ZERO / BLEACH / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED (here)

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? - Edgar Allan Poe

The city of dreams looked somewhat like an arcade game. That's what she had thought about Konoha the first time Shisui had brought her up here. The brilliant colors flashed and shifting throughout the night. Signs advertising potions and charms blurred together. The clocktower without a clock loomed in the distance, its face bright green and round like a sickly moon.

She had always wondered why Shisui chose to rent this old apartment with its peeling paint and its creaky floors. The hot water pipes banged and gurgled at random times at night. Which Sakura wouldn't have minded so much if they didn't scare the hell out of her when she was trying to sleep.

To be honest, Shisui's apartment was kind of crappy. Madara made sure that they were well cared for. In fact, she had once pointed out, he seemed to be overpaying them. To which Shisui had grinned and elbowed her as he made some sort of remark about Madara actually having a heart.

When Shisui opened the door to the roof, it all made sense. Why he, a man obsessed with the stars, would live in a place that definitely wasn't up to fire code. It was for access to the rooftop where he set up his fancy telescope. He even had a couple of camping chairs set up in the corner, along with a plastic cooler.

She was used to this place by now. As Shisui moved around setting things up, Sakura crossed the roof to whre the cooler sat. She cracked the lid to find a dozen tepid energy drinks.

"You didn't buy ice?" she scolded. She made a crushing motion with her right hand. The water droplets in the air compacted together, forming perfect pyramids of ice. They clattered together into the cooler.

"Because I knew you'd do that," Shisui called over to her with a grin.

Rolling her eyes, Sakura shut the cooler lid.

Itachi arrived a little while later, carrying a six-pack of beer.

"Where's Sasuke?" he asked.

Sakura checked her phone. "On his way. Says he's grabbing takeout."

Itachi hummed his approval. He crossed the roof to drop the beer in the cooler. He took a seat in one of the chairs, letting his head fall back.

Shisui motioned for Sakura. She stepped closer to him.

"Everything okay at home?" Shisui asked as he adjusted the settings on his telescope.

Sakura stuffed her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah. He's always been good to me. You know that," replied Sakura.

She was telling the truth.

Madara, awkward as ever, didn't know how to ask her about what had happened. She caught him, on more than one occasion, staring at her. Like the answer would flash across her forehead if he waited long enough. His clumsiness made her smile. How awful, she often thought, that she had grown to fear someone who made it so obvious that he cared.

Instead, Madara had started leaving treats at her door. As if leaving tribute at the altar of a particularly temperamental god. Bars of chocolate, her favorite sparkling water. Once she even found a slice of cake from a bakery that she hadn't been to in years.

Sometimes, she wanted to just sit him down and demand answers. She came very close to doing so. But she couldn't bring herself to shatter this little taste of normalcy. After a few loops of keeping him so far away, it felt nice to walk into her home, drop her things, and yell that she was hungry.

Once, she even brought some books home from the Senju Institute and pretended that she needed help with her thesis. Despite complaining half a dozen times that he was busy, he dropped everything and spent all night poring through reference materials with her.

"Sorry, Papa. I know you're busy," she said as he climbed the ladder to grab a book on a tall shelf. And the look he shot her was filled with disbelief.

"And you're not? You better not go to any of those fuckers at the Institute with stuff like this. They don't know shit," he retorted. And then he went on browsing a shelf while grumbling under his breath.

The only change was that her headaches grew in frequency and intensity when she tried to revert back to her old way of casting magic. She could feel the pressure building in her temples as she pulled the magic through her fingertips. Eventually, she would appear in the doorway of Madara's room, rubbing her forehead with the heels of her hands.

At first, Madara hadn't minded. But as her visits increased, his forehead wrinkled whenever he saw her.

The last time, Madara pulled his glasses off. He reached out for her. He sucked a breath in through his teeth.

"You're overdoing it," he scolded, taking her hands in his.

"I'm just doing my research," protested Sakura. As if she wasn't using every spare moment to practice manipulating magical energy. Testing to see which method yielded the best results.

Madara looked her in the eyes. That hadn't used to bother her. Now, it was a little unnerving.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked her.

Mashing her lips together, she forced back the tears that tried to squeeze out from her eyes. She smiled.

"You worry too much. I'm ok."

Madara held her gaze for another moment. It was obvious that he didn't believe her. But maybe he sensed the boundary she was drawing in the sand between them.

He pressed his fingertips to her temples. His energy channeled through the thin skin, warm as always.

"Take a deep breath. Inhale."

When he tugged, it was like tugging the criss-crossed threads of energy. They shattered like hard candy falling to the ground. Translucent and sparkly as it scattered in every direction. Gold fluttered from her temples, fluttering off in little glittering pieces.

Sakura's eyes opened in time to catch the glimmers of magic dissolving into the air. For an instant, there was a fuzziness to Madara. His outline was blurred, particularly around his head. There were words on the tip of her tongue. Something she should have said to him.

She reached out, her hand resting on his cheek. Madara's eyebrows rose.

The words almost left her mouth.

This shape doesn't really suit you.

Sakura grimaced as she rubbed his stubble.

"You need to shave, Papa," she said instead.

Madara's eyebrows rose. And then he laughed.

"You nag like a granny," he chuckled.

Tobirama's whispered request stuck with her.

"When you have time, come see us alone."

Sakura struggled with the idea for a day before she decided not to tell her cousins.

"Papa, I'm going to the Institute. I'll text you if I'll be late," Sakura called over her shoulder as she pulled her arms through her coat.

She paused to listen. When there was no response, she pointed and flicked her wrist as she repeated her words.

Her voice traveled up and down the stairs, spreading through the floors of the house like a bouncing ball. She could feel the way her words surged ahead, knocking walls and doors, spreading until she was sure that they could be heard everywhere.

After a moment, she felt Madara's magic wash over her in a wave. Soft. Just a little warm- as were the spells of most affinity casters.

Don't overdo it.

She had just missed the rush of the morning commute. There was even room to sit on the subway as it rattled along the tracks. Still, she conjured a spectral hand to grab on to one of the poles to keep balance. As she waited for her stop, she stared at the conjured hand. It was covered in a soft purple glow. She had always found it cute, but Sasuke had called it "creepy". When she scrutinized it, she realized that it wasn't a regular hand, but finger bones that grasped the metal pole instead. How had she never noticed that before?

When she walked into the administrative building, the secretary waved at her. Sakura waved back before she went back to texting Tobirama.

He replied to tell her that he was in his office wrapping up office hours. By the time she climbed the steps and knocked on his door, his students were gone. As usual, Tobirama was surrounded by stacks of half-graded research papers.

The heavy wood door swung shut behind them. The spirits that swirled around the room drew closer to her. They brushed her hair and face as she walked past them.

"Alone?" Tobirama sounded surprised, peering at her over his glasses.

"You told me to come alone," she said, frowning. When she reached for one, Tobirama didn't stop her.

Tobirama stopped writing. He stared at the paper in her hands. Then, he pushed a pen over to her.

Sakura stared at all of the errors on the front page of the assignment. The margins were all wrong. The heading was on the wrong side. The student had even misspelled "magic" in the first paragraph. She grimaced.

"So? What did you want to tell me?" she asked as the tip of the pen scratched across the paper.

A tear opened in the air beside Tobirama. The rift that opened was dark green. Hands gripped the edges of the tear. Hashirama pulled himself through. He sealed the tear with a wave of his hand. He smoothed his long hair back and straightened his jacket before he inclined his head at Sakura.

"Headmaster," she greeted him in response.

"That unlocking spell from the other day," Hashirama said.

Sakura blinked a few times until she realized what he was referring too. She flipped to the next page, scanning through the words.

"Oh. Yeah?"

"That's necromancy. Are you aware of that?"

Her pen paused. She lifted it off the page and then looked up at Hashirama.

"What?"

Hashirama just stared at her. When she looked across the desk at Tobirama, he nodded. Pulling his glasses off, he pointed at her fingers.

"You bled when you undid that barrier," Tobirama said.

"But I didn't kill or reanimate anything. How would that be necromancy?"

Hashirama stepped over to her. He took her hand. Her fingers were unblemished. Ino's healing spells were particularly good. Still, Hashirama examined her skin, as if he could see something she didn't.

"One of the basic principles of necromancy is manipulating the energy of living things. Sacrificing living blood to accomplish a task. That fits very neatly in the realm of necromancy," Hashirama explained. He released her hand.

"Have you ever cast that spell before?" Tobirama queried.

Sakura clenched and unclenched her hand as she thought. The only other time she could recall was whenever she unlocked the library the night she died over and over again.

As tears of panic began to fill her eyes, Sakura's fingers moved. She felt her pointer and middle finger reaching out. They hooked around nothing. And when they tugged together, she felt something snap. The stinging disappeared along with the unusual barrier. And when she turned the knob, this time the door to the library opened as it should have.

Had she been bleeding at the time? She recalled the pain in the tips of her fingers. But she hadn't thought to check for blood. Not when she was so busy running headfirst into danger.

"The scrying bones," she whispered.

"What?"

Sakura patted her pockets. She found them tucked into a zippered pocket. When she plucked a couple of them out, they whispered all at once. The syllables twisting together until she couldn't tell what any of them were saying.

"These… don't behave like normal scrying bones. They just… talk whenever they want and they only talk to me," explained Sakura. She held them up for Hashirama to examine. His eyes narrowed. As he reached for one, he hissed, drawing his hand back.

"What?" Tobirama demanded.

"It-"

"It burned you. Didn't it," Sakura interrupted Hashirama's complaint.

Hashirama's gaze sharpened. "It did."

And then Hashirama examined her expression. "Have you asked either of us about these bones before?"

She was positive that she hadn't mentioned time loops to them. She tried to keep her face from changing.

"You mentioned the idea that dreams and time have something to do with each other. And you're awfully calm for someone facing an absolutely horrific situation. So the only conclusion I can draw is that you've seen this all before," Hashirama explained. He looked over at Tobirama, then back at Sakura.

When Sakura just stared him down, Hashirama let out a sigh.

"You're just like him. Fine. Keep your secrets." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Doesn't change things."

Sakura opened her mouth. Hesitated. Then asked her question:

"Casting scrying bones is a type of divination. Unlocking a lock is transmutation. Your theory doesn't make sense."

Hashirama raised his eyebrows.

"Speaking with the dead is a type of necromancy. Blood sacrifice for spells is also necromancy," he corrected her.

Tobirama spoke up, his forehead wrinkling. "You also struggle with healing magic. That makes sense if it's in direct conflict with the nature of your magic."

Sakura scowled.

"See? He does that too whenever I talk," Hashirama pointed at her sour expression. Tobirama, sighing, pushed his brother's hand down.

"Back to the subject at hand. Sakura, based on my observations, I think there's a… nonzero chance… that you have been casting necromancy," Tobirama said. When Sakura opened her mouth, he quickly added: "Which is neither a good or bad thing. It just… is."

Sakura wrinkled her nose but she shut her mouth again. She took a moment to process that. She stared at the pen in her hand.

"The demon inside Naruto… it said… 'you've failed, necromancer. It's time to pay up'… I thought it was talking to Madara," she strung the thoughts together. Hashirama's eyes widened. He sat on top of Tobirama's desk.

"Is it possible that it was talking to me?" wondered Sakura, looking at the brothers now.

Hashirama avoided her gaze.

Tobirama folded his hands on top of his desk. Looking her right in the eye as he answered with complete honesty:

"I have less of an idea than you do, I'm sorry to say."

Sakura looked down at the half-graded essay in front of her.

"Is it possible that… I made the contract?" Sakura wondered.

"And that you, what, forgot afterwards?" Hashirama queried. He hummed as he looked over at his brother. Tobirama shook his head.

"No. It would look different. This isn't your magic," Hashirama said. And then he hesitated. "Do you mind…?" He gestured toward her.

It took Sakura a moment. She placed the research paper and pen down. She gathered her hair in her hand and pulled it over her shoulder. Hashirama got to his feet. He stepped around her to examine the back of her neck. He stared at the seal for a long time before he spoke again.

"Yep. Definitely not your doing. A self-inflicted seal, especially in a place you can't see would be sloppy," he announced.

Sakura let her hair fall over her neck, hiding the butterfly's wings.

"Is there a reason why it would take the shape of a butterfly?" she then wondered.

Itachi had done research on his own about that particular detail. But that had left them with more questions than answers.

Hashirama sucked his teeth. He took a few steps back, rubbing his hands together as he thought. Tobirama rested his cheek in his hand.

"There have been several instances of seals taking the shape of certain animals or insects. Usually it's a sort of stamp, to mark the person as being tied to a particular spirit. So it's possible that the uncorrupted spirit that made this contract is related to a butterfly," Hashirama slowly said, pulling the details from his head.

Sakura thought back to Naruto. Teeth sharp. Clawed hands even sharper.

"That's no butterfly," she muttered. Goosebumps rose on her arms from the memory alone. She rubbed her hands up and down them, scowling.

"Or. The other possibility is that it reflects the nature of the contract. Insects can symbolize rebirth-"

"Lifespans," Sakura blurted out, remembering what Itachi had told her.

Tobirama pursed his lips. "I don't think that really applies here," he spoke up.

They both looked at him.

"I mean… when you spoke with the spirit he said that he would 'gobble you up'. I think killing you would clash with the idea of simply shortening your lifespan," Tobirama explained.

Hashirama pointed at him. "Unless that means shortening her lifespan so drastically that it just ends there."

Tobirama frowned. "Spirits are tricky, but not dishonest. It seems like the end goal is Sakura's heart. In which case lifespan isn't part of the equation at all."

As the two brothers argued back and forth, Sakura thought back to that strange conversation with the demon living inside Naruto. Or rather, the demon that wore Naruto as a second skin.

"What would happen if I killed you right now?"

"You wouldn't. Not as you are now," he stated. And then he tilted his head. Red eyes narrowing. "Well, maybe you would. That would be sort of romantic. Or something like romantic, I guess."

"Romantic," she repeated out loud. "Romantic… necromantic…"

Sighing, she rose from her seat. The men stopped their debate mid-sentence to stare at her.

"You've given me a lot to think about. I think I need to think about this," she announced.

"Oh… sure. Get home safe."

That night, Sakura entered the dream world through the usual door. When she entered her room, she found that everything looked normal. She stared at the glass jars lining the pink walls of the room. The cushions stacked in the corner were the same colors as well.

She had never tried this before. As she stood in the middle of the room, she extended her hand, palm facing the ceiling. She gathered the energy in her chest, pulling it down her arms and into her fingers. The glowing runes began to rise above her palm as she twisted the energy into the shapes that she wanted. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she flipped her hand over so that her palm was facing the ground instead.

The world flipped with the movement of her hand.

She opened her eyes.

Her other self was lounging on the ceiling that was the floor. They stared at each other. The other woman sat up, straightening her legs in front of her. She laughed.

"Didn't expect you to pay me a visit."

Sakura looked down at herself. She pulled up the hem of her shirt to check that she wasn't bleeding. Her skin looked normal.

Her other self sighed. Waving a hand, she said: "Ah. That'll come later. We have some time until then."

"This is necromancy. To transport me here." Sakura didn't convey those words as a question. She already knew.

The other woman seemed to guess this. Heaving a sigh, she laid back down and folded her hands across her stomach.

"You think getting you here is easy? There's a price for all things. Matter, energy- it's all the same."

"Or blood," Sakura added.

Her other self shrugged, her lower lip jutting out. "Blood is matter, isn't it?"

"I found out today that I'm probably a necromancer," Sakura told her. She sat too. But it was awkward to crane her head back to look at the other woman. So she laid down too. It really was easier to talk to her like this. Her other self smiled.

"Clever," she commended. Her smile made it seem like she really did feel proud of that discovery.

"You're the scrying bones," Sakura then guessed.

Her other self beamed. But she tilted her head from side to side. "Yes and no. Closer to yes, though."

That made Sakura amend her guess. "You're a spirit? That's why you can never just say what you want to say."

The other woman's eyes narrowed. She crossed one leg over the other.

"Yes."

In all the times that they had met, there was one question that Sakura avoided asking. It was the most obvious one. But for some reason, she could never force it out of her throat.

"Why… why do you look like me?"

The moment the words left her mouth, Sakura felt warmth spread through her side, radiating from her ribcage. Blood began seeping from a tear in her skin. It soaked through her shirt. But there was no pain.

The other woman sat up.

"No. You look like me," she corrected Sakura.

Sakura woke with a start. She was shivering. Her covers had pooled around her legs during the night. Her body was cold and hot all at once. Her shirt was damp, like she had been sweating. She sat up in bed. She pressed her hand to her side without looking.

Sakura pushed down harder on the wound as she eased herself out of bed. A few drops of blood hit the floor as she moved. She took long, slow breaths as she made her way out of her room and down the hall to her the bathroom. She shut the door as quietly as she could before she flicked on the light.

There were always water spirits flitting in and out of the pipes here.

When Sakura peered into the tub, there was already one lounging inside

"You're hurt," the spirit gasped. Its silvery wings thrummed as they lifted her out of the tub.

"Could I get some help, please?" Sakura requested.

The spirit flew up to rest its tiny hands on her side.

It didn't take long for it to patch her right up. Sakura thanked it, cleaned up the blood she had dripped across the hall, and stripped her bedsheets. Thankfully, the mattress wasn't stained. If Madara worried later, she would just lie and say that her period had started.

It was just before sunrise. The sky was just starting to lighten over the silhouette of buildings. Sakura sat on the front steps to the apartment, watching. Breathing in the cool air.

"It used to be much less crowded here," she said out loud.

And then she frowned. The city had always been this crowded. Why had she said that?

By the time Madara stumbled down the stairs while scratching his stomach, Sakura stood in the kitchen making pancakes. He watched her from the doorway, yawning so hard that a tear rolled down his cheek. He rubbed it away as he leaned over her shoulder.

"Apples?"

There was a saucepan bubbling away on the back burner. Apples and orange peels mixed with cinnamon and brown sugar.

"Mhm. For the pancakes," she replied. And then she glanced at him.

"You've got an eye booger, Papa," she pointed out.

Madara rubbed his left eye.

"No. The other one."

He rubbed the other eye.

Surprisingly, after avoiding Madara so many times, it was easy to stay next to him. Easy to fall back into their old rhythm. Sitting in their too-big library flipping through their books, arguing over who got the last chicken wing (it was always her). Each time Sakura laughed and smiled with Madara, she knew that this was real. His affection was real. And it tore at something inside of her to know that he had made such a big mistake when he couldn't have possibly hoped for things to become so twisted.

The scrying bones were right.

She pitied Madara.

She couldn't fear or hate him.

"Are you sure you're safe in that house?" Ino asked for what felt like the millionth time when she dropped by the Senju Institute to help with research.

Sasuke, sitting on the corner of Sakura's desk, frowned. He looked up from his book, scrutinizing Sakura's expression.

She swiveled her chair around to wave at Ino.

"Why would I not be?" Sakura asked in return.

Ino dropped her bag. "Are you serious? Because you'll die!"

Sakura shrugged, turning her chair forward again. She bit down on the end of a pen. "You get used to it."

"How many times has it been for you now?" Ino demanded.

Sakura underlined a passage in her book. "Four," she replied without thinking. And then she stopped her pen. "Actually, maybe five. Not really sure if I died the first time around."

"Take a look at this. Is this what you were looking for?" Sasuke murmured, turning the book around for her to see. Sakura skimmed through the passage under his pointing finger about sacrificial magic. Her lips twisted to one side.

"Maybe," decided Sakura.

Sasuke picked up a sticky note and pressed it to the corner of that page. He went on reading.

Ino bit her lip.

"Don't cry. Help me with my research if that makes you so upset. The sooner we figure things out, the sooner I can stop dying, Ino," Sakura then told her.

Ino sniffed. She picked her bag up, throwing the strap over her shoulder. She sniffed again, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

"Okay. Tell me what to do," Ino said.

Sakura pointed at a big pile of tattered books near the window. Ino settled on a weathered stool and cracked open the tome on top of the pile.