and darker. "I'm sure there's an explanation for it. The last few times the carrier had said that the shop was experiencing heavier traffic with all the people writing letters of late. I'm sure Sakura's letter will be here any day now." She lied through her teeth.

Kizashi nodded his head. He landed heavily on his stool. The cane rested against his one remaining leg.

"Are you okay with money?"

Mebuki smiled brightly. "Of course!" Another lie. "We've been frugal. We've been saving." Her eyes nearly darted to the roof that was repaired not too long ago. They were running low. And if a letter did not come soon, she did not know how she was going to put food on the table. Food her husband needed for his recovery.

"How is your stomach feeling?" She asked him with all different levels of concern in her eyes.

Kizashi wrinkled his nose. "It burns. Are you sure I'm supposed to take a full pill with each meal?"

Mebuki rolled her green eyes in exasperation. "You were right there when he said it. You heard him. You even made a joke about eating a pill when you have a snack. No one laughed, remember?"

Kizashi grinned. "I did."

"You don't count." She huffed. "Now eat up! Make sure you take your medication. Don't make me count your pills. I will do it!" She rested her hands on her hips.

"Fine, fine," Kizashi held up his hand. He brought the tea to his lips. "What about those Kami-awful rations?"

"Your daughter worked really hard to make those for you so you will eat them. One a day." She glared in clear warning at him.

"It would be easier to eat leather, holy cow am I right?" He chuckled loudly and slapped his knee.

"What did I ever see in you?" Mebuki pressed her fingers to her forehead.

"Her letter will arrive soon," Kizashi smiled at her in a way that made her inside melt like soft, thin wax. In a way that only he could.

"It will," she nodded her head with decisiveness. The thoughts in her mind stilled a little. She sent out a blessing to both her daughter and the Sensei because thanks to them, she was getting more and more of her husband back every day.

---

The backdrop of voices milling about aimlessly in the waning hours of the sun had blended together into a low hum in the back of his mind. He had not planned to leave the compound and come into the village but he desperately needed a break from Kin. All forms of subtlety and shame were out the window with her. So when Tomoha complained she needed some groceries given the sheer number of unexpected, uninvited, and not all entirely unwanted guests - Shizune and Tsunade anyway, Kin was in a category all by herself - he jumped at the chance to help.

Since she left, Danzo had shed all facade of subtlety. Everything he did was out in the open. Murmurs of a thief in the compound had reached the other clans. So much so that even Shikaku asked him about it when he went to pick up Naruto after his tutoring session. Shikaku was a litmus test of sorts for gossip. Because if it reached him, the man who avoided small talk like his life depended on it, it meant everyone knew.

Miraculously - or by design - no one seemed to know the identity of the thief. Juna and Kai's departure could not have come at a better time. There was speculation. Three employees left the compound recently, right around the time the clip went missing and was rediscovered. It was enough for probable cause. It was enough to keep murmurs low. Just enough to keep rumor from turning into accusation. Accusations were dangerous. Accusations had the power to condemn.

It would devastate Naruto if such allegations reached his ears. And if he could help it, he wanted to shield him from anything he could. Not to mention, it would severely limit her ability to be employed by reputable, respectable employers. And then there was the judgment and ostracization that would come from it. She would be a social leper. An untouchable in every right of the word. Her world that she had just ventured into expanding would shrink back to just herself. And that would completely devastate her. He did not think as strong as she was, that she would be able to come back from that.

He did not mean to walk down this pathway, it was the shortest path to take back to the compound and maybe that was why his feet had brought him here. Or maybe he was just here to satiate the small, dark voice gnawing in the back of his head. A voice that sounded suspiciously like her.

His hand around the bag containing the odd ends and bits of ingredients for dinner tightened until he nearly lost circulation. His jaw was set in a rigid line, becoming even more prominent on his angular face. His eyes narrowed slightly as he opened the door. His gaze locked on the man behind the counter casually leaning forward, tapping the end of his brush against his chin as he thought. The sound of his footsteps had him looking up. Minato did not miss the way his shoulders stiffened. Subtle but not nearly subtle enough.

"The hero of the Fire," Kabuto bowed his head down in a jeering salute. "What an auspicious moment. Tell me, Nami-sorry," he grinned revealing white teeth, "who are you here as?"

He moved to the counter. His fingers came to grip the ends of it. "Where is she?"

Kabuto sighed in an animated fashion as if he were pulling out from the depths of his suffering soul. He hung his head. "Could you please be more specific? The whole answering a question with a question," he moved his hands in tandem, one over the other before clasping them and pressing them under his chin. "Is getting really old."

"Sakura," he said her name for the first time since returning home. It felt almost foreign on his tongue. Like she was a construct and not an actual person who he knew. A concept and not flesh and blood.

Kabuto leaned back and crossed his arms. He tapped his chin with his hand. "Hm," he feigned thinking long and hard. Minato's jaw clenched a little tighter. "Strange," he mused. "Earlier Rin-chan - she works for you in case the name doesn't sound familiar - came in and spoke with Anko-chan - my assistant - and asked the same question. Anko-chan said no. Then Tsunade-sama came in looking for her niece who from her description I am concerned for. Sounded like she was badly hurt," he pushed up his glasses. "And here you come asking for Sakura. The same as Rin. And my answer is the same: no."

The long-winded answer irked him. The winds of the tsunami contained within him grew in ferocity and number. He was livid - internally - below the surface of his skin. He did not believe the man.

"If you hurt her -"

"You'll what, Namikaze?" Kabuto's eyes flashed with blatant defiance. "You'll beat me with a cane?"

The winds stilled. For a brief moment. He felt nothing. "Worse." He promised. He did not need a cane. His hands were more than good enough and something inside of him told him that he would take great pleasure in the act of brutal violence. A primal part of him he was sure. He did not wait for him to acknowledge the comment. He pushed away from the counter and bounded out of the shop. His long, confident strides covered the distance to the compound quickly.

He did not stop for a soul. It was only when he entered the main kitchen and placed the groceries on the counter that he turned to a stunned-looking Tomoha and said "The Sensei has her."

The woman's face instantly paled. And it was not until later that evening that Tsunade had an epiphany that had nearly all of their stomachs dropping. Kabuto was Orochimaru's student.

"What does that mean?" Minato asked after unclenching his jaw just long enough to get the words out. He leaned back against the desk in the study, his arms crossed over his chest. His frame was as tight as his expression.

"Nothing. It means nothing." Jiraiya all but glared at Tsunade. Something about it made Minato's stomach churn unpleasantly.

"Ojisan," his steely gaze captured Jiraiya's eyes brimming with reluctance.

"Orochimaru was our classmate," Tsunade explained curtly. "He was asked to leave."

"The village?" Minato frowned as he looked between the two former classmates. A silent conversation took place that he had no purview of.

"The country," Jiraiya said with a sigh. He ran his hand over his face.

"Why?" He regretted asking the question the second it left his lips.

"It was discovered that he conducted experiments," Tsunade's face became stony as the entirety of her body language became closed off.

Minato was standing up right now. "What kind of experiments?" His eyes were practically slits as his navy orbs shone through like sapphires against a backdrop of snow.

"Orochimaru was - is - obsessed with obtaining immortality," Tsunade answered. "Prolonging death for as long as possible."

"His subjects," Jiraiya rubbed his hands slowly, mulling his words. "Did not fit a pattern. He was not picky. The elderly, the crippled, women…children." He swallowed thickly. "Mostly the poor or the orphaned. Prostitutes."

"People that would not be missed. People who did not have anyone to come looking for them or asking questions. The castaways of society." Tsunade chimed in. "Soft targets."

"It's how he was able to get away with it for so long, right under everyone's noses." Jiraiya ran his thumb along his jaw. His eyes were trained on the floor as he sat in his chair hunched forward. He slowly tapped his fingertips together. Repeatedly.

"How long?" Minato asked when he found his voice again. The more they spoke the worse it all became.

"Two decades," it was Tsunade's voice, so solemn. She bit the inside of her thumbnail. "The official record said he had over seventy-eight victims. And that is the conservative estimate. Some rumors put the numbers in the hundreds. Hundreds!" She spat out, seething with outrage.

"Why wasn't he killed?" Minato asked with horror etched on his face. "How did I not hear about this?"

"It was kept quiet. The Shogun funded a lot of Orochimaru's research. Not officially of course but through back channels. There was no concrete evidence but when they caught wind of what he was trying to do and what he actually did, they covered it up and told him to not come back." Jiraiya explained while rubbing the back of his neck. He looked haggard to have the past be brought up like this.

"What did he actually do?" Minato had to know. No matter how awful it all was. He had to know.

"He made a serum that gave one man the strength to fight hundreds." Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. "It was actually sold to Iwa in the last war."

"Kami," his heart stopped. "What happened?"

"It was unstable. Iwa either didn't store it properly or administer the ratios correctly but your Otosama and I came across the aftermath. A whole battalion was dead. Bleeding from the eyes and mouth. Not a single survivor." Jiraiya closed his eyes and tried desperately to get the still very vivid imagery out of his mind.

"The Battle of Kannabi Bridge." Minato's eyes widened in realization. "It won the war. It was because of that battle that Otosama was granted all this."

"He ordered the bodies to be burnt. None of the men spoke of it again. It was too gruesome. Too much. It was something we all desperately wanted to forget."

Tsunade eyed him with sympathy in her eyes.

"You retired after that victory," Minato pulled more pieces of the puzzle together. "You started traveling after that battle."

"I saw enough death to last me five lifetimes, kid." Jiraiya eyed him solemnly.

"So Otosama just benefited from a tragedy?" Minato could not believe what he was hearing. He only had one thing to admire about his father and that was who he was as a warrior. And to learn that he was not what he thought, that his rise to fame was on the back of thousands dying left more than just a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt sick.

"Your Otosama," Jiraiya leaned back in his chair heavily. "Was a great military mind. He would have earned all of this anyway, I am sure of it. It would have taken longer and more casualties on our side but it would have happened. He made the most of a bad, tragic situation. Most generals would have done the same in his place."

"You wouldn't have." He countered. He knew that in his bones. He knew that even without knowing what he would have done if he had been in his father's shoes.

Jiraya smirked humorlessly. "My ambition was always lower. It's a disservice to compare us. Oniisama had a vision and sight of the bigger picture always. My goal was to not die and not let those under me die if it could be helped. We were not the same." He looked at Minato with the full weight of his scrutiny. "You would have done the same as me. I know that. Especially considering the risk you took upon yourself to end the war, to save your men. That took courage Minato." Pride colored Jiraiya's words.

Minato's head was starting to spin in earnest now. "We need to get her out of there. If the Sensei is anything like his shishou…" he started to pace. "We need to get her out right now."

"And what good would that do?" Tsunade glared at him. "You bring her right back here and Danzo finishes her off? We have no idea what condition she is in. If she can be moved. We can't keep her here and we can't take her to the Senju Compound and no inn or hotel will take her in if Danzo tells everyone she stole from this house."

Minato stopped moving erratically. He stared at Tsunade. "She can stay with another clan house. The Nara's. The Uchiha's."

"You're grasping at straws." Jiraiya threw his arm over the back of his chair. "The more people involved the greater the chance this all gets away from us."

"Because it's so contained right now? Because everything is under control right now?" He could not believe what he was hearing.

"Minato, you've had a shock learning everything you did. You need to calm down." Tsunade held up her hands in an effort to placate him and ease him into a chair.

"No!" He snapped. "She's in danger."

"We don't know that," Jiraiya said firmly. "We know where she is. That is more than what we knew yesterday."

"Jiraiya is right. You need to get a grip on yourself." Tsunade bit the corner of her lip. She looked at the white-haired man. "Danzo is the problem we need to address first."

"I thought you would be jumping at the chance to take her home." Minato addressed Tsunade incredulously.

"Believe me," her nostrils flared in a warning, "I am. She is my flesh and blood. I changed her diapers. I held her hand while she learned how to walk. No one, no one, wants her back more than me but Jiraiya has a point. Danzo is a problem. He can still find ways to hurt you and this house and by extension Sakura." Tsunade reasoned levelly.

"The only way for you to get out from under his thumb is to become untouchable," Jiraiya explained patiently.

Minato paused to let it all sink in. his eyes moved from their faces. "I need to become Shogun."

"The sooner the better," Tsunade said with a nod. "Danzo is a threat to my mother's home as well. He's been allowed to go unchecked for so long. He needs to be stopped."

"It's now or never, Oi." Jiraiya's eyes softened slightly at the distress hidden in the depths of Minato's irises.

"How can we just sit back while he's…" his voice broke before he could complete his thought.

"Kabuto and Orochimaru had a falling out. Stop catastrophizing. There is no proof that Kabuto is anything like his Master. Hell, the experiments could have been the reason why he left Orochimaru in the first place. There is a presumption of innocence. Kabuto could just be a Sensei. Nothing more and nothing less." It sounded like Tsunade was trying to convince herself just as much as she was convincing Minato.

"How can you be sure?" His cobalt eyes implored them.

"About as sure as I was she would be safe here," Tsunade said without blame. She simply stated a fact.

Minato's face fell and his insides raged.

"Level heads," Jiraiya said after a long sigh.

The air in the room was heavy and bleak.

---

He lay awake staring at a ceiling that never changes, waiting for her to come in any form to him either as a dream or a delusion. All the while his hand tugged away at the brown cloth wrapped around his left wrist. A piece of her kimono. The only thing he had left of her.

---

"Ojisan?" Minato called out to the retreating back of his uncle. Jiraiya turned around slowly. They had just finished breakfast. A long and awkward affair. All thanks to a lone dark eye that watched and judged everything.

"Did you know?" Minato asked the question that had been rolling around in his mind all night like a tumbleweed. "That Sakura is a Senju?"

The mild curiosity completely dilated from his face. Jiraiya crossed his arms. "Of course I did." He said with a scoff. "I hired her. Tsunade asked me to."

He was an idiot. Jiraiya's response only cemented that fact. He had never asked. He just assumed Tomoha had hired her.

"And she has Senju blood but she is not a Senju." Jiraiya sighed. "You were what three, four when her mother ran away from Konoha to marry her lover of a whole five minutes. It was a huge scandal. Both Senju daughters sullied the name of their father. The townsfolk ate it up for years. Mito-Obaasan didn't leave her house for at least a decade after that." He tilted his chin to his chest. "She's a real piece of work, the youngest daughter. Her mother." He added roughly.

'Love is for the rich and connected.' Her dry voice rang out in his ears.

Minato ignored his racing mind as he filed away the information for later. "Sakura is an Uzumaki," he thought out loud. "She's related to Mito-sama." He made the connection. The unexpected connection.

"Small world," Jiraiya said with a snort. He studied his nephew with a critical eye. "You really didn't know?"

Minato shook his head. "I didn't ask…."

Jiraiya laughed. "You two really are made for each other." He clapped Minato on the shoulder. He left his nephew stranded with only his thoughts for company.

---

The air was cold in his lungs. The weather was indecisive. It did not know whether to commit to warmer temperatures or to cling to the cool of winter. So it did neither or was it both? And it was a recipe for all kinds of bad things. Increased chance of sickness being one. Naruto appeared to be a little under the weather - or he was very proficient at faking as per Kakashi's theory - which was of no cause of concern but envy. Naruto did not have to honor his obligations. And Minato felt more than a little guilty for being jealous of his son yet again.

He pushed open the kitchen door - not because he was hungry or hiding but because Naruto demanded fresh juice for his itchy throat - only to find an unusual sight. His arm dropped to his side just as he finished taking two steps forward so that the wooden door behind him could swing closed without impediment.

"What's wrong?" The words tumbled out of his mouth at the sight of tear streaks, red eyes, puffy cheeks, and an oh-so-sad expression on the young girl's face.

Rin, at his question, turned her head covering her face from the world. Tomoha's hand cupped the back of her head protectively as she pressed the crying girl to her chest.

"Rin wrote to Juna," Tomoha explained solemnly. "She got a reply yesterday. When the clip was still missing, when I was still looking for it - before I told anyone that it was missing." She spun in circles not quite ready to say what needed to be said. Minato's manufactured calm, his controlled calm compelled her to keep going.

"The day Juna left," Tomoha let out a long sigh. "She said that a servant told Sakura I gave her a job, a job in the main house."

Minato's blond brows connected in the middle. His jaw was set in a hard line, sharp like a battle-ready sword. There was an impatience to him but it was drowned out by a sea of confusion.

"I never gave her such a job." Tomoha provided the missing context.

Understanding hit him swiftly and a little painfully. It left him breathless. "Who?"

"Hara Uka," Tomoha answered, knowing the name meant nothing to Minato. "She's been here for almost seven years."

They had a name. Finally, they had something to look further into and investigate. It was a start. He hoped that it would be the thread that caused everything Dazo had set to unravel.

"Thank you, Rin-chan." His expression softened from the bringing of death to something warmed by the gratitude he felt for the girl exhausting the options the way she did.

She peaked her head out of Tomoha's arms and regarded him with a grim expression.

"It will be alright." He promised yet another child.

---

"So your parents died when you were two," Kakashi spoke after some time. The silence was not uncomfortable but it was nicer to hear her speak and to hold a conversation.

"Their caravan was targeted by bandits - disgraced samurai. They were robbed and killed. I was staying with my aunt and uncle at the time. I don't have much memory of them. Obasan and Ojisan are my Okaasan and Otosan in all the ways that mattered anyway." Shizune smiled softly as she peered over the courtyard where Naruto was playing loudly with three other boys who were around his age group. "They could not have children. So I filled that void for them and they filled the voids I had."

"Blood isn't everything," Kakashi noted solemnly. "Both my parents died when I was young too. Tomoha-san raised me. Minato, her, and Jiraiya-sama are all the family I know."

"Naruto-kun too," she shot him a look.

"Yeah," Kakashi chuckled. "Him too."

"Why do you pretend to not like him?" Shizune asked him not quite jokingly.

"What makes you think I do?" Kakashi asked with a raised brow.

"Your eyes, Kakashi-san," she giggled at the confusion held in his forehead. "Despite conversing with me, your eyes keep going over to him. Your ears are trained to the sound of his voice. You, sir, are protective. And that protectiveness is born out of fondness. You can't fool me." She winked at him. "I'm very well rounded."

"That you are," Kakashi's eyes wandered, leading her to elbow him in the ribs. "What? You started it."

"And I'm finishing it," she responded coyly. She tilted her head to the side. Her expression sombred. "Sakura's like a sister to me. She calls me Shizune-Oneechan." The light nearly left her eyes.

"We'll find her. We'll bring her back home." Kakashi smiled softly at her, his dark eyes crinkled.

Shizune's hand twitched as it brushed against the back of Kakashi's. He did not move away at the unexpected but not unwelcome contact.

---

The bandages around her chest felt tight and uncomfortable. They constricted her movements instead of providing support. But that was not entirely their fault. She should be resting but lying on her side or stomach and doing nothing sounded much worse than dealing with slight discomfort and strain. Her shoulders and hips were sore. Not from her beating but from the hours she spent lying up on her side. And she refused to sleep on her stomach. She was in much too vulnerable of a position to do that.

Staying busy was the only thing that was keeping her sane. She had time. She had control of her facilities. She could do something. She needed to do something. She had endless resources at her fingertips. She had supplies. She could make a difference. She could be useful to him. To the people of Konoha. She had to excel in her new role. It was that simple.

"The third one," Sakura pointed to the jar that was three away from where Anko's hand currently was. "The star anise."

Anko grabbed the shelf with her left hand tight and leaned as far to the right as she could for the jar. She pushed up onto her toes.

"Careful!" Sakura looked through her fingers. "Your feet, Anko-chan!" She yelped in concern as the girl's toes inched closer and closer to the edge. "Come down. We'll just move the stool."

"I almost have it," Anko said with a strain. She just needed another inch or two before she would be able to grab the jar from the second from the top shelf and bring it down.

"Anko-chan!" Sakura covered her face.

The distinctive and utterly recognizable sound of glass hitting a hard surface before completely shattering filled the room. Star anise scattered around the floor like shrapnel. Sakura felt a sharp pain in her forearm. It did not take long for the sensation of hot blood running down her arm to register with her brain. She frowned as she regarded the sizable shard of glass embedded in her flesh.

"Are you okay, Anko-chan?" She asked after pulling it out and pressing fabric scraps to the cut. Her green eyes glittered with concern at the pale face of the girl. She was frozen in place with a look of horror still on the step stool.

"Anko-chan," Sakura carefully stepped over the minefield of broken glass, not really wanting to get any on the bottom of her feet. "Anko-chan," she nudged the girl with the elbow of the arm that was applying pressure to the cut.

Anko jumped slightly.

"Take my shoulder and get down. Carefully." Sakura commanded with authority. The lack of hesitation shocked Anko into complying. She gripped Sakura's shoulder and slowly got off the step stool.

"Are you okay?" Sakura looked up and down her body with her eyes not finding any cuts or abrasions. She did not expect the glass to ricochet that high but she could not be too careful. Infections were not fun to deal with.

"I broke it," Anko uttered in a stunned state. No sooner had the words left her lip had she started to shake. Almost violently.

"It's okay," Sakura gripped her by the shoulder. "It's okay. It was an accident." She tried to calm down the distressed teen. "You're okay. It wasn't on purpose. These things happen." But Anko still shook despite Sakura's soothing words.

"Anko-chan," Sakura called out her name firmly but the girl was still shaking and refusing to look at her. "It's okay," Sakura tried to push the dark strands of hair from her face.

The girl lurched away, coiled as far as she could from Sakura at the movement of her hand. As if she was expecting Sakura to strike her. The pinkette opened her mouth to ask Anko yet again if she was okay when the sound of footsteps had her lips closing instantly.

"What's going on here?"

Sakura turned around. Her heart skipped a beat. "Sensei," she took a couple of steps forward, shielding the shaking Anko from his view. "Careful!" She held out her hand to stop him from coming around the separator behind the counter. "I dropped a jar. It shattered. There's glass everywhere." She explained at the confused look on his face.

"What did the jar contain?" His eyes were cold and his tone even colder. It caused tendrils of fear to rise in her.

"Star anise. The jar was mostly empty. That's why I reached for it. I was trying to refill it." She smiled at him timidly, apologetically. "I'll get this cleaned up. I'm so sorry Sensei. My grip isn't as strong as I thought."

"Sakura," Kabuto clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You should be resting." He looked over her shoulder. "Were you up on that stool?" He asked with a frown. Sakura nodded meekly, not meeting his eyes. "You could have experienced dizziness and fallen. You should not be up on your feet."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled under her breath.

"Come here," he grabbed her wrist and led her to the other side of the counter.

She did not fight being lowered into a stool.

"You're bleeding," his voice caught between exasperation and worry.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, keeping her eyes on her sandals. There were blood spots down the front of her blue kimono. She looked over her shoulder at the girl, she was curled into a ball, rocking back and forth in the corner. "I can dress it myself, Sensei." Sakura began her protests as he rolled up her sleeve. "You should get back to packing and rest. You have a long trip ahead of you."

"You're telling me to rest?" He asked her with a smirk. "Ironic isn't it?"

"I think you mean hypocritical," she corrected with a small smile.

Kabuto chuckled. "I suppose you're right." His eyes darted to Anko. "What happened?"

"The jar made a loud sound," Sakura explained. "She'll be alright."

"Make her clean this up, you're not well enough to do it." He finished dressing her wound. "Do you plan on bathing tonight?"

Sakura blinked at him at the question, caught off guard.

"Come find me to redress it if you do. I'll be up for a few more hours." He squeezed her shoulder before he grabbed the remaining bandages and disappeared from where he came.

Sakura slowly got to her feet. She lowered her sleeve down to her wrist. She grabbed a broom and began to clean up all the glass. She got on her hands and knees, ignoring the pain in her back, and picked up every last bit of star anise. It was only when all of them were put into a new jar that she sat on the floor with the girl.

"You're okay, Anko-chan." She said in a soothing voice over and over again until the girl stopped shaking and shedding silent tears.

Anko had to help her off the floor. Sakura ultimately decided not to bathe that night.

---

"Your bento," Sakura held out the box wrapped in a blue and white print cloth.

"Thank you, Sakura," Kabuto smiled warmly at her in gratitude. "You shouldn't have, given your state."

"I wanted to," Sakura returned his smile. "Anko-chan didn't let me do anything strenuous. I was sitting mostly for the whole process." She added with a light-hearted laugh. "How long will you be gone?"

"Hancho has the new inventory already. Shouldn't be more than a handful of days. A week at most. I'll be sure to make time for Tonkia. See how your Otosan is doing." He put his medical bag on the cart that was waiting just at the back entrance of the shop. Away from most of the bustle. It was the early hours of the morning. There was nary a soul awake before the stars went to sleep.

"Please don't tell them anything," her eyes continued to make their plea long after her words had. She handed him a letter with a solemn expression. There was no return address. If he delivered it to the post office in Tonkia himself as she asked him, her parents would have it a day after his arrival. She could only hope they did not put two and two together. The shock alone from learning that she lived with a single man might just kill her father. She could not walk the letter over to the post office for obvious reasons. Lee-san would demand to know what happened to her and why he had not seen her around all these weeks.

"Thank you, Sensei, for loaning me the money. I can never repay you for your kindness." She bowed her head.

"Sakura," he said her name with pity. "Are you sure?" Everything she earned went right back to paying for her father's treatments.

"I'm sure, Yakushi-Sensei." Her expression was as tight as the rest of her posture.

"Okay," he tucked the letter away in his dark blue haori. "Please don't beg me again like you did. I am happy to help. I am fortunate enough to be in a position to."

"I have no right to ask you for anything, Sensei." She kept her eyes off of him. She could not ask. All that was left was to beg. And for her parents, if she had to be a beggar she would gladly do it. It was her fault that she became what she did. She hung herself with the rope that Tomoha had warned her about.

"Sakura," he sighed deeply. "It would be good for you to take some walks. Get some sun." He tried to maneuver the conversation to something less upsetting.

"There is sun in the courtyard. I'll sit on a chair." She smiled sweetly.

"Your aunt," Kabuto began heavily. Sakura's shoulders dipped at the mention of her. "She was worried about you. You should try to get a message out to her. Just let her know you're okay."

Sakura shook her head. "No. I can't face her. I can't look at her after ruining everything she did for me. It's better if she distances herself from me." She could not tarnish Tsunade's name along with her own. She could not handle that.

He stood there for a long time just taking in her guilty face. Maybe he was expecting something from her but if he was not going to tell her, she was certainly not going to ask.

"Sakura."

She tried not to fidget. She was still not used to him saying her name in the manner he was. So familiar.

"I wish I didn't have to go." His tone conveyed that. "With you still recovering and so vulnerable."

She did not know whether to lower her head in the meekness she was surrounded by or to hold her head up high to convince him that she was fine. She settled for doing nothing.

"I'm going to be worrying about you the whole time." He made a sympathetic sound. "No one will hurt you. I can promise you that. As long as you stay close to the shop. No one will dare lay a hand on you. That I can promise you."

"I know." She bowed her head. "I'm not scared." She was not. Danzo, the man who still plagued her nightmares could not touch her in reality. Not when her eyes were wide open. He got what he wanted. She was out of the house and she was cooperating. He had no use for her. There was no reason for him to waste his time with the likes of her. Dream Danzo she welcomed. Because if she was dreaming of a raven-haired man it meant she was not dreaming of him, of the Crow. For the crow, with yellow hair and blue eyes, could hurt her in ways Danzo never could. And it was irrelevant if she was awake or asleep.

She did not move when his hand came to wrap around her bicep. She felt his fingers squeeze. She counted to three slowly in her head. It was her way to assure her voice would not betray her by showing weakness.

"You need to get supplies Sensei." She smiled with just her lips. "So many people are counting on you." She dipped her head. "Please do not let them down on my account."

"You'll rest? And follow your treatment regimen?" He searched her face. The very face that could not make eye contact with him.

"I will. I won't overdo it." She promised. "Anko-chan has been taking very good care of me." It was the truth. The teen was her angel of mercy. In more ways than one.

"Good." He nodded his head. His fingers trailed up to her face. She kept her expression neutral. "Good." He lowered his hand to his side. He held her bento to his chest.

"Have a safe journey, Yakushi-Sensei," she bowed her head. "Please don't worry about the shop or anything."

"Take care of yourself, Sakura." He said with a tenderness that made her stomach drop. She kept her expression neutral as the back of his fingers caressed her cheek.

She smiled and waved until the cart carrying him was no longer visible. The smile slipped off her face but her eyes never changed. They were as empty as the hole in her chest where her heart should have been.

---

Naruto's little fists held his most prized possession tightly. He traced the lines of her round face with a careful touch.

"Okaasan," his eyes were dry but his voice and lip quivered. "Did you take Sakura with you too? Because Sakura is a Hime like you?" He implored the unmoving image. He waited with an innocence yet not lost to the harsh realities of the world, for her lips to move or for some kind of sign. Only it never came.

"Sakura said that if I miss you, I can talk to your picture. But she never told me what to do when I miss her." He swallowed audibly. "I miss her, Okaasan." His eyes held the pain only those who have had their hearts broken would recognize and identify. "Today, I was playing with Choji. He fell. His Okaasan kissed his boo-boo and gave him a treat. I came home and accidentally hit my head on my desk. I dropped something. I wasn't paying attention. It hurt. A lot. No one kissed my boo-boo. Sakura wasn't here. She would have hit my desk and yelled at it." He laughed a little. "She's really silly."

His face fell. "Oh!" He jumped at the sound of footsteps. "Got to go. Goodnight, Okaasan. I love you." He pressed his kiss to the portrait before shoving it hastily under his pillow. He jumped back onto it and folded his hands on his chest. He smiled innocently at his father who entered the room.

"Who were you talking to Naruto?" Minato asked him with a gentle smile on his lips.

"Okaasan," Naruto answered.

"I see," Minato sat on the edge of the bed, facing Naruto. "Are you ready for the next chapter of my favorite book?"

Naruto made a face. "Tochan?"

"Yes, Naruto?" Minato regarded him with warmth in his cobalt eyes.

"Can we pray for Sakura to come home? Together I mean." Naruto looked at him with hope and innocence that tugged at Minato's very raw heartstrings.

"Pray?" Minato could not help but ask in confusion mixed with surprise. Prayer was not something traditionally done in this house. Only done on special occasions.

Naruto nodded his head emphatically. "You know! Like Sakura and I prayed every night together for you and Kaka-Ojichan to come back home safe! She said it would be stronger if we did it together. And It worked! You came home."

He suddenly became very aware of his knees and just how much weight he carried on them. Had he not been sitting down already, he would have stumbled for sure. Naruto's admission left him floored.

'I pray that you are safe.' Her letter containing her very words sat tucked away in his desk. He had not thought twice about it when he had read it.

"I had no idea," he muttered under his breath. He looked at his son with his heart in his throat. "Can you show me how?"

Naruto nodded his head. "It's easy. The exact words aren't that important, that's what Sakura said. She said just to speak from the heart. She said that Kami listens to those with pure hearts the quickest." Naruto brought his palms together. "You do this and you just say something. Like…dear Kami, please bring Sakura home really, really soon. Thank you!"

Naruto beamed at him. "See, easy."

"It is," Minato lowered himself onto his knees, tucked his elbows in, and looked at Naruto. "Lead us off Naruto."

Minato waited until Naruto closed his eyes to do the same. His little face was carved into lines of solemnity. Minato bowed his head. His mouth moved in tandem with the words Naruto spoke but he could not bring himself to verbalize it. If what Sakura said was true, his dark heart would negate any benefit that praying together brought. He would leave it up to Naruto. He was their best chance. His heart was as pure and open as Kushina's. Endless in its capacity to love and forgive.

---

Her chin was tilted up. Her hair was darker than a raven's wing, almost reflective in nature, piled high on her head. Kept up with wax and hairpins. The added weight on her neck made her feel invincible. It was her own take on a helmet. Nothing could touch her. Her black kimono, regal in both material and movement, parted the path for her. The lion, crafted in thin golden silk, protected her from conversations and scorn of the weak-willed and minded. Her red lips, the color of the darkest rose, were overdrawn on her face that was powdered whiter than snow. Her hands were tucked away into her long sleeves, hidden from the soft rays of the March sun. Hands and neck always betrayed true age. Everything else could be coaxed.

She came to a stop at the shop. It was early but she could see lanterns lit. She reached for the door and stepped inside with the grace of a dance. A head covered in white fabric - Reimi blinked a couple of times to be sure - rose up to look at her. She was greeted with a soft smile.

"Good morning," the woman's voice called out. She sat up from her seat with a slight grimace. Her movements were gingerly and small as if to minimize the clear discomfort hidden away in her emerald eyes.

"I'm here to see the Sensei," Lady Reimi moved to the counter, not paying any mind to the plethora of jars and containers that drew the eye. She did not have much time to waste.

"I'm sorry," the woman did look apologetic. "The Sensei is away for a few days. Was he expecting you?"

Reimi frowned. The lines of her face were creased into the layers of powder. "A few days?" That would not do. She would lose a lot of business in just a few days.

"Yes," the woman regarded her. Not with malice or contempt but with neutrality. "Is there something specific that you need?"

Reimi bit the inside of her cheek. Her week could not get off to a worse start. Especially considering how many lonely samurai were back in town after five years of being at war. Some came back home only to find their wives had left them or died of some unnamed disease. She faltered.

"I'm not the Sensei but I can try to help." The woman smiled softly. "I know a thing or two."

Reimi sighed. She did not have the time or means to go two towns over. She had nothing to lose. "My girls," her dark gaze scrutinized the woman for any change in expression - if she had not gauged what Reimi did for her line of work she would now - "have an unfortunate condition that is impeding their ability to provide for themselves."

"Tell me more, please," the woman leaned forward on her forearms. There was nothing but professional intention in her gaze. No judgment, disgust, or disdain. Just curiosity.

"There's burning while urinating, itching, some discharge." Her hand gestured discreetly to just below her hip.

"I see," the woman pulled down on her bandana as she thought. She ran her index finger along her bottom lip.

Reimi watched silently without much expectation or hope as the woman began to flip through her notebook that was open on the counter. She muttered to herself as she periodically looked at her notes and the wall of jars behind her. The madam drummed her nails in a rude and impatient gesture as she waited but the woman behind the counter did not seem to register it.

"A little of this," the woman opened the first jar. She deposited a handful of dried cloves into a mortar and pestle that was at the end of the counter on the other side of her notebook. She pulled it towards herself. And like that, she would talk to herself and fill the stone mortar.

"Can you please hand me some of that?" The woman pointed somewhere behind Reimi.

A long, dark, bold eyebrow shot up.

"Please?" The woman looked up. "It will be faster than me trying to walk over and do it." She explained slightly out of breath.

"Are you alright?" Reimi asked the question while turning around and grabbing the jar of green dust-like substance behind her.

"Fine," the woman panted as a thin layer of sweat clung to her forehead. "Just recovering," she all but mumbled.

"What's your name, child?" Reimi set down the jar on the counter.

"Sakura," the woman said with a small smile in thanks. She opened the lid and deposited a small handful of the dust into the mortar.

She studied the woman with a critical eye. She had big, bright green eyes and a nose that while did not add character also did detract from her beauty. Her side profile was balanced. Her features were symmetrical. Her skin tone was even and smooth. Her forehead was on the larger side but the negative of it was negligible when everything else was taken into account. And the pink hair - that she knew she had tucked away under the white cloth - that certainly made her very, very interesting and unique.

"Have you been here long, Sakura?" Reimi asked with a raised brow.

"No," the woman answered simply.

"Where is the girl? Anko?"

"Sleeping," Sakura answered distractedly without looking up. She scraped off the paste that had formed from the ingredients and her labor. She put it into a jar. "Have them apply this to the area twice a day. With clean hands. They should feel better after about two days. No pain after one. If you need more please come back."

Reimi eyed the dark green substance. "Alright."

"If you give me ten more minutes I can have a powder ready for you to put into teas which would make it less likely to get a yeast infection, the ailment that is plaguing your girls. Along with other kinds of infections that they run a higher risk of." Sakura's voice was level and smooth; it did not fluctuate with squeamishness or embarrassment.

"How much is it going to cost me?" Reimi asked with a frown. She ran a business. Her affected girls could not bring money in so she needed to address it. While she wanted her girls to be comfortable she did not have extra money to throw around for preventatives.

"Nothing," Sakura said with seriousness. She would make it from the ingredients Anko gathered for her when the teen accompanied the Sensei to the clearing. So she could offer it for that price.

"Nothing in this world costs nothing," Reimi narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"True," Sakura pushed her lips to the side. "It will cost information."

"Information?" Her surprise reflected on her face. The mask slipped away. Maybe she had misread the woman. Maybe she was not so honest and upfront. Maybe she was closer to the good doctor than she seems at face value.

"This shop," Sakura said with a sigh. "Does not have much in terms of women's health. The scrolls and knowledge in the books are pitifully lacking on the matter. I want to change that. I want to learn more about the issues that affect women and find ways to help close the gap a little." Now she looked a little embarrassed as if not sure how it would be received.

"And for that you need information." Reimi weighed the options.

"Yes," the woman fidgeted.

"Okay," Reimi said with a nod of her head. "I will give your information in exchange for preventatives. Now and in the future."

"Great!" The woman's expression brightened as did the strain. She sank back into the chair. "Sorry, I might need closer to fifteen." She took a sip of her water.

"Take your time, Sakura-chan." Reimi's red lips pulled into a smile. She watched the woman make her yet another concoction this time dry.

Reimi paid for the cost of the ingredients for the salve and promised to pay for the tea at a future time. Her hand curled around the handle of the door. She looked back at the tired-looking woman who had a glow of satisfaction on her face.

"You are a rare flower indeed, Sakura-chan. Do not let the world tell you otherwise." She turned before she could see the shocked look on Sakura's face and stepped into the street, with her purchases tucked away safely in a bag that dangled from her arm. Sakura was beautiful. She would do well for herself in Reimi's establishment but it appeared she had a bigger calling she needed to pursue and the madam was more than willing to help her see it through.

---

She sat with her back straight and her knees bent at ninety degrees on the chair. Any form of friction against her still-healing wounds caused jolts of pain to race up her spine and flood her brain. So she did her best to avoid it when possible. Sakura hummed a small tune to herself, a nursery rhyme she last heard when she was still in diapers but for some reason, it had imprinted in her mind. It surrounded her like a warm blanket on a cold day. It was comfort in the form of notes. She followed the whole life of the vibrations from her chest all the way up to her ears. It made it manageable. It kept the despair from setting into her bones and rendering her immobile and unable to do anything to defend herself.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head, exposing her neck to the soft rays of the sun as it filtered through the deep purple bell-shaped flowers of the magnolia tulip tree. Her fingers moved through her pink locks, working the knots out until she could glide them through without resistance. The errant strands were kicked into the wind. She watched them spin and dance as they rose up in the air, tangling themselves in the gray branches of the tree. She would have burned them. She did burn them but the Sensei was sensitive to smell. She had felt so awful that he was reduced to suffering migraines all day all because she lit a match in a room that was two doors down from his. Even if he was not in the residence, she did not want to add to his discomfort any more than she already had.

She smiled softly at the pair of sparrows moving in the wind. Darting and gliding to their hearts' content. The budding parents-to-be were busy building a nest in the canopy of the tree. She not so secretly hoped that they would build it low enough for her to see and watch the progress, while still keeping it high enough out of reach for the stray cats of Konoha.

She continued to hum as she watched the blurs of white and brown work diligently for the eggs that would eventually come to be.

---

He moved slowly. At a pace that was almost glacial. He dipped his head in thanks to the greetings and cheers. It was cumbersome dealing with the new notoriety of being the so-called hero that ended the war. It was difficult for him to take more than three steps without being stopped or recognized. He was starting to despise every minute of it. Each smile, each look of admiration reminded him that it was nothing more than a fraud. His father was a fraud and he was no different. He had ended the war but he had left his own house in disarray. He saved the sons of the Land of Fire from more hardship while plaguing his own into it. He cast out the enemy from the soil of his country while entertaining the one he lived with.

The groceries in his hand, because yes he was using any excuse he could to avoid spending time with Kin, felt heavy. Minato inwardly sighed for the umpteenth time. His mind drifted to thoughts of a pair of green eyes, a wide forehead, pink lips, and pink hair. He wondered if she was eating. He wondered if she slept. He wondered what conditions she was having to deal with in the battleground she was on.

He was completely in the dark. He could not write to ask her. He could. But she would not write back. He believed that. Just like she had not written back when he was away. When her letters abruptly stopped coming. Right before everything turned upside down in his life. Just when he was starting to get his bearings.

A sharp sudden pain pulled him from his thoughts of her. He lifted his left hand and furrowed his brow. Across his thumb, a line of crimson appeared. A droplet began to collect and pool at the tip of it. He looked closely, on the cut was a long strand of hair.

Pink.

His eyes widened as adrenaline overtook him. The groceries dropped to the ground. Produce spilled out of the bag, unnoticed and insignificant. Minato curled his hand around the single strand of hair, while his right dragged along the back wall that divided the resident portions of the shops from the street. His feet kicked up as his pace did. His heart was stammering against his rib cage. His cobalt eyes looked around anxiously, frantically at more strands of pink. For any sign of her.

The one in his closed hand was his sanity. It was proof that he was not hallucinating. He looked up as if expecting more to rain from the sky and line a path for him. He heard a faint sound.

A voice.

Singing?

No. it was humming. He pushed his feet to carry him even further, following the achingly familiar melody he had never heard before. He heard chirping. He used his right hand to shield his eyes. A pair of sparrows danced around each other as they moved higher and higher into a tree. He came to a stop. His eyes followed where they landed. In a partial nest. A nest held together by pink silk.

A ragged breath left his throat before it became a desperate sound of anguish. He traced the wall with his fingers and he ran further down trying to find the lowest entry point. There had to be a gate. And if there was a gate, it would be smaller than the brick-and-mortar of the outer wall. He did not think. The minute he saw the black metal picket gate between two to three feet tall, he hurdled over it. He looked around the small courtyard. His breath was overlapping. The next was there before the previous left.

He saw her. With her eyes closed and a smile on her face as hummed to herself. Her chin angled towards the sun, soaking in its radiant glow. Her back was not pressed up against the back of the chair but rather, held up by her own posture. She was in her brown kimono. The very one he wore a part of around his wrist. The one he liked best because it was dull and muted so it did not distract from the green of her eyes which reminded him of gemstones on dewy grass during dawn. Her hair - her hair pinker and softer and more beautiful than his imagination could ever so justice - was like a waterfall around her torso. Strong and thick. It completely took his breath away. She was beautiful. She was alive. She was okay. She was right there.

"Sakura," he said her name like he was breathing for the first time after holding his breath long enough to lose consciousness. Pure relief colored his tone. He moved quickly and without hesitation to close the distance.

"Sakura," he did not stop even when she rose to her feet. "Thank Kami, I found you." He gathered her into his arms. A hand moved to the small of her back and the other to cup the back of her head. "You're okay," he held her close to him. The sun heated his back. It surrounded them both in its warm embrace. She was solid. He could hear her heart beating every bit as frantically as his in her chest. "You're okay." He whispered into the crook of her neck. Inhaling her scent deeply. His lips pulled into a smile that came from deep inside the recess of his soul.

She was alive. She was okay. She was with him. She was safe. She was in his arms. She was not a dream. She was not a hallucination. She was real.

"Sakura." Her name was his salvation. And each breath his lungs drew in her presence rejuvenated him. She brought him to life. She was mending what was broken inside of him with the mercy of her company. It was a gift to just be able to stand next to her. Something he would never take for granted again. "I'm here."

---

A/N: That's all for today folks. Let me know how mad you are at me for leaving it off where I did lol. Don't be too mad. Got to keep your interest somehow, right? :)

Please review. Thank you!