Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shisui and Itachi Uchiha were two of the most formidable ninja in Konoha—perhaps even the entirety of the Shinobi world. This was common knowledge to everyone, from the highest-ranking Jonin to the gossiping women in tea shops and—most frequently—the training grounds of the Academy, where every promising young ninja idolized them.

With their striking features, extraordinary powers, battlefield prowess, and enigmatic personalities, they captured the attention of everyone they encountered.

Sakura Haruno was no exception.

She had known of them for most of her life. Both had risen quickly through the Leaf Village’s shinobi ranks, propelled by a rare combination of intellect, discipline, and the power of the Sharingan.

Her awareness of Itachi came first, rooted in the innocent beginnings of a schoolgirl crush on his younger brother—Sasuke—who would later become her teammate.

Sakura’s earliest impressions of Itachi were fragmented, formed through the awe-struck whispers of classmates, the fleeting sight of him collecting Sasuke from the Academy gates, or the time he gave a genjutsu demonstration to a crowd of wide-eyed students.

She remembered the way Sasuke spoke of him. Sometimes with reverence, other times with simmering resentment. The boy wanted to surpass his brother, to earn his place out from under Itachi’s shadow.

Once she was placed on Team 7 with Sasuke, Sakura began to have the occasional interaction with the elder Uchiha. After their return from the Land of Waves, Itachi had thanked her personally, having learned from Kakashi of her efforts to protect his brother when he’d been injured. It was a brief exchange, but unforgettable. There was something about the calm in his voice that stayed with her.

There were other moments too.

Bumping shoulders with him at Sasuke’s fourteenth birthday when Naruto barreled into her, chasing after a brooding Sasuke or seeing him reclined on a hospital bed when she'd been shadowing Lady Tsunade. Poison spreading slowly through his veins from a mission gone wrong. Sakura had helped administer the antidote. He nodded to her in acknowledgement, as she cleaned the wound.

She hadn’t paid him much attention at the time. Not in the way other girls of the village did. He had simply been Sasuke’s brother, a good shinobi…and nothing more.

That changed when she was sixteen.

It happened on a dull afternoon, during one of her rotations in the Hokage’s office. Sakura stood silently off to the side while Lady Tsunade debriefed Itachi after he had returned from a routine surveillance mission. The clouds had hung low over the village that day, blanketing the Hokage Tower in a soft gray dimness until—quite suddenly—the clouds broke. Sunlight poured in through the windows, warm and golden…falling directly across Itachi’s face.

She hadn’t meant to look. Had been trying to stay focused on the reports being exchanged…but something about the way the light struck him made her breath hitch.

Until then, she’d never really seen him. Not like that. Not the way his long lashes dance across high cheekbones, or how the faint scar beneath his left eye curved downward like a brushstroke. The subtle beauty that made him striking.

She had met his mother—Mikoto—a handful of times and recognized that Itachi had inherited her delicate bone structure, just as Sasuke had.

But his expression—measured, articulate, unreadable—was all Fugaku.

In that moment, Sakura began to understand what so many others found so compelling about the man. It wasn’t just his power; it was the restraint with which he carried it.

Shisui Uchiha was a different story regarding Sakura’s encounters with him…because they were none.

Or, at least, none where he’d been conscious.

She’d heard his name, of course. Who hadn’t? Shisui of the Body Flicker. The whisper of his name alone was enough to send enemy forces into retreat. A shinobi with a Flee-on-Sight order stamped across his bingo book profile.

She had known of his exploits much the same way she learned about Itachi's.

Through the village gossip.

The pair were attached at the hip after all. An epic duo often paired together on missions due to their efficient teamwork and reputation for taking down S-ranked criminals. Sakura had also heard of their close friendship, even learning they were cousins and that Shisui had mentored Itachi for years.

His reputation preceded him. Charismatic. Playful. Unorthodox. And, according to the more scandalous gossip circulating the Jonin lounge, a bit of a womanizer.

Sakura’s best friend, Ino Yamanaka, certainly thought so.

“I’d die happy if I got stuck between those two,” she’d sighed one day over lunch, fiddling with her chopsticks as she debated which Uchiha brother was more her type. “But Shisui? Mmm. There’s just something about a man who knows how to fight and flirt.”

Sakura had rolled her eyes, pretending to ignore her. But truthfully, she had been a little curious.

The first time she ever saw the mysterious man in person, she was seventeen….and he was barely clinging to life.

It had been the middle of the night. Shisui had been brought into the hospital unconscious, his body a map of blood, broken ribs, and torn skin. A deep gash across his abdomen had nearly split him open, and poison from a rare foreign compound had already begun to shut down his body. The medics were overwhelmed.

Sakura had taken over his care.

It was strange, seeing someone so legendary laying in a hospital bed like any other man. Pale, bruised, and hooked up to multiple IV’s. Curiosity to know who—or what—had caused such damage to one so skilled fueled her working days as she oversaw his recovery.

Sakura had hovered impatiently by his side for days, checking vitals, changing bandages, muttering small encouragements under her breath as if he could hear. Hoping she may get the answers to her questions one day.

Shisui remained in a coma for nearly a month. She monitored every stage of his recovery. And yet, the day he finally woke up, she wasn’t there.

Team 7 had been sent on a two-week mission deep into the Land of Fire. By the time she returned, he was already gone. Discharged by Shizune a few days after regaining consciousness.

She had walked into the hospital the next morning after her return only to learn of his departure. The disappointment had stung. A lot. Unreasonably so. She’d stood at her desk for a long moment, fingers still curled around a pen, before letting out a slow sigh and getting back to her paperwork that had piled up in her absence.

He had come and gone like the wind, and she’d never even got to say hello.

But the mystery lingered in her mind.

She wondered what kind of enemy could injure a man like that. Wondered what it had taken to bring down someone who could strike and vanish in a blink before the body even hit the ground. Wondered what his voice sounded like. If he smiled when he talked…

The answers wouldn’t come for another two years.

Life continued. Missions. Friendships. Long shifts at the hospital. Occasional sparring sessions with Team 7. Research assignments under Tsunade’s supervision. And for a brief, misguided month…knitting.

Hinata had shown her the basics, and she’d made a few tea cozies and socks before wanting to shove her head through a wall. The predictability of the craft nearly drove her insane. Looking over a pair of half-knit gloves made her realize she missed the chaos of the emergency room. Which is something Sakura never thought she would find herself saying.

It was only a few months before her twentieth birthday that everything changed.

She received a summons in the early hours of the morning. A high-level briefing. Classified assignment. Tsunade’s familiar handwriting was scrawled across the pages.

The mission would alter the course of her life, forever.

Sakura Haruno—Jonin, medic-nin, and apprentice to the Fifth Hokage—walked the ever-familiar halls of the Hokage’s Tower with practiced ease. Her boots struck softly against the wooden floors; her strides measured. She passed under the towering banners of the founding clans. Each tapestry hung like a silent sentinel, bearing witness to the village’s legacy.

Old photographs and commemorative plaques lined the walls, immortalizing generations of heroes. Hashirama Senju’s craftsmanship still held strong in the grain of the wood beneath her feet, a reminder that peace, no matter how long ago it was born, was always forged through power.

She came to a halt in front of the Hokage’s office door, where two masked ANBU she knew as Crane and Beetle, stood on either side like immovable statues. Sakura nodded to them in greeting, receiving a small dip of their heads in return. From behind the heavy wooden door came the unmistakable sound of Lady Tsunade’s voice. Harsh, raised, and unmistakably pissed.

Sakura sighed and leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing her arms. She was used to this. As Tsunade’s apprentice, she had a certain level of access, yes, but it only went so far. Whoever was in there now outranked her in priority, and protocol was still protocol.

Her thoughts drifted.

Had she filed that last batch of reports before being summoned? She was pretty sure she had—right after finishing inventory in the east wing. She’d slid the stack into the cabinet near the—

The office door swung open abruptly, and Sakura snapped to attention. Emerging from the room was none other than Danzo Shimura. Dressed in his standard black and gray robes, his right arm remained hidden beneath thick bandages, and his eye—his only visible eye—fixed on her coldly.

It wasn’t a look of interest. More like contempt. The way one might glance at a bug they were debating whether or not to squash.

Sakura held his gaze, her jaw tight, but said nothing. Danzo gave a scoff under his breath and turned on his heel, his cane tapping with each step as he disappeared down the corridor.

“Sakura, get in here!” Tsunade’s voice barked through the open doorway, loud enough that Sakura wouldn’t have been surprised if it rattled the frame.

Sakura quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind her, crossing the room and slipping into one of the rigid chairs across from the Hokage’s desk. The tension in the room was thick, like an electrical charge before a storm.

She arched a brow, wearily curious. “What was his problem?”

Tsunade, who was seated behind a clutter of open scrolls and an already half-empty sake glass, massaged her temples with an air of pure frustration.

“You.”

“…Me?” Sakura asked, caught off guard.

“Yes, you,” Tsunade said flatly, not even looking up. “You and your—how did he put it….inadequacies.”

Sakura blinked. “What?”

Tsunade finally looked her square in the eye, her gaze stormy. “Danzo just spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince me to pull you from the mission. Wanted to replace you with his own operatives.”

“What- why?” Sakura demanded, sitting up straighter.

“Claims you don’t have enough field experience to justify your role. Said you’re too green for the level of discretion this mission demands. That he doesn’t trust your judgment.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sakura snapped. “I’ve led over fifty missions, A and S-ranks, handled frontline trauma under fire, and I have the Hundred Healings Seal! How does that not qualify me?”

Tsunade let out a dark laugh and slammed her fist down on the desk—hard enough to send one of the empty sake bottles she had already finished, wobbling close to the edge. The wood groaned under the impact, a crack forming across its lacquered surface.

“Trust me,” Tsunade growled, “I know that. You’re my best medic, and one of the only people I’d send on this mission in the first place. But Danzo doesn’t care about competence, he cares about control. And right now, he wants his claws in this operation.”

Sakura frowned, gaze drifting toward the window where Tsunade now stood, arms folded, staring out at the rooftops of Konoha with narrowed eyes.

“Why?” she asked. “What does he want so badly?”

Tsunade’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Silence settled between them. Outside, the distant sound of wind rustling through trees hummed softly through the open window. Sakura’s eyes flicked to the brown folder on the desk. Thick, sealed, and unmarked save for a red wax insignia of the Leaf Village burned into the flap.

She reached out and pulled it toward her.

MISSION FILE

CONFIDENTIAL – FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Hokage's Office, Hidden Leaf Village

Mission #: 602890-QL

Classification: Top Secret

Rank: S

Type: Intelligence Gathering & Threat Assessment

Assigned Personnel:

1. Captain [REDACTED] — ANBU Black Ops, Codename [REDACTED]
2. [REDACTED] — ANBU Black Ops, Codename [REDACTED]
3. Medic [REDACTED] — ANBU Black Ops, Codename [REDACTED]
4. [REDACTED] — ANBU Black Ops, Codename [REDACTED]

Mission Objective:

To retrieve classified intelligence concerning the movements and operations of the [REDACTED], a rogue organization operating beyond the Land of Fire’s borders.

Primary Priorities Include:

• Identification and confirmation of all known and suspected bases of operation
• Interception and documentation of black-market activity and funding trails
• Positive identification of key organization members and known affiliates
• Extraction of any information or intelligence the targets may possess pertaining to the [REDACTED]

Secondary Protocol:

Any evidence or whisper of intelligence involving the Hidden Leaf Village, its affiliated shinobi, or political partners must be reported immediately and directly to the office of the Hokage. Even minor or seemingly irrelevant details must be documented and delivered without delay.

Operational Guidelines:

• This mission is covert. No insignia, clan identifiers, or traceable chakra patterns are to be used in the field.
• All team members are to operate under false identities with scrubbed chakra signatures.
• All communication will be handled through secured, pre-designated relay points only.

Engagement Protocol:

Under no circumstances are personnel to initiate or accept combat with enemy targets. This mission is surveillance only. Discovery or engagement will compromise not only the mission but ongoing intelligence operations. If cornered, evade, eliminate with lethal force, or fall back to fallback Point Crystal Flower-J200.

Authorization:

Signed and sealed by Fifth Hokage Tsunade Senju

  X 𝒯𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒿𝓊

Date: [REDACTED]

Sakura’s mind raced, heart thudding steadily against her ribs as her eyes scanned the top of the first document.

S-Ranked Mission.

That part, at least, wasn’t new. She’d completed several by now—brutal, bloody things that stretched her resolve and chakra reserves to the limit. Missions where the chance of returning home whole—physically or mentally—was never guaranteed.

Still, she reminded herself, you’ve done this before.

She had helped take down Sasori of the Red Sand without the Hundred Healings mark. She was stronger now. More experienced. The mark pulsing faintly on the center of her forehead as it constantly funneled portions of her chakra into it, was proof of that.

Even so, her fingers twitched slightly against the edges of the parchment. This wasn’t just any S-rank. It was an ANBU-level operation.

And those were never assigned lightly.

Her stomach turned.

ANBU squads were dispatched for missions where failure wasn’t an option. Where death was more common than successful intel reports and clean exits. For Tsunade to override Danzo and choose her, of all people, to pick up their trail…

Something had gone terribly wrong.

She peered back down at the document. Page after page of redacted names, blurred mission codes, and redacted affiliations. The information was gutted—sterile, cold, scrubbed of any real substance. She was going in half-blind.

A chill rippled down her spine.

Her eyes skimmed again across the mission objectives: infiltration, black-market surveillance, finding sensitive intel. Vague, yet critical.

What organization could demand this level of secrecy?

Her mind began sorting through possibilities.

It likely wasn’t the Grey Hornets. They had been mostly eradicated the year prior, after their leadership collapsed under internal strife. Orochimaru had long since severed his ties with their remnants once their human trafficking ring had been dismantled. With their influence broken and their networks reduced to petty in-fighting, they no longer posed a threat worthy of ANBU attention.

Necrosis, maybe?

The name surfaced uneasily in her mind.

A sprawling, necrotic cancer of an organization that had emerged in whispers across the Great Nations. Known for trafficking illegal body parts, and the production of synthetic chakra suppressants known as Chakra Disruptors. They were looters, grave robbers, and alchemists of pain. Sakura remembered the Jonin chattering just months ago. Rumors of Necrosis threatening to desecrate the Hyuga clan’s tombs, attempting to harvest Byakugan for the black market.

They were the very reason cremation had seen such a drastic rise in Konoha in recent years.

Still…

Sakura bit the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowing. Even Necrosis wouldn’t warrant this many redactions. They were dangerous, yes, but not to this level. If it had been them, the document would say so plainly, if only as a warning to proceed with caution.

Her eyes drifted once more to the final line at the bottom of the mission brief.

Under no circumstances are personnel to initiate or accept combat with enemy targets.

A warning that clear—and that final—meant only one thing.

Her throat tightened. A cold weight settled in her chest.

There was only one organization dangerous enough to inspire that level of dread. One whose very name had become a whispered curse during her early years as a Genin. One she hadn’t heard mentioned in over four years, not since their numbers had seemingly disappeared like smoke on the wind.

The Akatsuki.

She flipped through the remaining pages of the folder with urgency, breath caught somewhere between her ribs.

Confidential Mission Log

Mission #602890-QL

Status: Ongoing

Classification: S-Rank

Compiled Reports from Squad [REDACTED]

Report: 03/23

Captain [REDACTED] reports their engagement with civilians in a small farming village bordering River Country, known as Chisana. When going undercover and inquiring about their ‘companions’ they had lost after a supposed freak storm, a local barkeep with whom they spoke confirmed seeing two cloaked individuals—matching descriptions of known [REDACTED] members—passing through roughly a week prior.

The barkeep stated they had asked for a man named Yasuo, a recluse residing on the village outskirts.

Upon locating Yasuo’s residence, Squad [REDACTED] discovered his mutilated corpse suspended from the interior wall. A symbol drawn in blood was found on the floor beneath him.

Reconstruction attached: Symbol confirmed as related to the cult of Jashin.

Further search of the premises yielded no significant findings. Captain [REDACTED] concluded that the deceased had possessed knowledge known only to him—information likely that had no physical form. Squad [REDACTED] will continue their sweep along the Fire Country border. If no additional leads surface, they will proceed to rendezvous with [REDACTED] in Wind Country.

Report: 04/12

Squad [REDACTED] successfully rendezvoused with [REDACTED] in Wind Country. Progress has been limited.

[REDACTED] confirms the vast, desolate terrain of Wind has severely hindered tracking efforts. Squad [REDACTED] will assist in a grid-style reconnaissance moving forward.

Following instructions from the Hokage regarding the Jashin symbol, no confirmed link has been established between the religious cult and the [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] also confirms no direct encounters with the cult, though they have intercepted rumors of similar ritualistic killings near the Land of Hot Water during their travels.

Captain [REDACTED] proposes investigating the cult’s known territories should efforts in Wind yield no results. [REDACTED] has agreed. The combined squad will depart west from Sunagakure at first light.

Report: 05/09

Search in Wind Country revealed minimal evidence of [REDACTED] movements—until two days prior, when [REDACTED] returned with confirmation of an attack mirroring Yasuo’s from Chisana village.

An incident occurred along the border between Wind and Earth Country. In response, Captain [REDACTED] authorized a bifurcation of efforts:

• [REDACTED] will investigate the city affected by the latest attack.
• Squad [REDACTED] will proceed to the Land of Hot Water to research the cult known as the Way of Jashin.

Objective: Establish the connection, if any, between the cult and [REDACTED], and assess risks based on enemy capabilities and ideology.

Report: 05/31

Squad [REDACTED] successfully infiltrated a hidden Jashinist enclave. During the operation, squad member [REDACTED] abducted a cult preacher known to perform blood rituals associated with Jashinism.

Under interrogation by Medic [REDACTED], utilizing [REDACTED] technique, the following intelligence was extracted:

• A known [REDACTED] operative, confirmed as Hidan, is a former shinobi from the Land of Hot Water and now an S-rank missing-nin.
• His technique requires two specific conditions:

1. Creation of a Jashin insignia on the ground using his own blood, which he must remain within.
2. Ingestion of his victim’s blood. Upon activation, his body turns black with bone-white marking resembling a skeleton. This transformation links him to his victim, allowing any damage he sustains to be mirrored upon them.

Squad [REDACTED] has transmitted this intel to [REDACTED] stationed in Earth Country. Awaiting response.

Jashinist sect infiltrated has been neutralized. Squad [REDACTED] will continue toward the designated rendezvous.

Report: 06/08

A message has been received from [REDACTED], requesting immediate rendezvous at the outskirts of the Hidden Rain Village. According to [REDACTED], a new lead suggests the [REDACTED] may have originated within Rain following the last Shinobi War.

Due to Rain’s long-standing seclusion, Captain [REDACTED] considers this lead viable. Squad [REDACTED] has adjusted course to intercept [REDACTED] at the specified coordinates.

Report: 06/16

En route through Fire Country to Hidden Rain, Squad [REDACTED] was ambushed by [REDACTED] operatives Hidan and Kakuzu.

Intel provided by the enemies suggests the pair had been tracking the squad since their incursion into Hot Water territory—likely informed by a surviving cult member from the destroyed sect.

Casualties sustained:

• Squad Medic [REDACTED] – Killed in Action
• Squad member [REDACTED] – Killed in Action

During the engagement:

• Squad member [REDACTED] dismembered Hidan, entombing him in a makeshift grave. Attempts to kill him entirely were unsuccessful.
• Kakuzu demonstrated use of immortality via a technique involving heart extraction and preservation, encasing each heart within grotesque masked constructs controlled by tentacle-like grey tendrils.
• Each masked puppet appears to wield a unique elemental chakra nature, confirming multi-nature use.
• Captain [REDACTED] succeeded in destroying four of Kakuzu’s masked hearts, but sustained critical injuries in the process. Captain [REDACTED] later collapsed, revealing an undisclosed pre-existing condition exacerbated by extensive use of chakra abilities.

With no medic present, Squad member [REDACTED] relocated the captain and themselves to a fallback position approximately 5 kilometers east of the encounter site. Current status: critical, but stable.

As such, Squad member [REDACTED] has assumed interim command and requests immediate medical assistance.

MISSION #602890-QL remains active.

Enemy status: HIGH-RISK. Known operatives possess immortality, forbidden jutsu, and multiple chakra affinities.

Engagement protocol remains: AVOID DIRECT CONFLICT IF POSSIBLE.

Sakura’s throat felt dry as she finished scanning the final report. Her hands, steady from years of surgical discipline, tightened slightly around the paper.

There was no mistaking it now.

The organization the squad had been tracking—so heavily redacted, so ruthlessly efficient, so horrifying in their tactics—was the Akatsuki.

She drew her fingertip slowly across the coordinates listed at the bottom of the last log, committing them to memory. If her mental map was right, the location lay just shy of the Fire Country border. Isolated terrain, dense forest and cliffs. It would be at least a three-day journey at standard pace. She could make it in a day and a half, maybe less, if she pushed herself hard.

But she’d arrive exhausted.

And exhaustion was a weakness she couldn’t afford to have, not when she might be walking into an encounter with immortal enemies.

What choice would she truly have, though? This mission was a ticking time bomb. The request for assistance was sent that very same day. Who knows what condition those ANBU were in! They could very well be dead already, especially if their opponents had returned. She would have to push herself and take the risk. Lives were at stake.  

Tsunade’s voice cut clean through her spiraling thoughts like a scalpel.

“Do you see why I’m concerned Danzo wants his dogs sniffing around this?”

Sakura blinked hard, grounding herself back in the room. She cleared her throat.“...Yes. These are serious circumstances.”

The Hokage gave a sharp nod, the leather of her chair creaked faintly as she reclined. Her gaze was heavy, but not unkind.

“You’ve figured out who they are, haven’t you?” she asked. “I’m sending you into the aftermath of their last known sighting. There’s a real possibility one or more of the group may return to retrieve their partner—or worse, retaliate. If you don’t stabilize the wounded quickly enough, Sakura…” Her voice dipped. “There won’t be anyone left to save.”

Their eyes met. Brown and green. Mentor and apprentice. Warrior and healer.

Tsunade’s gaze flicked upward to the mark above Sakura’s brow. The purple rhombus, the sign of the Hundred Healings. A mark Tsunade herself bore. A symbol of great strength.

Sakura caught the shift and responded before her mentor could speak.

“I managed to kill one before I had this.” Her voice was steady. Confident. “Sasori of the Red Sand. And I didn’t even have the seal then.”

“With help.” Tsunade replied smoothly, a brow lifting.

Sakura’s brows furrowed. “Are you doubting me, m’lady?”

“Never.” The word landed like a stone. Firm. Undeniable.

It caught Sakura off-guard, filling her with warmth and something sharper: pride.

“Then what are you getting at here?” she asked quietly.

Tsunade exhaled heavily, rubbing her temples. “Danzo is weaving something dangerous, and I think this mission just became a part of it. I’ve had him watched more closely the past few months. He’s using the Elders. Swaying votes. Keeping tabs on certain shinobi—including you.”

Sakura gestured at the mission documents, her jaw clenched as she flipped through the pages again, piecing it all together. “All those redactions? Him.”

Tsunade gave a curt and tired nod, a pitcher in hand as she filled her sake glass once more.

“Why?” Sakura asked, blatant frustration etching itself onto her fine features. “What does he gain from keeping me in the dark?”

“I’ve no definitive answer. He is good at covering his deceptions. He told the council it was for your protection. That ‘too much sensitive intel’ exposed might compromise the mission. ‘Better safe than sorry,’ ” Tsunade spat the phrase like it tasted foul. “And, of course, he insisted on sending two of his most loyal dogs along as your escorts. Claimed it was to ensure mission success. I suspect if I had refused, they’d have followed you anyway.”

Sakura frowned deeply. That was going to be a problem.

It was already hard enough working under high-stakes pressure…add two surveillance-happy Root operatives with loyalty only to Danzo, and this mission just became a minefield.

She almost muttered something about how punching them might be a justified occupational hazard but—wisely—bit her tongue.

“Be careful,” Tsunade warned, her voice low now, all steel and no sake. “They’ll report back everything. If you get the chance, inform the other two Anbu on your squad of Danzo’s involvement, subtly. I don’t think they trust him either, and if things go south, you’ll need allies.”

Sakura nodded. Her spine straightened with renewed resolve as she rose to her feet and bowed low.

“Here.” Tsunade held out a fresh document, sealed and marked. “Your full parameters. Departure is immediate. Your escorts will meet you at the village gates in twenty minutes.”

Sakura took the scroll with a firm grip, their eyes meeting once more.

Tsunade’s gaze was tired, her legendary strength weathered by politics more than war, but beneath it still raged a fierce fire. One that had forged Sakura into the kunoichi she was today.

Sakura responded with the only thing she could: a look of unwavering determination.

Without another word, she pivoted on her heel and strode toward the door, mission scroll in hand.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting, spilling molten gold and burnt orange across the sky, dyeing the treetops with fire as it dipped behind the horizon. Spring, as it bloomed into summer, in the Land of Fire was always beautiful. Verdant and alive, brimming with wildflowers and warm air—but in that final hour of light, it became something else entirely. Sacred.

Sakura Haruno surged forward, feet touching only briefly on the bark of each tree before propelling herself toward the next. Her chakra control kept her movements smooth and silent, the forest rushing past in a blur of green and amber.

Behind her, like shadows clinging to her heels, followed her two...charming traveling companions.

Not that either of them had tried to speak since they’d left the Hidden Leaf nearly seven hours ago.

They'd departed shortly after noon. Sakura had rushed home to grab the essentials: scrolls containing her herbs, poisons, antidotes, and emergency elixirs. A couple of kunai she’d sharpened the day before, enough ration packs for several days in the field; and another scroll packed with blankets, salves, medical supplies, and a spare set of mission gear…just in case. The Hundred Healings seal gave her stamina and strength, but experience taught her that a shinobi unprepared didn’t get a second chance.

At the west gate, she’d been greeted by two eerily still Root operatives—already waiting, faceless under expressionless masks. Even for Anbu, they were unnervingly silent. No casual posture. No nod of greeting. They stood as though someone had carved them out of stone and left them there to watch the wind.

Sakura had offered a polite introduction. “I’m Sakura Haruno, medical Jonin, here for the retrieval mission to sector—”

Blank stares.

She had gone over the mission summary, clear and concise. Still nothing.

When she asked for their codenames—standard protocol even among Anbu—neither offered a word.

Fine, she’d thought bitterly. If they won’t give me names, I’ll give them some myself.

The one in the frog mask became Froggy.

The one in the fox mask had also been named after his likeness. Foxy. However, that changed when they stopped for lunch. Sakura had been gracious enough to offer him a snack. He accepted her offer of food, then having the audacity to not say thank you while snatching it from her hands. He was promptly dubbed Dipshit.

Now, hours into their trek, the silence continued.

Sakura was almost grateful for it. Missions with strangers often led to awkward, forced small talk. Considering these two clearly didn’t understand the basics of human decency, she had no desire to hear whatever passed for conversation under their masks. Still, the quiet was oppressive. Their silence wasn’t the kind born of comfort—it was the silence of surveillance. Of cold calculation. She could feel their eyes on her constantly, cataloging her movements.

It was...suffocating.

Much of Root's inner workings were shrouded in secrecy. Even among the village elite, information on them was restricted, locked up tight behind intricate seals and big, red CONFIDENTIAL stamps. They were technically a subdivision of the Anbu: Black Ops, but operated under their own chain of command. Danzo’s command, to be exact.

What the public knew was little: that Root operatives were trained to specially trained warriors used primarily for assassinations and espionage. The official line was that they existed to “protect the Leaf from the shadows.”

What Sakura knew—what every shinobi who paid attention knew—was that Root was Danzo’s personal army. A force of masked ghosts shaped by paranoia and the idea that loyalty was worth more than morality. That silence was safer than truth.

And now she had two of them trailing her every move.

Sakura sighed through her nose, resisting the urge to shake them off like insects. Keep it together.

She wasn’t here to make friends…or enemies. Just to save lives. If there was still anyone left to save, that is.

A gust of warm spring wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves and tousling a few loose strands of pink hair around her cheeks. The weight of her pack, her supplies, the mission scroll hidden in her vest—it all felt heavier now. Not physically. Emotionally.

She had worked too hard to be underestimated by cowards in masks or old, conniving men who hadn’t been on the battlefield in decades.

Glancing toward the fading sun, Sakura allowed herself a brief moment of nostalgia. She had run these forests so many times before—on missions, during training, racing after her teammates when they were still just kids trying to carve out their places in the world. There was something painfully poetic about how often her life circled back to this same route. This same country. This same fight.

But she wasn’t a child anymore.

Not a tag-a-long kunoichi chasing after stronger boys.

She was a medical Jonin, trained by a legendary Sannin, bearing the Hundred Healings mark, and this time—this time—the lives on the line would depend on her alone.

She caught a glimpse of Dipshit moving ahead in her peripheral vision, likely scouting the path. Froggy kept to her rear, just barely close enough to protect her flank if needed.

They hadn’t said a word. Not even to each other.

Creepy. But manageable.

Sakura’s jaw tightened. Whatever this mission threw at her—Akatsuki, cultists, Root operatives with attitude problems—she’d handle it.

She always did.

The journey to the western border of Fire Country felt long and uneventful, but Sakura’s mind was anything but idle. With every stop to rest, she’d review her medical supplies mentally, as well as the details from the mission report. Her focus always seemed to return to the squad she’d be assisting.

From the mission reports, it was clear the squad captain was hiding an illness. An oddity in itself, but not the most interesting detail. What caught her attention was how the condition worsened after a particularly grueling battle and the overuse of the captain’s abilities. There was also the mention of Kakuzu having the speed and perception to match a Sharingan user, which piqued her curiosity.

Could the captain be an Uchiha? It was possible. The Uchiha clan had long been a fixture in the Anbu, their powerful dojutsu invaluable in the field.

Sakura pondered if the captain’s illness could be related to the Sharingan. She had seen firsthand the toll it took on the body, having treated several Uchiha over the years. Kakashi-sensei, for example, had collapsed from overuse more than once. It wasn’t unlikely that the captain’s illness was tied to the strain of using such an ability.

But the report also suggested the illness could be something entirely different. A regular disease made worse by the stress of combat. Whatever the case, she

would soon find out.

Sakura checked the coordinates once again, and after some quick math, realized they were roughly two hours from their destination. When she informed her two silent escorts, they simply stared back at her, expressionless. Biting back her frustration, she reminded them to be cautious. “Enemies could still be nearby.”

The only sign they were listening came from the faint shift in their chakra signatures, each dulling until they were nearly imperceptible.

The sun began its descent as they neared their destination, the light softening and casting long shadows across the land. They were on the side of a mountain, walking down a nearly forgotten dirt road. It snaked downward, leading into a valley. Sakura had a feeling that whatever awaited them there would be tied to her patients.

They walked in silence, with her occasionally glancing at the two Root agents trailing behind her. Their lack of questions and blank stares unsettled her. Why had Danzo chosen them for this mission?

She didn’t trust Danzo…not one bit. The way he openly opposed Lady Tsunade made her skin crawl.

And if the Akatsuki had attacked the original Anbu squad...

She shuddered at the thought. It only made her more wary of the Root agents behind her. She felt like she was prey being surrounded by predators.

Still, the reality of their situation remained. If an enemy was lurking nearby, she’d need backup. No matter how much she distrusted these two, Sakura wasn’t willing to risk anything at this point. Especially this far from the village. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

Soon, they reached the final bend in the road and encountered a large stone wall that could only be described as a ruin. A broken gate, much like the ones you would see in the Leaf village, loomed before them. One of the massive doors lay half-buried in the dirt. She started forward, cautiously treading her way through the dilapidated arch that—at one point—would’ve kept out intruders like her. Not anymore.

The village beyond looked abandoned. The buildings were old, some made of stone, others of wood, overtaken by vines and weeds. Nature had claimed this place long ago.

There were no signs of a recent battle. No destruction, no blood, no bodies in sight. That was a good news, at least.

“Stay alert,” Sakura murmured as they began to navigate the village. It didn’t take long to notice that the air felt heavy here, almost oppressive. Silence surrounded them, broken only by the soft rustle of wind. It was an eerie stillness; the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Froggy and Dipshit must have felt it too, as both had unsheathed their swords, clearly on edge. Sakura’s senses were heightened, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The chakra in this place felt...empty.

Normally, the earth pulsed with chakra, but here, there was nothing. The desolation in the air sent a chill through her.

Sakura stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. and closed her eyes, concentrating. Closing her eyes, she furrowed her face in concentration as she allowed herself to unmask her chakra, sending small chakra pulses out around her.

Froggy and Dipshit both turned their heads towards her in what seemed like alarm. If there was any sensible time for either of them to speak up, it would be right now as she made herself a walking target.

But she knew what she was doing. Drawing attention to herself by blasting her chakra signature like a beacon. Any sensory ninja worth their headband would be able to sense her. She just needed to know if her hunch was right…

She heard Froggy bristle anxiously to her left but chose to ignore him. Keeping her attention on the chakra pulses as the details from them came swiftly back to her.

Discomfort set in causing Sakura to suck in a terrified breath.

She couldn’t sense anything.

Not an animal, not a bird, not even a damn insect in the ground. Even the usual thrumming of Nature Energy one might tune into if they focused hard enough was unusually absent.  

“This place…” Sakura murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s wrong. Very wrong.”

As if on cue, a voice called out from behind her.

“You noticed that too, huh?”

She spun around, crouching into a fighting stance before she had the chance to think, Sakura’s gaze turned to find a tall man dressed in Leaf Village Anbu gear scarcely three yards away. She nearly sighed with relief and lowered her fist, realizing this must be one of the squad she’d been sent to help.

She wasn’t the only one who had been spooked by the man’s sudden appearance. Next to her, Froggy and Dipshit lowered their sword’s and eased their bodies out of their rigid stances.

Sakura looked the man over wearily. His clothes were tattered and had evidence of drying blood. The mask he wore was painted with the image of a ferocious cat. Not a house cat, perhaps something like a panther? The image of it was chipped in places. It wasn’t hard to tell he had recently seen quite the conflict.

“Are you the one who requested help?” Sakura asked cautiously, keeping her question vague as to not reveal her identity just yet. Even with the obviously pink hair and purple seal stamped in the middle of her forehead, there was a chance an imposter wouldn’t know who she was.

“Codename Jaguar, Squad Mamoru of the Hidden Leaf Village. Mission number 602890-QL. And you’re Haruno, the Hokage’s apprentice, right?”

Sakura let a small smile drift onto her face. “Yes, I am. I was dispatched with my escorts here at your request for aid.”

“Thank you for coming. Follow me.” Jaguar turned and began leading them down winding streets. He took long strides and was swift on his feet. Even with his enhanced agility, Sakura took notice of the limp in his stride.

Sakura caught up to him quickly. “What caused the limp in your left leg?”

She heard a small exhale as they turned a corner. “How much clearance do you have for this mission?”

“Enough to know you fought S-rank criminals Hidan and Kakuzu. But, not enough to know what organization they are from.”

The man nodded as they came to a stop in front of a two-story building. Unlike the others in the village, this one seemed mostly intact. “One of Kakuzu’s masked puppets hit me with a wind style jutsu while I was still fighting Hidan. I injured my knee and hip after getting blasted into the side of a mountain while trying to avoid Hidan’s scythe.”

Sakura nodded and let her eyes roam Jaguar’s form. Most of the damage to his gear appeared to be on the left side so that checked out. Her eyes snapped back up from her examinations when she noticed Jaguar’s stance tense. His head was turned towards Froggy and Dipshit.

Tension filled the air as he spoke, “Root?”

Neither of the agents answered his question which made the Anbu operative turn to face them fully, Sakura noticed his body had shifted to block the door.

Thank goodness someone else distrusted them, too. But right now was not the time to pick fights and she knew it.

“They don’t speak much,” or at all ”, requested by Lord Danzo to accompany me on this mission and approved by Lady Fifth.”

Jaguar’s masked face shifted to look at her once more and she silently begged he got the message she was trying to telepathically communicate to him. I don’t trust them either but more importantly, you have an injured comrade that needs help.

Whether or not she had somehow managed a Yamanaka clan secret in that moment, she would never know. Either way, Jaguar swiveled in the opposite direction, heading inside the structure and leading the group into the decrepit building.

The smell of the house hit her like a brick wall. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and decay. Choking, it made Sakura yearn for the sweet, spring air that had filled her lungs mere moments before.

The house had clearly been abandoned for years, the walls cracked, and the floor littered with debris. They traversed down a hallway, past what used to be a sitting room, then kitchen. Some floorboards were missing while yellow paint that had once decorated the walls was now peeling or covered in mysterious stains.

While walking up the flight of stairs that groaned in protest under their feet, Jaguar began to explain his teammates condition. “He’s been out of it for days. Fever, cold sweats, coughing up blood. He hasn’t been awake or coherent long enough for me to ask if he knows what the disease is. I’ve taken care of him as best I can, but my medical knowledge stops at healing basic wounds.”

It wasn’t uncommon for shinobi to be taught the basics of medical treatment. How to bandage wounds, stop the bleeding of major arteries and basic antidotes for poisons plus how to recognize them. However, unless you were a medic or sought out to learn it yourself, your training stopped there.

Jaguar led them to the room at the end of the hall, opening the door to display the silhouette laying on a bedroll. Sakura could already hear the labored breathing…the room reeked of sweat and sickness.

The sun had set behind the mountain outside now, casting the village into near complete darkness. This caused the house to be encased in gloom. Sakura pushed past the sickening odor and b-lined for the figure on the floor, kneeling next to him.

“Light, please.” she said, as she rummaged through her bag for her storage scrolls.

She took note of the Root operatives settling themselves against the opposite wall while Jaguar started striking matches to light a lantern. Good, at least they knew to keep out of the way while a medic worked.

Soon, light filled her surroundings, and she could see her storage scrolls more clearly. Sakura ran her eyes over the kanji symbols and found the one she was looking for. Doing the signs to release it, her medicinal pouch popped out with a soft puff of smoke. Unravelling it and turning to her patient, she stopped dead in her tracks as she was met with the sight of one Itachi Uchiha.

His eyebrows were pinched together in pain, sweat beading down his brow. He was blanched nearly white, paler than she could ever recall him being. Her hands immediately reached out to his chest in urgency. She concentrated and tuned out the world, letting her chakra roam through his body.

It started from his midriff. The first thing she noted was his chakra levels were low, not replenishing due to his system trying to heal him. It was like a never-ending loop. The more ill he became; the more chakra his body used to try and cure the sickness.

Secondly, his lungs were…well, fucked. There was no medical terminology she could recall in that moment to explain it better. There was fluid buildup in the chest, blood clots surrounding the lung tissue and-

Sakura’s eyes shot open; her gaze turned to look at the young man’s anguished face.

There were cancer cells in his lungs. A lot of them. So many in fact that it’s likely Itachi had left this untreated for years.

She closed her eyes tightly and probed around his rib cage a bit more, mapping out a plan in her head.

She’d need to start by draining the fluid. Once that was out of the way, she would need to get his fever under control before she could operate on the blood clots causing the blood vessels in his lungs to constrict. A short chakra transfusion would be needed before the operation, just enough to help keep the fever from returning while she was focusing on other areas.

The cancer itself would have to wait. Right now, the priority was keeping him alive.

“What’s wrong with him?” The voice that belonged to Jaguar echoed throughout the room, sounding strained.

Sakura paused, her hands hovering over Itachi’s chest. She felt the pin pricks of the Root operative’s eyes on her, almost eager to hear what she had to say.

Sakura’s mind was screaming at her. She knew damn well she couldn’t say the truth to Jaguar right now. Not with Danzo’s lackeys around. Whatever they were after, it likely involved Itachi. She had been in several Jonin Council meetings where people had made accusations of Danzo sniffing around Uchiha business.

Sakura steeled herself. She would not let any more harm befall her teammates older brother. She would get him back to the village in one piece while Root crawled back to Danzo empty handed.

Think, think, fucking think!

“You said that Kakuzu had a wind style puppet, correct?”

Jaguar nodded, “Yeah, the one that hit me.”

Okay, she could work with this. Neither of the Root agents seemed to have even a baseline grasp of medical ninjutsu. With any luck, their knowledge of anatomy didn’t extend far beyond where to stab for a quick kill.

“Did you see if it hit Itachi as well?”

Jaguar paused, the narrow slits of his mask tilted in thought. “No,” he finally said with a slow shake of his head. “I didn’t see much of his fight. Only the end—just before he collapsed. We were separated for most of it.”

Perfect. That would give her enough cover to work with. With Jaguar having seen so little, hopefully he would take her diagnosis at face value…for now.

She put on her best façade, keeping her voice steady and demeanor professional as she gave her fake verdict. “He has a partially collapsed lung, which is the reason for him coughing up blood. The fever and cold sweat are because infection has set in, and fluid has begun to build inside the cavity.”

Jaguar stared her down for a few moments before nodding. All the while, the two Root agents in the corner watched the exchange like hawks to prey.

“Alright,” Jaguar head focused in Itachi’s vicinity. “What can you do to help him?”

“I’ll need to drain the fluid from his lungs first,” Sakura explained, speaking just loud enough for the Root agents to hear. “Then reduce his fever. Once he’s stabilized, I can begin repairing the lung. He’ll require a chakra transfusion before the operation—just enough to keep his system from crashing.”

It was a partial truth. A believable one. It was close enough to what she would actually be doing to not raise suspicion. And from the subtle shift in the Root agent’s posture, they seemed content with that answer. One of them even knelt and began rifling through a ration pack, finally dropping the intense scrutiny.

Jaguar didn’t hesitate. “What do you need from me?”

She directed Jaguar to the other side of the bedroll.

“Hold his shoulders down, draining the fluid through an incision will be painful. I will numb it as much as I can, but he will still feel a good bit.” Sakura instructed, already unpacking her supplies.

She sorted through her scrolls, frustration mounting when she realized she hadn’t packed a spare basin or receptacle. Her eyes swept the dim room until they landed on a metal canister beside one of the Root agents.

“That metal canister, I will need it for the surgery.” Her tone was not one of request.

Froggy didn’t move for several seconds, only when Jaguar’s sharp tone pierced through Itachi’s choked breathing. “I don’t care what you were eating out of it. Give it to her.”  

The canister whistled through the air and Sakura caught it effortlessly. Opening it back up; she positioned it next to her.

Instructing Jaguar to hold Itachi down by his shoulders, she removed the blankets revealing the shirtless, sweat-soaked body beneath. Even unconscious, Itachi looked tense—skin ghostly pale, lips cracked, brow crinkled in pain.

Summoning her chakra scalpel, she traced the line of the ribcage with practiced precision, then made the incision. Itachi’s pained grunts reverberated throughout the room, but his body barely twitched. Either from exhaustion or sheer willpower.

She refocused her attention, funneling medical chakra into the incision and penetrating the lung cavity. The resistance was immediate. Thick, infected fluid pushed against her chakra like sludge, refusing to yield.

It took nearly thirty minutes of slow, methodical work to drain both lungs. Itachi’s body jerked sporadically despite Jaguar’s firm grip. Twice he coughed violently, spraying flecks of blood across the sheet, but after that, the wheezing began to subside. The oppressive rattle in his chest gradually faded into silence. Through it all, Jaguar stayed rooted to his post, dutifully securing Itachi in place while Sakura worked.

Sakura exhaled and sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead clean of the sweat that had gathered there during her diligent efforts. The canister beside her was full of cloudy, discolored fluid. The room still smelled of sickness and sweat, but the tension in the air had shifted.

She’d done her best to make the procedure as painless as possible. But back in the hospital, there would have been at least two other medics channeling numbing chakra into the patient’s system—one monitoring vitals, another managing pain. Out here, in a half-rotted house on the edge of nowhere, there were no such luxuries.

Itachi had been in pain. But he was alive—and for now—that was all that mattered.

Jaguar remained kneeling at his side, silent and unmoving, his hand still resting lightly on Itachi’s shoulder. His mask might have hidden his face, but the tension in his posture betrayed more than he likely intended. Sakura figured seeing his teammate in such duress must be taking a toll on him.

Rising to her feet, Sakura crossed the room. Unlatching the warped wooden window to let the outside air cut through the dense miasma of sickness. It reeked of mildew, blood, and sweat—thick enough to choke on

With a flick of her wrist, she dumped the contents of the metal canister out the window, the viscous fluid splattering into the grass below. She didn’t spare it a second glance. As she passed Froggy on the way back to the bedroll, she tossed the canister to him without a word. Maybe with more force that she should have.

Sorry for ruining your soup, she thought with a flicker of glee.

She knelt once more beside Itachi, pulling her medicinal pouch toward her. Her fingers sifted through glass vials and labeled stoppers, eyes scanning quickly until they landed on the bottle she needed. She popped the cap, uncorking the sharp scent of crushed herbs and distilled compounds.

Tilting his head gently, she brought the rim of the vial to Itachi’s rough and cracked lips. "Come on," she murmured under her breath, coaxing a small swallow from him. His throat moved faintly in response.

Jaguar’s masked gaze remained fixed on the bottle as though it held something more than antibiotics. She could feel the weight of his stare.

“It’s just an antibiotic,” Sakura said evenly, slipping the vial back into her pouch. She reached for her canteen and brought it to Itachi’s lips next, carefully helping him drink the offered water. “It’ll bring the fever down and help stave off the infection.”

Jaguar seemed to accept the answer, shoulders relaxing as he settled back on his heels. “How long until you can do the rest?” he asked. “I want to get moving again

as soon as he's able.”

Sakura sighed and ran a hand over her face, her fingers brushing hair from her forehead. “We’ll need to wait for the fever to break—at least a few hours. After that, I can do the chakra transfusion and start repairing the lung. If everything goes smoothly…” she paused, calculating, “…it should only take an hour or two.”

There was a beat of silence before an unexpected voice cut in:

“Two hours for half a lung?”

Her head snapped around.

Dipshit.

It was the first time he’d spoken since the mission began, and of course, he used it to challenge her. His tone was flat and interrogative—less curiosity, more accusation. Like a Konoha police officer prepping for an interrogation.

She glowered; not particularly happy he had picked now of all times to finally speak. Let alone to question her. “Yes,” She hissed, “I’m in the field without proper tools. I will need to take my time to ensure I mend it correctly.”

The painted fox mask just stared back at her, saying nothing more. Her eyes flicked to Froggy, still situated next to the reason for her high blood pressure. When her gaze met the frog mosaic, he turned his head away without a word of acknowledgement.

That wasn’t good.

She felt her stomach twist with unease. They were catching on. Her careful half-truths were unraveling under scrutiny.

She needed to talk to Jaguar. Alone. Immediately.

Sakura dusted off the front of her medic apron. “We should all try to get some rest soon. It will be a few hours before the fever settles. But before that, Jaguar, I’d like to take a look at your leg. It won’t take long.”

He nodded without question. “Alright.”

Standing up, she ran through a dozen ways to get Twiddle Dee and Tweedle Dumb out of the building when a thought occurred to her.

“When was the last time the area was swept?” she asked, keeping her voice casual, but her tone edged with concern. Her eyes flicked to Jaguar, who slowly turned his attention away from Itachi. His hand still resting protectively on his captain’s shoulder.

“Oh—just before you arrived,” he said, voice distant. His fingers curled slightly, as though reluctant to break contact with the man beneath him.

Sakura’s gaze softened. Sure, it wasn’t rare to care for the ones who watched our backs in battle, but Anbu were specifically trained to control and dampen their emotions until after the fight was won. They compartmentalized, buried emotion beneath years of control and steel nerves. However, this—this gentle protectiveness—was something else. She could only imagine the kind of bond that made a man like Jaguar falter.

“You two,” Sakura stated, gesturing towards Froggy and Dipshit “, lap the village once or twice. I want this placed secured.”

Neither Root operative moved, another rigid atmosphere appeared as Sakura stared them down. After several quiet moments, both rose. Froggy slung his blade across his back and padded toward the window, hopping out of it with practiced ease—more frog than man. Dipshit followed without a word, disappearing in a puff of smoke. It wasn’t until they were several houses away that Sakura abruptly turned.

Sakura didn’t relax until she felt both of their chakra signatures fade a fair distance away. Then, without hesitation, she turned on her heel.

Before she could even open her mouth, Jaguar beat her to it.

“You were lying.”

Her breath hitched—but only for a second. Her expression hardened, her posture squaring with sudden purpose. “I did,” she answered, striding forward and grabbing his arm with both hands. She hauled him up to stand, his weight light under her chakra-strengthened grip. Surprisingly, for a man that had caught on to her bluff’s, he let her manhandle him.

“They can’t be trusted,” she continued, already channeling chakra into her palms, seeking the pulse of his injuries. “That warning comes straight from Lady Hokage.”

His leg was worse off than he’d let on. Torn muscle, deep bruising around the hip joint, and a strained tendon running into the ankle. As she began carefully stitching the tissue together with chakra threads, Jaguar gave a faint nod.

“I assumed as much. Recognized the Root insignia…just a little later than I’d prefer.”

Sakura snorted softly. “Danzo weaseled his way into this assignment. I still don’t know exactly what he’s after, but…” She looked up, meeting the cold gaze of the cat mask. “I think it has something to do with Itachi.”

A low chuckle sounded from behind the mask, a rumbling of sarcastic humor if Sakura was placing the sound correctly.

“It probably involves me too, Pinky.”

Sakura shook her head confusedly as she finished piecing the last of the torn muscle tissue. She bit her tongue at mentioning the nickname, she was going to circle back to that later.

“Why would it involve you? It’s a fact Danzo has been snooping into Uchiha business for years.” Her hands moved downwards to the sprained ankle, massaging her chakra into it.

When he was silent for several moments, she turned her face to look up at him. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of two red eyes peering through the silts in the porcelain. Their piercing glow paralyzed her as she watched tomoe spin.

Thats when some things started adding up. Not many people could walk away from battles with S-ranked criminals with as little injuries as Jaguar had. Not many people would be on par with the likes of Itachi Uchiha. Not many people even fought with Itachi Uchiha, for that matter and not many people would be close enough to him to touch him as affectionately as she had seen Jaguar do.

Sakura’s eyes darted up to the head of disheveled black hair. She knew that haircut, had spent a month tending to a man in a coma with said haircut. If she looked down to his right forearm and saw a scar running diagonally across the middle, she would know who this was.

Because she had healed that scar herself when the man had been wheeled into her ICU.

Sure enough, as her eyes flickered down, there on his right forearm was a faded scar that traced down the middle.

“Shisui Uchiha.”