Preview Chapter 33

Author’s Note: My birthday present to you! A preview! 🙂 And remember, things will be bumpy for a little while….

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Chapter 33 Preview — Inner Demons

Inoichi stood in the middle of the barn and surveyed the haggard faces of the old farmers around him. Konoha’s interrogation team was methodically working the room: two pairs of anbu interviewed the men, while two of his Yamanaka clansmen were performing the last mental scans. A lone anbu was checking the perimeter of the building for any overlooked clues. He ducked down the line of stalls, opening each door and poking at the hay. But so far, nothing conclusive had been uncovered.

Sinking his hands in his pockets, Inoichi looked up to the rafters of the building, trying to piece together everything in his mind.

Apparently after the fire at the nearby farm, the neighboring farmers had managed to find a survivor and drag him here to wait for help to arrive.

Inoichi closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling everything he could about his surroundings. The sweet hay, the tang of animal sweat…and the singed smell of the whoever was brought here, probably bound and gagged and dropped right where he stood. He shifted his feet in the straw and opened his eyes.

And those were all the facts he knew. The rest was conjecture.

They had canvassed the site looking for remains and a motive. But there were none. And the fire had burned so hot there was nothing left of the old couple that had lived there.

The neighbors who were first to arrive gave wildly varying reports. Sometimes there were many men, sometimes it was just one.

Tsunade’s hunch was that this was the work of raiders. Possibly a surveillance mission gone wrong. And Inoichi’s team was sent to uncover proof of that. Certainly the survival of an assailant and his subsequent disappearance pointed to shinobis. But the memories attached to the event were conflicting, and that was a problem.

Some farmers remembered a black-haired man being hauled into the barn. Others recalled a brown-haired man. Inoichi himself conducted the scans of the most detailed memories, trying to decipher which version was true. But unfortunately, the mental images that came forth supported their claims. Whatever they remembered, the old farmers were certain of it.

Whether it was accurate was another matter entirely.

Inoichi’s gaze roved over the interlocking beams inside the barn. His long ponytail swayed softly with the minute movements of his head.

But one memory stood out from the rest. And that still bothered him. It was different, and buried so deep that he almost missed it. Almost.

There was a blurry picture of a boy — a teen — being carried into a barn. Whether it was this barn, he knew not. Nor could he be certain it even had anything do with this situation. It might have even been from the old man’s youth. But the image was there nonetheless…a teen, bare-chested and lifeless, was hauled into a barn in the midst of a crowd of people. In the looping fragment of memory, a slant of torchlight cut across the youth. And for a moment his hair looked almost…yellow. Then the shoulders of men blocked out the view and the image faded away.

Inoichi returned to the memory a few times, but it never changed, not in the slightest. That meant that, like the rest of them, the farmer believed in what he saw.

And that gave Inoichi pause.

In his experience, if he could find a pattern in the memories, it usually pointed to the truth. No matter how disjointed the images were. And he admitted to himself that it was probably the case here as well. The majority of these men believed the attacker was dark-haired. And it was probably just an anomaly….

But he couldn’t let it go.

Because for him it wasn’t just about finding signs of infiltration from Mist as Tsunade had instructed. He was looking for someone else. A blond-haired boy, about his daughter’s age.

He shifted his feet on the dirt floor again. Could he have been here? Right where I’m standing?

Inoichi swiveled his gaze to the group around him. Old farmers and farm hands, tired and ready to go back to their lives.

Why would someone come here and tampered with their memories? What was worth that effort? And who could have done it so thoroughly, so quickly and completely that they didn’t leave a trace?

There was only one man who had the motive, and more importantly the skill. But Inoichi had been more than thorough, and he’d not detected a trace of Itachi Uchiha’s presence. At least, not the Itachi he had known. But perhaps he had learned to mask it somehow. Perhaps he should look again—

A stall door slammed and a family of roosting pigeons suddenly burst out of the rafters toward the open loft door, shattering the light in the barn for a moment.

Inoichi relaxed his hands in the pockets of his long coat. Or was he simply projecting his own desires onto the witness, then getting back a false image of something he so desperately wanted to see—

The anbu agent dashed down the row of stalls, breathless. A headband fluttered from his hand. “Sir, I just found this under the hay at the last stall. It was near the back entrance. If they brought him through there, it might have fallen—”

Inoichi took the blood-soaked, soot-stained headband and flipped it over. The silver badge was filthy and scuffed as if it had been walked over, but the proof was etched clearly in the metal. “Mist.”

It was just as Tsunade suspected.

Inoichi dropped the headband into his pocket and refocused. “Alright, that’s it. We’ve got what we came for. Let’s wrap up.”

And he let the looping image of a lifeless blond boy being dragged into a barn fade from his mind.

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The hospital door slowly creaked open. Sensing it wasn’t one of the nurses or Tsunade — who always seemed to throw back the door as if they lived there — Sasuke kept the hand curled over his face and pretended to still be asleep.

Two sets of feet shuffled in. He peered through the cracks in his fingers. Sakura’s parents. Now he was glad he had feigned sleep.

Sakura’s parents had come often those first two days. They’d looked at her prone figure, cried, lamented her choice of career to each other, thanked him — which he detested — then went away again. Sakura wasn’t aware of any of it.

He supposed this third night would be more of the same. He sunk down a little in the stiff chair, furthering his charade, and closed his eyes.

But as soon as he shut them, images splashed across his mind. The not-dead child, small and bloody in his arms. Sakura in the forest, hovering in front of him like a ghost. Then in the hospital, the way her limp hand fell off the gurney and he was sure she was dead. Sure he’d been to late again, too late to save her…or to save any of them…. Then Sakura’s face melded into a dead Uchiha’s, pale and blood-soaked and begging for his help…. But he was always too late….

Sasuke snapped open his eyes and sucked in sharp breath.

Sakura was in the bed. Her parents were there. She had lived. He blew out slowly.

Tsunade had ordered him to stay. “For observation,” she’d said. Even though he wasn’t wounded.

But he agreed. He didn’t want to leave anyway. So he had sat there, wearing the same clothes, smelling of her and covered in her blood. And he waited for Tsunade to miraculously put her back together again.

At one point Tsunade appeared in the doorway with a look of sympathy. “She’s strong. She’ll pull through,” she’d said. Even though he’d never asked.

But he guessed her medic skills must have extended to things unseen as well. She didn’t push him to change clothes or leave or get some sleep. She must have known the things even he didn’t want to admit. That he didn’t want to go to his apartment, so close to the old Uchiha compound. That he thought he was seeing things. That he didn’t want Sakura to die…alone….

But a day later, Sakura was finally brought back to the room. Tsunade was right. She had lived.

Bandaged and white, wiped clean of the blood and soot and death that she came in with, Sakura looked somewhat like herself again. Sasuke watched the rise and fall of the sheets, and somehow sleep finally claimed him.

The rest of the time was a blur of sleeping and waking, of checkups and visitors. Tsunade’s voice cut through his sleepy-fog at some point. “Do not wake him. Let him stay where he is.”

The soft whimper of her parents was another oft-heard sound. He spoke to them the first time. But after they thanked him profusely — “You protected her! You saved her! She’s taken on too much. What would we have done if you weren’t there?” — he made sure he was “sleeping” whenever they came in again.

And this third night was no different. Sasuke watched them through his fingers, standing over her, talking softly, hands clasped in parental worry—

But this time there was a response. At first just a whisper of fabric on fabric. The sheets moved with her restless legs. Then, there was a deep gasp, as if someone had finally come up for air. Sasuke’s hand fell away from his face.

Sakura was awake.

“Okasan…Otosan….” she rasped.

They leaned over her excitedly, words of care and admonishment tumbling out in a rush.

“We were so worried. The Hokage herself came to see to you. She’s a great lady, and if she wasn’t here then, I don’t…I don’t know what might have….” The mother dissolved into tears. She put her hand to her mouth to stop a sob.

Her father continued. “Daughter, how do you feel?”

Sakura slowly touched her stomach, then exhaled as if winded by even that small movement. “Very sore,” she said weakly.

“The Hokage says it will take a long time to heal. But she is certain you will make a full recovery.”

“The little girl….”

“She is fine. Banged up, but fine. She’s in another part of the hospital.” Sakura smiled tiredly. But her father’s brows furrowed. “But what were you doing out there? By yourself? You could have been—“

“If your teammate hadn’t saved you….” Her parent’s gratefully over at Sasuke.

Across the room, Sasuke stiffened. But it was no use. They knew he was awake now. He dropped his hand to his lap.

Sakura carefully turned her head. She blinked slowly. “Sasuke…. Thank you….”

He nodded once, but said nothing. He wished he didn’t see the purple under her eyes or the lingering rust of dried blood at her hairline that the nurses had missed when they cleaned her up. He selfishly wished she looked as strong as Tsunade said she was. But she didn’t. She looked frail and weak.

“Yes if it wasn’t for your friend….” Her mother’s voice broke again at the thought, but she rallied with a new though. “Now will you believe us? Can’t you see this is foolish,” she said pleadingly, eyes shining. “This shinobi business is just not for you. You nearly got yourself killed.” She shook her head resolutely. “Just stay here, work in the hospital. Where you’re safe. Where you can save others, and not the other way around—“

“But Okasan…I saved a little girl….”

“And it nearly got you killed!” A maternal firmness was creeping into her voice. This was clearly well-worn topic. “I know you want always want to save everyone Sakura, but you just can’t. What you did was too dangerous! You should have just left her there and—“

Sasuke stood suddenly. “I should go.”

Her parents turned their heads in unison, suddenly remembering someone else was there. Sakura did not look up.

“I should…. I mean, you should have some time alone your daughter.” The parents’ heaped more praise on him. Sasuke ducked under it and moved swiftly for the door, but shot a last glance at Sakura. Her smile was gone and it almost looked like a tear had streaked down her face. But it might have been a trick of the light. He didn’t stop to find out.

Finally outside the hospital, Sasuke felt like he could breathe again. Frustration was threatening to suffocate him in there. He looked up at the blackened sky with unexpected relief. Strangely the village surroundings seemed a little friendlier than they did a few days ago when felt like he was living a waking nightmare.

Now he was glad to be outside and thought for the first time that he didn’t really want to go back into the little hospital room. Even if Sakura was there.

He glanced back up at the building, picking out the light in her room. He saw the silhouettes of her parents. And especially if they were still there.

Sasuke frowned and found a dark bench to sit down and mull what he’d just witnessed.

He could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Sakura’s parents. The were civilians, doing some modest job in the village, he couldn’t remember what…. But the thought that they might not support her as a shinobi came as a shock.

If they didn’t, then did that mean she had come all this way on her own? Her shinobi work? The exams? Her apprenticeship to Tsuande? All in the face of censure?

The idea was completely foreign to him.

The hospital doors slid open. Sasuke sat back into the deeper shadows. Her parents walked out, so deep in quiet conversation they didn’t notice him, and turned towards their home.

Sasuke looked back up to Sakura’s still-glowing window and imagined here in there, alone. Again, he found himself growing irrationally angry with her parents.

How could they leave her? And how did they end that visit? Did they go happily? Give her a hug? Tell her they loved her? That they were glad she was even alive?

“They don’t even know what they have,” he muttered bitterly and turned away from the window to stare unseeing at the street.

He couldn’t remember if they’d even touched her. Sasuke folded his arms over his chest. That was the worst, he admitted to himself. When you were alone, no one ever touched you. He didn’t have it. And he knew Sai didn’t either.

He realized it had been strangely comforting to think Sakura was the normal one. That she had something they didn’t.

But maybe she had been alone all this time too. Underneath it all, maybe she was really just like them. But instead of turning to anger or isolation, she channeled her energy into her work.

He didn’t like thinking about these things. He wanted her to be healthy and stubbornly strong. Not scolded. Not weak and doubting. Not half-dead and looking like those old ghosts that were never far behind him….

Someone appeared at her window. Sasuke turned and caught sight of a nurse carrying a tray. It was dinner time. Someone was checking on her, bringing her food and folding her back into normal life. He felt less guilty about leaving her alone.

Which was good. Because he knew he really didn’t want to go in there again. Not right now anyway. He didn’t like these discoveries. And he didn’t like the thought that deep down maybe she was more like him than he cared to admit.

Sasuke stamped out the thoughts and walked back to his apartment in silence.

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Sakura sat on the bed and looked out the window. She was fully dressed, but only because it made her feel better. She still wasn’t discharged yet. Even with the daily exercises and healing therapies, she wasn’t making the progress everyone expected of her. No one had to tell her. She could see it in their faces. These were her coworkers, after all.

She didn’t care. Not really. She knew herself the real wound was to deep to be treated. She felt broken inside. And she didn’t know how she’d ever be whole again.

Tears brimmed in her eyes. The bright view of Konoha outside her window swam in front of her. She crushed her eyes shut and pushed the back on waves of regret….

“No one can know,” she told herself again. “No one can ever know.”

He was a rogue and she was a fool. But who’s was the greater betrayal? That he had lied to her the whole time? Or that she had ruined lives because of her deception? The little girl…and her poor, sweet grandparents….

Sakura twisted her hand in the sheet and swallowed a sob. She was such a fool—

A sharp rap sounded at the door. Sakura swiped at her eyes and buried her emotions.

“Come in,” she called, forcing brightness into her voice and donning a false smile to match.

Sai entered, followed by Sasuke. Sakura smiled brighter.

Sai frowned at her immediately. “Sakura-san, is this a bad time?” Sasuke looked up finally, his black eyes only darting to her face for a moment before the alighted onto something else in the room.

Anything else. As long as it wasn’t her, she thought meanly.

She shifted her focus back to Sai. “Just a hard therapy session this morning, that’s all,” she said breezily.

Sai looked at her skeptically, but didn’t push for more. He came across the room and sat in the only chair. Sasuke stood stiffly, looking like had somewhere else to be.

She hated it when he came. He always made her feel worse. Thankfully he didn’t come by very often. Usually it was either Sai or Kakashi or Ino. And only sometimes Sasuke came with them. Never alone. Thank goodness.

“Sasuke…uh, can I have the nurse bring you another chair?” Sakura said with veiled sarcasm. She knew his answer. He shook his head briskly.

She she gave her full attention back to Sai and ignored Sasuke completely.

“So, any word on your release?”

Her polite smile fell.

“Next week, they say, if I’m showing more progress.” She shrugged.

“And do you think you will?”

She shrugged again, her shoulders slumping a little more.

“When you get out, I thought maybe we could train together. Make it a regular thing….”

Sakura hitched an eyebrow up at his request. It was suspiciously like what Ino had said when she dropped by the evening before. And neither of them were “train together” sort of people. Ino didn’t want to, and she knew for a fact that Sai didn’t ‘train’ with anyone. He didn’t need to.

Another thought occurred to her.

“Sai, did Kakashi-sensei put you up to this?” Ino had vehemently denied it, even though Sakura knew she hated training. But Sai—

“Yes, of course,” he said plainly.

Sakura shook her head at his lack of social graces. She rubbed a hand over her face. Anger and exhaustion sparked somewhere inside. The last thing she wanted was pity. She’d brought this all on herself—

She was angry and tired and the last thing she wanted was pity. She had brought all this on herself.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, tilting his head and blinking and looking at her so earnestly that her anger left her.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “As long as I don’t slow you down—“

The floor nurse came to the open door. “Haruno-san, time for your afternoon meds.”

Sai stood quickly, promising they’d start next week. Sasuke was already out the door. She didn’t care. Sakura threw back the pills and gulped down the water. She’d rather be alone anyway.

But they did not start the next week. There was a setback. Some of the sutures reopened in her physical therapy, and she was back to wearing hospital clothes and having the bandages changed twice a day. And she was confined to the bed until the wound healed more sufficiently. Tsunade’s orders.

But it was worse than any of them knew. Sakura felt like she’d fallen down a well. She hated sitting in bed, she hated herself, and she told the nurses she didn’t want to see anyone else. Not until she was better. The nurses looked at her with sympathy, but they followed her wishes and put the yellow card by her name on the door with “No Visitors” written in thick black marker.

So it was a shock to hear a quiet a tap and look up to find Sasuke — and Sasuke alone — standing in the door on the fourth day of her bedrest.

It was not a surprise she welcomed. “I told them no visitors.”

“I know,” he said quietly, and walked in the room as if she’d just asked him in instead. He sat down in Sai’s chair.

Sasuke looked at her, then looked around them room as if he’d never seen it before. The silence drew out and Sakura grew irritated. If he was just going to sit there then—

“How do you feel?”

She blinked. She felt like throwing something at him. “It’s been three weeks. How do you think I feel?”

More silence stretched out between them. Her anger mounted.

“Sai and Kakashi-sensei are on a mission.”

“Oh, are they.” Bitterness laced her words. “And you didn’t go?”

Sasuke didn’t seem to even notice her ire. “No, I’m not….  That is…I uh, wasn’t on the roster.” He glanced at her once, then cut his eyes away. “You know why,” he said quietly.

Sakura stared at him, wondering why he was here. And just how had he gotten past the nurses. Another thought struck her.

“You didn’t use your sharingan on the nurses did you?!”

“No! I would never—“

“Then why are you here? ‘No visitors allowed,’” Sakura said, biting off every word and pointing to her name on the door. But the yellow card had mysteriously disappeared. She did a double-take, then frowned thunderously as if it were somehow the door’s fault. “Well, it was there. And it was on my chart—“

“The nurse told me to come. In fact, she looked at your chart and said you needed some visitors.”

Those conspiring hens at the front desk. Sakura rolled her eyes. She was sick of being doted on. And worse was that she knew deep down she didn’t deserve it. She went to fold her arms in front of her in a huff, but then remembered her injury and was forced to drop them back to her sides again, more frustrated than before.

She glared at Sasuke. But when he said nothing, Sakura decided she’d had enough.

“Well…. So, thanks for the visit,” she said, mockingly polite. “I’m still here, as you can see. So…thanks for stopping by….”

But Sasuke didn’t budge.

“Sakura, I…I came to tell you that if you need help, you know…after all this….” He waved his hand vaguely at her, looking more uncomfortable with each word. “I’m available too. You know, like what Sai said.”

Outraged fury uncorked inside Sakura. “Did Kakashi put you up to this as well!? Well thanks, but I don’t need your pity—”

“Kakashi didn’t put me up to this!” Sasuke sputtered indignantly. “I came on my own!”

“Oh right, cause we’ve always gotten along so well together. Even Sai doesn’t want to. Kakashi had to order him.” Sasuke finally looked like he always did. Mad. Which made some part of her feel better. She was sick of him walking on eggshells around her. “I don’t need your sympathy and…I don’t need your help,” she added viciously.

They glared at each other, but a sharp rap at the door broke their stalemate. Sasuke stood to answer it just as three nurses swept into the room with a rolling cart.

Sasuke backed against the wall to make room. “You’re fine where you are,” the first one said. “This will only take a moment.”

He glanced at the door like he might try to leave, but he was blocked in by the cart. So he stood there, looking ridiculous.

The last nurse chuckled. “Oh it’s not that bad. We just have to change her bandages. Have a seat.” She dropped her voice to a teasing whisper meant for Sakura to hear. “Besides, she could use the company.” But Sasuke didn’t move.

Sakura glared at all of them now. The three nurses only grinned back. So Sakura jutted her chin away from all of them, and hiked her shirt up her ribcage without a word, exposing the gauzy white bandage wrapped around her midsection.

Then all teasing ceased, and the nurses went to work. They moved around each other like a well-oiled machine.

The first nurse cut the bandage away, slowly revealing a puckered rust-colored wound across Sakura’s stomach. The second nurse inspected the wound, gently prodding the red and weeping spots where the sutures had worked free.

Biting her lip with each little stab of pain, Sakura turned her head back to the room. When the nurses moved she caught a glimpse of Sasuke, still standing against the back wall. His face was tight and he stared so hard at the ceiling it looked like he expected someone to drop through it at any moment.

Sakura watched him, her pain fading to the background.

The nurse walked back with the old bandage, one side rusty with blood and medicinal ointments. Sasuke glanced down, then looked at the ceiling even harder.

The nurse must have noticed. “Oh it’s much better than it was!”

“I know,” he said, voice tight.

Sakura thought he looked like a family member of a patient. Not a hardened shinobi—

She gasped at the sudden smear of cold across her middle. “Sorry,” the nurse in front of her said. “Should have warned you.” Her hand was slathered in a medical salve and poised over the wound.

Sakura grit her teeth for the next swipe and looked up again. This time Sasuke’s attention was fixed on her wound. The nurse moved her hand back to scoop up more of the salve and Sasuke winced. He quickly turned to the window.

Understanding crashed down on her. She’d seen it a thousand times with other patients. Sasuke didn’t like blood. That’s why he was acting so weird. And that’s why he hadn’t come.

Her view was blocked by the bustling nurses. They were finishing up, wiping everything down, then preparing for the rewrap. With one woman at either side, they wrapped a fresh length of gauzy material around Sakura’s waist, around and around, then tucked it in at the back.

“Alright, take it easy, Sakura-san,” the last nurse out said as she pushed the cart out the door. She glanced once at Sakura’s nameplate, but kept going.

Sasuke and Sakura were alone. The room was as uncomfortably quiet as it had been before. But Sakura’s anger had flown as fast as it had come on.

“Um, Sasuke?” she said haltingly. “You don’t like the sight of blood?”

He shrugged, but his slow response spoke volumes. “I guess I just saw enough of yours, that’s all.”

This time she saw through his deflection. Of course he wouldn’t, not after everything he’s been through—

Sasuke peeled himself off the wall. “I should go. Hope you feel better.” He didn’t look at her.

Guilt swamped her. Suddenly she felt like crying. What was wrong with her?

Sakura cleared her throat. “Sasuke, wait. About what I said earlier…. Maybe it could be a goal I work toward?” He looked back, perplexed. “Maybe I could train with you when I’m farther along? Like as a goal?”

Sasuke nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

“I think maybe I need something to work toward. Would that be okay?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. There was the trace of something pleasant…maybe like a smile?

“Yeah, okay.” he said, looking at her full in the face for the first time since she’d been there.

She smiled back, unsure if that was what he was doing. She’d never seen him smile.

Another wave of emotion hit her. Gratitude or sadness or guilt, she didn’t know. But tears burned at her eyes. Embarrassed, she flashed a watery smile. “Thanks.”

On of the nurses appeared at the door again with the yellow card. “Don’t know how this fell out,” she said sheepishly and affixed it to the name plate while Sasuke said a hasty goodbye and ducked out past her.

Finished, the nurse lingered in the doorway. “He’s a nice kid, your teammate.”

Sakura was so emotional she didn’t trust herself to answer. She hoped the woman would just go—

But of course she didn’t. Instead the she leaned against doorframe. “He stayed here, you know. The whole time. Until you woke up.”

Sakura shook her head. The nurse must have mixed the them up. “That was probably the other one. Sai. He’s the one with short black hair.” Although Sai didn’t seem like he’d sit around hospital rooms either—

“Nope,” the nurse said matter-of-factly, “it was this one. I remember. The Uchiha. Slept in that chair for three days.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm. “He’s a good kid.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

Shocked, Sakura folded her hands in her lap and turned to stare out the window at the overlapping roofs of Konoha. Her wound hurt. But this blow struck deeper.

Was she bound to be wrong about everything?

She swiped away the fresh tears and pushed back on her tumultuous emotions.