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

I travel within myself, besieged by contradictions. -Mahmoud Darwish

The idea came to her on a snowy afternoon.

It was a slow day at the dream shop. Shisui sat at the counter, flipping through an old spell book. He rocked on the back legs of his stool. Sasuke texted with one hand as he stirred a new batch of sleeping draught in the back room. Itachi hurried into the shop, slamming the door behind him. Bits of snow swirled around him as magic whisked the cold away from his body.

"Bad outside?" asked Shisui without looking up.

"Yeah. Where are the others?"

"Sasuke's in the back. Sakura's with her 1 o'clock."

Sakura caught bits and pieces of the conversation as it rose up through the floorboards. She lit a candle with the tip of her finger. Her client this time around was a little boy. His mom sat in a chair beside his bed, looking like it had been a while since she'd gotten any sleep herself.

"You've still got about 15 minutes left. He should wake on his own when the candle goes out," Sakura informed the mother. The older woman nodded.

"Thank you," the mother whispered.

Sakura closed the door behind her as gently as she could. As she approached the stairs, she could hear her cousins more clearly.

"What're you brewing? That doesn't smell like the usual formula," Itachi was saying.

"Sakura just told me to watch the cauldron. She said she's working on something new."

There was a rustle. Itachi was flipping through the notes she had left beside the brew. He continued flipping as she descended the stairs with her hands in her pockets, not a shred of guilt on his face.

"No-sy," she scolded.

"Curious," Itachi corrected, not looking up from his reading. "What're you trying to do?"

"I want a stronger version of the sleeping draught. But I also don't want it to kill me," she explained.

Shisui nodded, rocking on the stool again, hands braced on the counter. "Yeah, that sounds bad. You've already got enough stacked against you on that front."

Itachi glared at him. Sasuke poked his head out of the back room to pin him with a disapproving look of his own. Itachi shut the notebook. He handed it to Sakura as she ducked under the counter to join them. She slapped Itachi's arm with it.

"Nosy," she reiterated without looking at him.

Shisui chuckled.

Sakura relieved Sasuke of his potion-watching duty. She peered into the cauldron to check the color and consistency.

"Do you really think that being more deeply asleep is the problem?" asked Sasuke, leaning against the doorframe. He folded his arms across his chest.

"No. But it can't hurt to try," she answered. Sasuke nodded. He pocketed his phone.

"Any updates from the Academy?" she then queried.

"They say no movement from Naruto's end. He's not exactly himself, though. Just… sits there… watching TV."

Sakura felt a twinge of something. She brushed it aside. "Well, that's what you get when a spirit pretends to be a person. His disguise doesn't need to fool anyone anymore. Why waste energy?" She stared down at her bubbling potion. A flower petal circled around the handle of the spoon.

Her hand stilled.

Waste energy pretending?

Maintaining an illusion was always a drain on magic reserves. Even the tiniest glamour spell siphoned off tiny bits of energy throughout the day. A simple spell might have such a minute effect that the energy use seemed negligible, but the truth was that every sustained spell had a cost.

That night, they crashed at Shisui's place. Shisui slept in his room while Sasuke and Itachi unrolled sleeping bags on opposite sides of the living room.

The draught she had brewed had an unpleasant kick to it. It tasted like a mouthful of grass clippings. But as soon as it hit her tongue, she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. Falling asleep was usually like floating on her back in a swimming pool. One moment, she was awake, and the next she was drifting. With the draught, it was more like someone grabbing her by the back of her shirt and throwing her into the dream world.

When she opened her eyes, the door was waiting for her. It seemed even taller than the last time. The vines twisted together as she approached.

She took a few steps forward. When she rested her palm on the door, the vines retreated, twisting in on themselves like a pile of snakes. Magic thrummed inside the wood, tingling against her skin. When she focused, she could feel the natural frequency of the magic particles buzzing inside. They were bound together, just like the atoms within a real piece of wood. She knew that if she undid the threads, they could turn into something new. Spilling over into water. Or even spouting up as a column of gas that would dissipate into the air.

The humming intensified. It was a nice feeling. Nostalgic. Like the rumble of a washing machine in the other room as it vibrated the floor boards.

But just as she went to remove her hand, she noticed something. It wasn't the door that was familiar. It was the frequency of the magic within the door that was familiar.

She pushed more magic into the grains of wood. The feeling swelled from her fingertips, shooting up her arm and into her heart.

Isn't it more beautiful to create than to destroy?

"Oh!" she couldn't help but exclaim.

And the her voice softened. "Oh… ok, I think I get it."

She knelt in front of the door. She got as close as she dared. Pressing both her hands to the gnarled wood, she felt the magic pulse through the threads. Like a slowing heartbeat. Sluggish. Exhausted.

"It's alright. You don't have to hide it from me anymore. You've done enough," she whispered. And as she spoke, she felt like there was someone else speaking those words with her. Someone who spoke with the gravitas that came with centuries of experience. It boomed old and new through the echoes of her syllables. And when she stared at the wood, she could feel… fear.

"I'll be alright," she assured it.

Then, it was like she could feel a voice. Something that whispered ever-so-faintly: But what if you aren't?

She smiled. Pressed her forehead to the door too.

"Then I'll come back here and try again. I'm resilient."

There was a snap. Then another. Then another. She scooted away from the door as a web of fluorescent green appeared in the surface of the wood. The cracks deepened. There was was a pause. And then the door exploded into a million crystalline shards of magic, glittering light green and purple. The little particles of magic didn't sting the way glass did when it shattered. They scattered, iridescent and harmless wherever they touched her skin.

In the place of the looming purple door with its living vines was a much simpler door. There were still bits of bark clinging in some spots. The door itself was lumpy. Towards the middle was a black iron handle in the shape of a cat. Red jewels served as its eyes, though they had grown cloudy and rough with age.

She grasped the handle and pushed.

Suddenly, she was sitting on a solid surface. Her legs were swinging back and forth. It felt strange to stop, so she just let them keep moving.

A fire crackled in the far corner, casting an orange glow across the floor. The windows were frosty around the edges. It was snowing outside.

As she looked around, she realized that she was inside the hut. Cramped. Slanting floors. Dried plants hanging from the rafters. Dusty glass bottles lined the many shelves squeezed into the space.

A log popped inside the fireplace. It made her jump a little.

Something else by the fire jolted too. A pile of rags stirred. The fabric fell to the side, revealing a shape that almost looked human. It opened golden eyes. Its pupils grew round before they narrowed into vertical slits. Not quite feline. Not quite human.

"You're not real," the creature hissed in an odd, garbled voice.

"Not real," she confirmed. She pointed at him. "But neither are you. This is a dream."

The creature stared at her.

"Are you all alone here?" she asked. She regretted as soon as the words left her mouth. The creature turned its face away from her.

"I'm sorry. I'm… not fully myself right now. I'm trying to find some answers," she then told it. The creature didn't move its head.

"Whatever it is, figure it out quickly and leave. But don't do it wearing her face. That's… that's not fair," it growled.

"I'm wearing her face?" Sakura repeated, tilting her head.

"You can wear any other face. The old witch's… mine… just not that one," it went on.

Dreams were unfair. In here, she could comprehend some things that eluded her in the waking world. Which was why here, she understood that this creature was alone. And that it was her fault.

"I'm sorry," was all she could think to say. She gathered the magic into her skin. She blurred her features until the creature nodded.

From her left side, she felt something tugging. She looked down at herself. Blood trickled from the same spot as always. She pressed her hand to it. It was warm. There was no pain.

"The amaranth," she suddenly said. She spotted a basket of it sitting by the fire.

The creature narrowed its eyes.

"What?" it demanded.

"That grain there," she pointed with her free hand. The blood was flowing more freely now. She tried to press her hand harder to it.

The creature's gaze flickered in that direction before it found her again.

"You should move that. Direct exposure to heat and sunlight reduces shelf life," she told him. It was just as all of her textbooks had taught her. And it was just as Madara had told her, rolling his eyes and huffing whenever she left dried herbs and berries out on her workbench.

The creature's left ear twitched. There was a notch in it.

She sucked in a deep breath as she blood began to pour out of her now. But when she looked down, she realized that it wasn't blood leaking out of her. It was transparent. Water, perhaps.

She couldn't resist the urge to bring a drop to her tongue to taste.

Brine. The smell of natural decay.

"Seawater?" she mused.

Salt water began to fill up the little hut. The creature flinched when the waves touched its body. It stared at the water, then at her. It opened its mouth to say something that was drowned out by the cacophony of a wave smashing against a rocky shore.

Sakura started when she felt something touch her shoulder. It was in the shape of a hand, but it was the coldest thing she had ever felt.

Foolish thing. Paralyzed there. He should be on his feet by now, she heard a thin voice whisper in her ear.

Then, she felt the hand pulling her through the water. Sakura forced her eyes open. Just to catch one last glimpse of the creature. The lost child waiting in that drafty little room.

He was reaching out for her. His mouth opened in words that were lost to her. For the briefest moment, his eyes were bright red, not gold. She almost felt guilty that she didn't try to reach out to him as the dream faded away. Bubbles and void were all that were left beneath her feet as the hand continued to drag her.

She was deep beneath the waves now. She forced her eyes open again. There was something glowing bright green, down in the abyss. It beckoned to her, in a way that she couldn't quite put into words. But it called out to her. The pulsing that felt like it w-

Sakura gasped as her head broke the surface of the water.

"What the- Are you alright?" she heard a voice say somewhere near her.

The water blurred her vision. All she could do was reach out. Hands grasped hers. There was a grunt. And then someone was pulling her out of the water. She scrambled onto whatever solid ground was in front of her. And then she coughed up salt water as her rescuer scrubbed her face with something.

"What were you doing down there?"

Sakura blinked to squeeze the rest of the water out of her eyes. The shapes and colors around her unblurred. It was Madara. They were sitting on one of those islands from a Saturday morning cartoon. A tiny island with just one coconut tree drifting in the middle of a vast ocean. Water lapped at her heels. The sand was warm and gritty under her.

"I…" she paused to cough. "Don't know.

She coughed some more. Madara patted her back a few times.

"I hate this," she wheezed.

When she finally managed to squint at him through the salt water and sun, Madara was grimacing.

"….Yeah," was all he said.

Sakura blinked awake. She was staring at the window. The comforter lay discarded on the floor. Her legs were tangled up in the sheets.

Somehow, without even looking, she knew that Madara was in the doorway.

"That was weird."

"Yeah. What the fuck."

She rubbed her palm against her right eyelid.

"You been doing that a lot?"

"Doing what?" she yawned. Madara didn't say anything else until she was looking at him. He stared right back, arms folded across his chest.

"Slipping through dreams. How long've you been out of control?" he questioned.

She opened her mouth to brush him off. Hesitated. Considered lying.

"Do you know when I'm lying?" she asked instead.

Madara's mouth twitched on one side.

"Fuuuuck. You do," she sighed, rubbing her face again.

Because you're my best friend. You're… my whole heart.

Sakura dropped her hand. "What'd you say?" she demanded.

Madara stared at her. His smile faded. "I didn't say anything. Are you okay?"

But you're lonely even when I'm here.

Sakura squinted. A throbbing pain started up just behind her ear. Like the thrum of an angry beehive swarming against something that shouldn't be there.

Do not give your heart away.

"Shit. Hang on."

The bed dipped by her foot as Madara sat. He grasped her hands. She hadn't even realized that they were covering her head. He wrapped his hands around the top of her head instead. He channeled his magic through the thin skin, into the capillaries that covered her skull.

"Take a deep breath."

He pulled the threads of magic, which had twisted and bunched up in all the wrong ways.

"You have to inhale. Come on."

He tugged.

The threads of energy shattered. Bright green sparks burst into the air, like tiny fireworks. The shining pieces scattered in every direction. Swirling around before they dissolved into dust and ash.

Sakura's eyes opened in time to see Madara lifting his hands from her head. She grabbed his forearms. His eyes widened.

"Did you do this to me? Or did I do this to you, Madara?" she whispered.

Madara wrenched out of her grip like she had burned him. His mouth opened and shut, like he couldn't remember how to form the words. He stumbled to his feet before he swayed his way out of the room. The door slamming shut behind him.

Sakura blinked awake.

It took her a moment to understand the shape hovering above her. It was Sasuke's unshaven chin. He looked down at her.

"She's alive, Shi. You can relax," Sasuke called. He disappeared from her view.

Sakura groaned. She rubbed her face as a yawn ripped from her mouth.

"Coffee?" asked Sasuke.

"Yeah. Thanks."

She dragged her body upright, clinging to the back of the sofa for support. The heat near her arm let her know that someone was holding a cup of coffee up for her. But years of experience had taught her that the best way to hold onto dreams was to grab hold of them as soon as she woke up.

Neon green tendrils of the dream were still clenched in her right hand. She had grabbed hold of the very fabric of the dream and torn it out. Not the most elegant solution. But it was all she had managed to do in those hectic final moments before the dream had all but shoved her out.

She held the threads up to her face to get a better look at them.

"Woah. That's not a color you see often," remarked Shisui, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa. Before she could complain about him squishing her feet, he plopped them in his lap.

Itachi peered out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth. She waved at him. He went to return the wave before his eyes settled on the bright green thing in her hand. His eyebrows rose.

"Weird," he said in a garbled voice.

"We know," she called after him as he went to rinse his mouth in the sink.

"That stuff's normally nightmare color," Shisui then observed, leaning in closer to squint.

"Wasn't a nightmare… exactly… it's…" Sakura trailed off as she tried to put her experience into words. As she struggled to come up with the words, Sasuke conjured a glass bottle into her hand. She shoved the bits of the dream into the container, sealing it on top with a fizz of extra magic. The contents swirled around, almost glittering when light hit it at the right angle.

She was suddenly struck with the memory of light glinting off of teeth. Too many eyes swiveling around to focus on her. She shivered. Then jumped when she felt something touch her arm. It was the cup of coffee still waiting for her. She grasped it with both hands. The heat was a little comforting.

"So… any new discoveries beside that one?" queried Itachi as he emerged from the bathroom.

Sakura stared down at the coffee. It was dark. She pulled the droplets of water from the rising steam, transformed them oat milk that trickled back down into the mug. As the final drop hit the surface of the drink, she watched the ripples spread to the edges.

"A fish?" she said out loud.

"What?"

A promise to go to the sea to get a fish.

I want it fresh, someone had once told her.

The thing at the bottom of the abyss. Glowing the same green as the threads of the dream sitting in the jar. The color of lightning as she ran across a grassy plain. Iridescent butterflies flooding the sky until they blocked out the strange lightning.

All neon green.

There was pain in her side again.

"I have to go home," she heard herself saying.

"Oh… uh… yeah, I'll drive you. Let me get my jacket," someone responded to her.

It was Shisui.

They were quiet on the drive back to Madara and Sakura's apartment. The sky was grey. Before she could remark that it looked like it would snow, white flakes began drifting down from the sky. They scattered across the windshield, melting as soon as they hit the glass.

Sasuke and Itachi sat in the backseat. Neither of them spoke, but she could feel the magic ping back and forth between the two of them through a linking spell.

"Am I different?" she wondered.

The silence that answered her was incredibly loud. Shisui turned on the wipers too soon. The rubber squealed as it scraped across the glass. When she glanced in the mirror, Sasuke and Itachi both refused to look at her. She could see Sasuke's reflection off the back window. He had his hand clamped across his whole mouth, as if that would hide his grimace.

She flipped the sun shade down to look at herself. Her reflection stared back at her, lower half of its face missing the skin. Her jaw was just exposed bone and shredded sinew. She yelped, slamming the mirror shut. The car jerked to the right as Shisui swore.

She was aware that Shisui was talking to her. He was probably scolding her for scaring him. The rise and fall of his syllables blurred together. She felt someone grasp her arm. Not in a demanding way. Like they were trying to steady her.

They pulled up to the narrow brownstone apartment with black window frames. The outside of it shimmered with the protection spell she had taken to casting over it every day. The fabric of it rippled, as if recognizing her magic and welcoming her home. She slipped out of the car with someone yelling her name after her. She walked, in a daze, into the place that smelled like home.

Sakura shed her coat, stepped out of her shoes. As she headed towards the kitchen, she started. Madara sat on the steps, a glass held against his temple.

She opened her mouth to nag him about drinking so early in the morning. She stopped herself. She sat next to him instead. He scooted to the side to make room for her.

They were quiet for a long time. Then, Madara was the one to break the silence first.

"Did you eat yet?"

"No."

Sakura cast him a sidelong glance. "Whiskey?" She tried not to sound judgmental.

"Apple juice. We're out of the good stuff," Madara sighed.

She stared at him until he returned her gaze. He wrinkled his nose.

"What?"

Sakura flexed her hand. Magic tingled at the tips of her fingers. She gathered the molecules together, twisting the sugars and natural bacteria in the air with heat. The drink fizzed and spun around inside the glass once before lazy bubbles began drifting up to the surface.

"Use a spell. You're magic, remember?" she said.

Madara peered into his glass. Gave it a little lick. His eyebrows rose. "Oh. Yeah. Good point," he said before taking a sip of the cider.

Sakura's mouth puckered. She tilted her head to one side, leaning in closer to Madara. He frowned at her.

"What?"

"Bad dream?" she asked.

Madara's expression darkened. He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, like he had just taken a bite of something unpleasant. Then he drained his glass before he responded.

"…Yeah… nastiest nightmare I've had in a long time," Madara told her. He puffed out a big breath.

She recalled the panic on his face. When she had whispered the question to him in the dream before tearing a piece of the nightmare off in her hand.

Did you do this to me? Or did I do this to you, Madara?

She recalled him slumped in the crooked hut.

I kept them like you asked… but you're still not here.

"Do you think I'm a bad person, Madara?" she heard herself ask.

He gave her an odd look. It had been a long time since she had called him by his name. He clasped both hands around the glass. The stair creaked under him as he shifted his weight a little.

"Nah, kid. You're the best," he told her.

"You like me?"

"'course. You're my kid."

"Even though I'm an adult?"

"Still my kid."

"What if I wasn't your kid?"

You're my best friend. You're my whole heart.

"… I don't know. Did something happen to you? Why're you talking like that?"

She was just as surprised as he was by the tears that welled up in the corners of her eyes. She sniffed.

"Aw shit. Something did happen. Don't cry, kid," Madara said. He set the glass aside to wrap his arm around her. After all these years, it was still fumbling and awkward. Like he didn't quite know where all the parts belonged.

"I'll be okay. Sorry. I'll…" Sakura tried to hold the tears in. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. The tears just spilled over harder, dripping down her wrist.

Madara didn't say anything. Probably didn't know what to say. But that was how he'd always been, she realized. He didn't make false promises that everything would be alright.

He wouldn't. Not after what we did, a single voice whispered just behind her ear. It wasn't a chorus of chattering voices now. They had gone quiet. It was just the one. Rasping and brittle.

"I'll be okay in a minute. I swear," she croaked as the tears fell faster now.

Madara's rubbed her upper arm a few times. Then tried patting it instead. Like he couldn't quite decide which one was supposed to be more comforting.

"That's okay, kid. You… do you…. Just… yeah… do your thing. It's alright."

The memories were leaking into her. The clocktower. The rubble. The sight of his little face half-obscured by blood. His shiny black nose. The crooked notch in his ear that had never grown back properly.

The words "I'm sorry" almost slipped past her lips again.

Madara finally settled on patting her shoulder a little too quickly. Her sniff turned into a laugh and then into a sob.

She said it anyway.

"I'm sorry."