𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓻𝓪'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 in a ball, in a pitch-black room, for the longest time. It isn't her typical cell. No shackles are restraining her movements. She can leave, or at least she thinks she can, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to see them again, her friends, her family.

Sakura lets another sob out, a hand clenching her shirt. Her lungs burn from the continuous crying, and her cheeks have been wet for what feels like days, but she can't stop. It hurts more than a blade slicing her flesh, than any physical wound.

A part of her still believes it was all just an awful nightmare. It's the same part that wants to stop crying, the girl that hasn't given up yet.

That's Hana, Sakura thinks gloomily.

The other girl doesn't whine or waste precious time hidden behind a curtain of hair. She doesn't wait for everything to stop. She makes it stop.

At that thought, Sakura lifts her head from beneath her knees and thumps it against the back wall, eyes shut. The self-loathing is becoming unbearable. Now that everyone's stopped hurting her, it's as if she has to keep it going.

And she's good at it, has always been. When you think about it, everything they said to her, every insult they spat in her face, was just an echo of what she believed. A reflection of her thoughts and insecurities.

Does it mean she's been right all along?

Is she ugly?

Maybe. Who in the world has pink hair?

Is she weak?

Definitely—she wouldn't be crying right now if not. Plus, she's a civilian and a girl. She can act tough, but no one can change their fate. That was Neji's point the second time he stabbed her.

Is she shallow?

She thought she had changed, but it makes more sense to believe it's been Hana's doing all along. Sakura is a silly little girl, has always been, and that's all she'll ever be.

She slams her head harder against the wall, her fingers plunging deep into the flesh of her palms.

How to make it all stop?

She wants it to end.

It has to.

She peers through the darkness, trying to find a way out. A kunai rests at her feet. She stares at it for a while, munching her lower lip, her head filled with uncomfortable thoughts and vivid images of her past moments in the black and red world, of the hatred in Sasuke's eyes, of his harsh words and the way his nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of their shared kiss.

A frustrated groan escapes her lips, and she grabs the kunai with a trembling hand, drawing it closer to observe its sharp blade through the darkness. After one shaky inhale, she nears the kunai to her throat and closes her eyes in defeat.

It will soon be over.

She applies pressure to the weapon.

Sakura is about to slice her throat and end her life when a faint glow pierces her eyelashes and halts her movement. She glances at the room only to find out it's now the opposite of dark.

Right in front of her shines a blinding white bulb. Sakura blinks profusely and waits until she gets accustomed to the light before inspecting her surroundings. The first thing she notices when she looks around is that her head is pressed against a pillow and that she's lying on a bed. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling are white and oddly familiar.

A shiver runs down her spine, and she wraps her arms around herself, only to notice she's in nothing but her underwear. She glances down and follows with widened eyes the black symbols now covering every inch of her body.

"What the hell is going on?" she croaks.

Her throat feels like sandpaper. She glances around the room, looking for anything drinkable, but only finds her clothes neatly folded on a metallic tray. She jumps out of bed and hurries to the familiar pile of red but flinches when her bare feet graze the icy floor, then stumbles into the cart, hit by a wave of dizziness. In her fall, she knocks a bottle over, and the spilled ink attracts her attention to the other items on the tray. Under her ninja gear rests an old-looking book.

She peers at the open pages while putting her clothes on. The same symbols covering her body are reproduced on one side, but what truly frightens her is the picture on the right. It looks like the replica of an old painting, and it represents teenagers around her age, shackles to their wrists and ankles, bound to the ground, with full-grown women lurking in their shadows, wicked smiles painted on their beautiful faces.

She casts frantic glances around, her heart pounding in her chest. When her eyes land on an open door, she runs for it, survival mode on.

It's strange, Sakura thinks, as she exits the room and follows the lit corridors, how ready she was to die minutes ago, and now she's trying everything to survive. Maybe it was really just a nightmare.

She slows down when the sound of footsteps reaches her ears and hurries to try all the doors lining the hallway, but to her dismay, none of them open. She glances behind, pondering on her best course of action. The distance is too big; she cannot retrace her steps fast enough to escape the newcomer. Her eyes dart to the ceiling next, but it's carved into the rock. There's no way out up there. There's no way out anywhere.

Sakura turns her gaze forward, waiting for the person to round the corner, her mind filled with images of wicked women. They seem to walk achingly slowly, and Sakura's heart is about to smash through her chest when a shadow appears at the end of the corridor. She watches as it shrinks, and she takes a few steps back.

"You forgot to put your shoes on," a woman says.

Sakura freezes when she enters her line of sight.

"W-What?"

She follows the woman's pointing finger and glances at her feet.

"I left them beside your bed. Your shoes."

The voice sounds familiar, so Sakura snaps her head up to scrutinize the stranger. She's tall, has dark hair, dark eyes, and sharp canines that give an edge to her smile. She's pretty—intimidating, but pretty.

"Here."

The woman extends her other arm, and Sakura notices the glass in her hand and follows the water dripping from her callous fingers. Still, she hesitates, biting her dry lip.

"I'm not trying to poison you. That would be incredibly stupid of me, considering all the efforts I've put into keeping you alive so far."

Sakura accepts the glass tentatively, but instead of gulping it down, she stares at it.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, use your brain, Sakura! Does any of this look familiar to you? The white lab, the tunnels carved in the rock. We've been here before. You and me, as one."

The glass slips through Sakura's fingers and explodes into pieces at her feet. But the girl only stares at the woman before her.

"Yes, it's me. I found a way. I'm out of your body for good."

"Hana?" Sakura asks after a few seconds. "But you look... older. Who is she?"

The woman shrugs.

"I'm turning fifteen in a month and look five or six years older. It's not a big deal. I always thought I was quite mature for my—"

Sakura cuts Hana short by throwing her arms around the woman's neck. Hana doesn't reciprocate the hug, but Sakura doesn't care.

"That's the first good news I've heard in a long time," she whispers, tightening her hold. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Alright," Hana says, pushing the girl back. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"Sorry," Sakura mumbles, a smile spreading to her lips. "Now, how do we get out of here?"

Hana stares at her for a while and seems to hesitate. Then, her lips pressed in a thin line, she beckons for Sakura to follow.

"Listen, I had to make a deal with Orochimaru."

At that, Sakura's body tenses up, and she falters in her steps.

"You did what?"

"It was our only option," Hana answers, tugging Sakura's arm and leading her through twists and turns. "We were merging at a fast pace. I suspect Itachi's jutsu didn't help in the matter."

A shiver runs down Sakura's spine at the mention of the Uchiha, but she tries to hide her discomfort by pulling her arm free of Hana's clutch.

"Speaking of which," the brunette says, turning two calculating eyes toward the pink-haired girl. "What happened?"

"When? What are you talking about?"

Hana shrugs. "Don't know. Sasuke calls it the Tsukuyomi."

Sasuke.

This time, Sakura stops upon hearing the younger Uchiha's name. He warned her not to look into Itachi's eyes, but she did it anyway. How could she forget? Is she really that stupid? They talked about his brother, about what he did to him all those years ago, the powerful genjutsu. Could it be...?

"Oi! Sakura!"

The girl snaps back to reality and rests two wide eyes on Hana's approaching form.

"We don't have to talk about it."

The brunette squeezes Sakura's arm in reassurance.

"Thanks," she croaks, resuming her walk and forcing Hana to hurry behind.

"Wait!"

The older girl pulls on Sakura's wrist to stop her.

"There's still one stop to make before leaving for good."

"Is it part of your mysterious deal?"

The brunette doesn't acknowledge her question, only points her chin at one door to her left. It is closed, but contrary to the others, light is coming from under.

"We have to go in there?"

"Only you. There's no one inside but a bathroom and a set of clean clothes, soap, a toothbrush... I thought you'd want to freshen up before the journey home. Don't take it personally, but you're scary with all that ink on your face."

Sakura's eyes linger on the door as her hand brushes her cheek. She rubs the sticky substance off her skin, weighing her options. But every time she tries to ponder the cons, the memory of the cold, dripping glass of water comes rushing back, and she forgets everything else.

"You're not as bad as Sasuke makes you ought to be," she finally says, a hand resting on the knob. "That's very considerate of you. Now, I'll drink from the tap for thirty minutes, if you don't mind."

Hana snorts, then lingers behind as Sakura pushes the door open. The only light comes from a lit candle resting on a bedside table. Its moving flames create eerie shadows on the bare walls. Sakura's eyes scan the room, inspecting every inch of the place warily. But besides the modest furniture comprising a bed and a dresser, there's nothing else to see.

She takes her first step inside, but stops at Hana's calling.

"I'm just as bad as he is, you know."

Sakura frowns and glances back. The brunette is standing a few feet away, hands in her pockets.

"Sasuke and I. We're the same."

One corner of Sakura's mouth twitches upward.

"Then you're not bad at all."

Hana's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then her mask falls back in place.

"Right," she says, clearing her throat. "Well, I'll go back to find you some shoes. Then I'll wait outside."

And with that, the brunette retraces her steps, and Sakura follows her stiff movements until she rounds a corner.

"Thanks," she whispers before closing the door behind her.

After that, Sakura finds her way to the bathroom where another lit candle and a pile of clothes await her, just like Hana had said. Water's never felt so good in her mouth, and Sakura hurries to drink from the tap, eyes closed, hands gripping the counter.

When satisfied, she glances at herself in the mirror but averts her gaze upon seeing the smeared ink on her skin, the pink locks stuck in it, and the dark circles now carved under her tired eyes.

The shower feels great, and for the first five minutes, Sakura relaxes under the hot water, trying to remember the last time she's enjoyed such a luxury. How many days was she stuck in that genjutsu? At least three, she thinks with a shiver. And then, another week stuck in the dark, although it felt like a month.

Who knows... Maybe an hour has passed, and they're still in Tanzaku, in the hotel's basement.

Sakura hurries to scrub the ink away, eager to find out what happened to her teammates at the memory of Tanzaku. She doesn't know if she's ready to see them again, but hearing they're safe would be great.

She wraps herself in a towel, brushes her hair and teeth, drinks more water from the tap with a satisfied sigh, then inspects the pile of clothes.

She puts the black shorts on but freezes when it's time to wear the midnight blue shirt. A familiar wooded scent engulfs her nostrils, and her eyes lock on a red and white fan embroidered on the back.

"Sasuke-kun," she whispers, eyes wide.

Does it mean that he's here, somewhere? Was he a part of Hana's mysterious deal? Did Orochimaru already go through with his threat of stealing Sasuke's body?

Sakura puts the shirt on, swings the door open, and strides toward the shadow seated on the bed, fists clenched.

"Hana, you sneaky bastard! Where is he?"

"Sakura."

She brings herself to a halt when the shadow pushes itself up and turns to her.

There he is. And yet, it doesn't seem like him. He looks taller, standing in the dancing light of the candle. He's wearing black now, and his headband is nowhere to be seen. Just like hers, Sakura realizes, hand running through her wet pink locks.

But what really startles her is the calculating look in his eyes. The same he was wearing in the Tsukuyomi when he broke her relentlessly. She takes a step back.

"Sasuke-kun?"

"Leave."

"W-What?"

"Leave," he says louder, taking a step forward. "NOW!"

She flinches and stumbles backward, but her wet feet slip on the concrete floor, and she falls on her rear, eyes shut tight. Her limbs are shaking, her chest heaving as she waits for the familiar pain of a blade plunging into her heart, the humiliation of his spit landing on her face. Instead, a warm hand cups her cheeks.

"I won't hurt you," he whispers, and she relaxes upon feeling the warmth of his breath on her lips.

She peers at him through her long eyelashes when he wipes away the tears from her face.

"I won't hurt you," he repeats, leaning her head against his shoulder.

She closes her eyes again and nestles her nose in the crook of his neck. Her sobbing is the only sound coming from the room for a while.

"What did he do to you?"

She pushes herself out of his embrace at the question.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says between two hiccups.

"Then you understand why I have to stay," he says more firmly. "You've seen what he's capable of. I'm not strong enough."

"But you can get stronger in Konoha," she replies, frowning, wishing they could return to their previous position.

"Sakura, Orochimaru killed Sarutobi."

She stares at him, unsure of what he means.

"Yes, exactly. Orochimaru killed the Hokage. Don't you see how dangerous he is? The horrible things he does?"

He ignores her. "Which means he's the most powerful shinobi of the Land of Fire. Stronger than Kakashi."

"There were so many wrong things in that last sentence," she fires back. "First, Orochimaru isn't a shinobi. He's a rogue. He kills people for his own benefit."

She gets up, hands on her hips.

"And we're not in the Land of Fire anymore. We're in Oto's territory. It isn't your home here, Sasuke."

Her eyes widen at the drop of the honorific, but Sasuke doesn't seem to notice.

"I have no home, Sakura," he says, following her up. "Nothing's left for me in Konoha, but nightmares and horrible memories."

"Nothing at all?"

Her voice breaks, and she curses herself when her vision blurs.

He averts his eyes.

"I have to kill my brother. That's the only thing that matters right now. What he did to you, to Naruto, it's just proof that I can't have anything until he's dead."

Sakura studies him for a while, understanding his reasons. He doesn't want Team Seven to die because of him, to lose them like he lost his family. But it's not his choice to make.

She wraps gentle fingers around his wrist to attract his attention.

"Then I'll stay with you," she whispers. "I'll leave Konoha, my parents, Naruto, Kakashi, and everything behind to help you achieve your goal."

"You can't do that. You'd be a deserter."

She shakes her head, sending her hair flying left and right.

"Doesn't matter. I'd do anything for your happiness, Sasuke-kun. I..."

She hesitates, cheeks burning.

"I love you, Sasuke-kun. Love you so much that it hurts. I don't understand half my feelings for you, but I know I'll only be happy if you're safe."

He stares at her, eyes wide. "I..."

"You don't have to say anything. Just take me with you. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to! Please, Sasuke-kun. You'll need me."

He flinches.

"And that's exactly why you have to leave."

He closes the distance between them in two strides and rests a hand on her arm, raising goosebumps on her skin. Slowly, his touch sneaks up to her neck, and his fingers tangle in her hair. He leans forward, eyes staring deep inside her soul. She knows what will happen next, so she closes the distance and kisses him first. Her hands rest on his chest, and she closes her eyes when his mouth moves against hers.

She doesn't know how to deepen the kiss, but her fists naturally tighten around his shirt when his fingers dig into her skull, and the next thing she knows, their tongues are dancing around each other, his other hand resting awkwardly on her hip.

His fingers dig deeper, if possible, and she thinks it's the best feeling in the universe until she feels nothing, and her body falls limply against his chest.

Thank you is the last thing she hears before completely losing consciousness.