Satori (Between the Lines)
Chapter 25

"Sakura."

Sakura doesn't turn toward the voice, only curling further in on herself as she stares blankly at her wall. She's been in bed for...is it days now? She doesn't really know; doesn't really register the passing of time. Everything, day or night, is gray to her right now.

A weight settles at the foot of her bed and a gloved hand is placed on her bare ankle.

Sakura immediately sits up, turning with excitement.

"Toru-"

Sakura cuts herself off as she meets Ibiki's startled gaze, her face crumpling in crippling disappointment. Her chest feels hollowed out as that momentary burst of hope collapses into hopelessness. She's foolish, she knows that. Just because the sensation was similar, it doesn't mean Torune's returned.

He's been missing for several weeks now; there's no chance. Besides, even if Torune was back, why would he come to see her?

It's her fault he's missing in the first place.

"Sakura, kid, c'mon," Ibiki says, voice rising in panic.

Sakura blinks, suddenly realizing that she's shaking silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ibiki hovers over her, hands moving around uncertain of how to comfort her. "I-I'm sorry, Ibiki," she says.

"Ah shit kid, I don't need an apology," Ibiki says, so flustered that he isn't mindful of his language. His hand, now gloveless, pats her head roughly.

Sakura leans into the touch, grounding herself in how different he is from Torune. His hands are large, nearly encompassing the whole of her face, and heavily calloused. He isn't Torune.

He isn't Torune.

And that...that's fine.

Sakura calms in increments and Ibiki's patting slows, finally settling into almost stroking her hair. It's soothing and Sakura finds herself listing to the side a bit, forehead pressed against Ibiki's arm.

"Why are you here?" Sakura asks, when she's able to gather her thoughts enough.

She realizes, distantly, that her wording is rather rude, but she cannot muster the might to adjust.

"You haven't been by the office in a while," Ibiki says.

Sakura hums, shutting her eyes. Sakura can feel Ibiki's eyes on her, patiently awaiting an explanation.

She doesn't offer one.

"You also haven't been to classes," Ibiki finally says.

Sakura shakes her head, feeling those cursed tears tickle at her eyes again. She hates this. She hates being this unstable, set off at the slightest provocation or sensory reminder.

Ibiki slides his hand through Sakura's hair, tilting her head up toward him so he can meet her eyes. "Sakura, what's going on?"

"I can't," Sakura says, voice breaking. "It hurts."

"Sakura," Ibiki says, gravelly voice impossibly gentle.

Sakura pulls away from his warmth. She doesn't deserve it. It's her fault Torune is gone. She strove so, so hard for safety and shelter for herself and it never occurred to her that protection needed to be extended to her friends as well.

If she hadn't interfered and struggled so much, Torune would still be here.

Yes, she would've likely disappeared instead. But right now, it seems so much more preferable to the reality.

After all, she was the one who got herself on Celandine's master's radar; not Torune. He was an innocent in all of this; a bystander caught in the crossfire of their war of wills. In her desperation to save herself, she left Torune to the shadows.

Sakura scrubs an angry hand across her eyes as she continues walking, hating the bitter tears that sting and taunt her. She's so damn useless; if the whole might of the Aburame clan and of the Konoha Police Force cannot save Torune, then what could she possibly contribute?

And she feels so, so weak. She can't even bring herself to visit any of their old haunts-the library, the Aburame compound, or the fields around Konoha-without being absolutely overwhelmed by a crushing sensation of guilt. She can't stand to go to the Academy.

The Academy was Torune's long-standing goal; the dream he worked so hard for.

And he achieved it, only for it to be snatched away.

How can Sakura possibly stand within the Academy, parading herself over all of Torune's squandered dreams? She can't go there, not when Torune is still gone. It isn't fair to him.

None of this is fair.

"It's my fault," Sakura manages to choke out, between body wracking sobs.

Ibiki scowls. "No it isn't," he barks. Sakura jumps, hiccuping wetly. He seems to realize just how much he startled her as his expression eases. "It isn't your fault that this happened. The only one responsible is the one who took Torune."

Sakura just shakes her head. She still hasn't revealed her interactions with Celandine and, at the moment, she doesn't have the necessary energy to unravel all the tangled cords of that story. Her thought processes are scattershot, racing rapidly but seemingly getting nowhere at all. And through it all, there is an underlying, pervasive sense of shame.

"Should've been me," she manages to say.

Sakura suddenly finds herself crushed against Ibiki's chest. His arms hold her close in a tight hug. There's almost a sensory overload, but, in a strange way, the physical pressure is grounding.

"Don't say that," Ibiki says, a waver in his voice. Sakura can feel the rumbling through his chest as he speaks. "Please, Sakura. You have no idea how much you mean to so many people. What happened to Torune was in no way deserved by him. But it isn't deserved by you either." He squeezes her slightly. "Please value yourself more."

Sakura doesn't reply, just holding him in turn. She finds herself relaxing, thoughts slowing, until, finally, she falls asleep.

Anko stares down at the morose child who is nearly hidden in her blankets. Sakura is curled up in a ball, making herself even smaller than she actually is. Something in Anko's chest squeezes as she stares down at her. Whenever Sakura is in the office she has an almost larger than life presence, as she often natters on and on about some esoteric factoid that sparks her passion in the moment. To see her like this now, wan and listless, makes Anko very uneasy.

And unlike the Nara snafu, this behavior has persisted. It's been several weeks since one of the Aburame scions vanished without a trace and Sakura has been in this disconsolate state ever since. She doesn't attend school or her hard-won lessons with Jiraiya; hell, the kid is barely eating.

They've set up something of a rotating watch system as Kizashi and Mebuki cannot be in the house every hour of every day. Midori, one of Anko's summons, is with Sakura constantly, and Anko and Ibiki have acted as almost satellites, orbiting in and out of the Haruno household on a frequent if somewhat inconsistent basis. Anko sees hints of other visitors: an ever increasing stack of books placed by Jiraiya to try to tantalize Sakura; fresh cut flowers from Ino; and delicious dishes prepared by the Akimichi courtesy of Chōji and Naruto.

Of all these gifts, the only one that inspired a reaction from Sakura was the flowers. She took a single look at the pretty cluster of snowdrops before bursting into tears.

Ino stopped bringing flowers after that.

In all of this, Anko has not seen much of the Aburame, aside from Shino. Shino and Sakura have clung to each other through Torune's disappearance and Shino can often be found keeping Sakura company in her bedroom. Anko knows the Aburame are private people; doubtless they are mourning within their compound. But Anko isn't concerned with them, she's concerned with Sakura.

No one really seems to know what to do to handle this. Most everyone expected for Torune to be found within a few hours, not for things to stretch out like this. Anko and Ibiki work in the Intelligence Division; they know how poor the odds are for children who aren't found within the first few days.

Especially for shinobi clan children.

Even though Mebuki and Kizashi are not shinobi themselves, they remember the Hyūga fiasco of just a few years ago. They know how valuable the kekkai genkai of the clans are to the other shinobi nations. Clan members, especially children, can be broken down and systematically rebuilt into weapons to be used against their homelands.

No one wants to break the news of this to Sakura.

At this point, the odds of recovering Torune are...marginal at best.

How does one reveal such harsh truths to such a young child? Regardless of how precocious Sakura is, it's still too harsh a reality for someone so young to bear.

As evidenced by her current state.

Anko sighs, ruffling her bangs. She supposes that this conversation of coping falls to her. "Hey kid," she says loudly, perching herself on the bed. She leans over Sakura, poking at her mercilessly. Sakura's ensuing actions remind her quite a bit of a roly-poly bug, the way she unfurls from her balled-up state. Sakura's green eyes are clouded and blank, though there's a spark of frustration in the furrow of her brows. Anko forces her lips up into a lopsided grin, the one that Ibiki calls insane and Kōri called charming. "Miss me?"

Sakura just looks at Anko for a long moment with an unreadable expression. Finally, she nods, leaning into Anko for a hug. Sakura inhales the scent of smoke, both the smoke of katon jutsus and the smoke of cigars, that lingers in Anko's trenchcoat.

"Hey," Anko says, stroking Sakura's back. Her gut clenches as she stares down at the tiny girl who has somehow wormed her way into Anko's heart. The number of people who've made it that far can be counted on a single hand. "I wanted to talk to you."

Sakura nods slightly against Anko's arm.

Anko pulls away from the hug, brushing back the hair that falls into Sakura's eyes. "You're still very young, there's a lot in life you've yet to experience. Many highs and lows that you'll get to experience. And right now, you're living through one of the hardest lows of all."

"And what low is that?" Sakura asks, voice quiet and rough with disuse.

"Loss," Anko replies. She feels the way Sakura flinches at the word, trying to curl into herself. Anko doesn't let her, keeping a firm hold on Sakura. "You know, for the path that we've chosen, to become a shinobi, we are required to reconcile ourselves to the very stark reality of our careers. We reconcile ourselves to loss very young, loss of agency, loss of identity, and loss of life. But all of it is about the loss of us; the loss of our personhood for the sake of Konoha. We aren't taught though about the other types of loss."

Anko pauses, bitterness clinging like bile to the inside of her mouth. She's overwhelmed for a moment by sensory memories, the cloying scent of perfume and sibilant tones of her first mentor.

"I was a recent graduate of the Academy when I had my first brush with loss. It was different from what you're currently going through; this was a loss brought on by betrayal." Anko feels again the venomous sting as she remembers Orochimaru's final words to her as he left Konoha. "My mentor turned on Konoha; he strayed from the ideals and tenets that we follow. He twisted what it means to be a shinobi of Konoha. He hurt so many people."

Anko pauses, exhaling heavily. "And yet, he was still my mentor. I still mourned his loss, even as I realized how insidious his actions truly were." Her fingers brush against the high collar of her trench coat as Anko remembers the indescribable pain of being broken down and made anew into a creation of Orochimaru's design. "I cared for him, despite all the suffering and pain he put me through, both before and following his loss. I felt like a part of me, a large part of me, disappeared when he fled from Konoha."

Anko stares down into Sakura's eyes. "He was a big part of my life and, all of a sudden, he was gone. I found myself unable to go to the places we shared; I couldn't go to our usual training grounds or the dango shop near the Tower without becoming completely overwhelmed. To this day, I still cannot stand the scent of lavender; it reminds me too much of his preferred scent. There's so much about the way my life used to be that I could no longer have the same way."

Sakura's eyes are wide as she stares up at Anko with desperation. "And what do you do?"

"You adapt," Anko replies. "You overcome what you're forced to overcome. That dango shop is my favorite shop today; I refused to give it up for stale, unhappy memories."

"But you lost someone to betrayal," Sakura says, face crumpling. "Torune-" Her voice catches for a moment. "Torune didn't betray Konoha; he didn't betray me."

"I know," Anko says softly.

She pauses for a long moment, collecting herself. This other loss is different; it's intimate and pains her in a way that not even Orochimaru's betrayal does. Orochimaru's loss is like venom, burning through her veins, threatening to shut her system down. This loss, Kōri's loss, is a slow, unending ache that threatens to overwhelm her even now. Pursuing her memories of Kōri offers the promise of temporary bliss only to be followed by a renewed sense of loss.

"After losing my mentor I engaged in some...unhealthy coping habits. I rose through the ranks on the skills and paranoia instilled in me by that betrayal. I became a very unpleasant person, refusing to let anyone in close to me. I sought to keep everyone at arms' length and most fled beyond kunai throwing range." Anko's lips quirk in a sad smile. "Not Kōri though."

"Kōri?" Sakura repeats.

"She was a member of Anbu and I met her during my brief tenure with the group. I was...sixteen? Seventeen maybe. I cycled through quite a few teams; no one was willing to keep me on their team for more than a single mission. But Kōri was different. She was several years older than me and she was surprisingly normal?" Anko chuckles. "Sage above, I hated her at first; she was perky. But Kōri was stubborn, beyond even myself. She kept requesting me on her team, it got to the point where we would go on missions together without any other teammates. Well, Ibiki would put up with us both." Anko rolls her eyes. "Slowly, but surely, Kōri worked her way past my defenses."

Anko swallows, remembering Kōri's sparkling eyes and mischievous foxgrin. "She's the one who convinced me to join the Intelligence Division. Kōri saw my anger, my frustration, and she helped me hone it into a useful skill, a tool to be wielded as necessary. I fell in love with her." Sakura releases a soft gasp and Anko smiles despite the way her eyes burn. "And she loved me in turn. I was so, so happy."

"What happened?" Sakura asks, squeezing Anko's hand.

"She disappeared several years ago," Anko says, smile disappearing. This is still difficult to say; hell, she's never spoken this aloud to another person. "Unlike me, Kōri stayed in Anbu; there were long stretches where she served outside of Konoha. Many of her missions were shrouded in mystery, only between her and the Hokage. I was able to suss out information on her final mission. Kōri was doing espionage in Suna, ensuring that the Kazekage was honoring our treaty. She never returned. She's classified as missing in action but it's been years. Kōri isn't coming home."

Sakura's eyes redden as tears burn their way down her cheeks. She can hear the pain in Anko's voice, raw and visceral. Even though it's been years, the loss is still fresh to Anko. "How did you cope?"

Anko releases a wet laugh. She doesn't make mention of the alcohol, recreational substances, or recreational activities she indulged in; she realizes they aren't appropriate coping mechanisms for a child.

"I take it every day at a time," Anko says. "There are places that were special to Kōri and I; the paths outside the gates of Konoha where we went on morning runs, the sweets shop that sold Kōri's favorite taiyaki, the sentry post we always had a monthly mission at just so we could spend a full day together and get paid. It's hard to go to those places. But I still go sometimes to reminisce. Even though Kōri isn't here anymore, those places are. You know, it's nice to indulge in those memories sometimes. Kōri is gone, but she lives on in my memories. I can experience her in the Konoha sunrises that she so loved or in eating the mochi she always complained about."

"But doing that hurts," Sakura whispers. "Everywhere I go, it feels like Torune is close by; I can feel him near me."

"Time helps with that," Anko replies. "I won't lie to you Sakura. It always hurts. Losing someone you love will always be painful. But that pain can feel sweet. When I indulge my memories of Kōri, it hurts, but it hurts in a sweet way. Kōri gets a chance to live on in those moments, to breathe again. Thinking about Torune, remembering Torune, undoubtedly hurts. But you're experiencing him once again.

"It can be helpful too to share that loss with other people," Anko says. "It eases the burden in a way, you aren't the only one carrying Torune."

"Have you shared your loss with someone else?" Sakura asks.

Anko smirks, realizing that Sakura knows her all too well. "I've shared with you and with Ibiki. He knew her too. Share with your friends, Sakura. Reminisce with Shino and Ino; they are Torune's friends too.

"Even more than that though, you have to overcome this shame you're caught up in," Anko continues. "You are not at fault for Torune's loss; the only people who can be held to account are the perpetrators. You have to overcome that voice in your head that keeps telling you it's your fault. I felt much the same with Kōri. What if I had been in Anbu still? What if I was on that mission with her? So many questions and possibilities that plagued me. You have to keep in mind…" Anko pauses as her voice cracks. Sakura rubs Anko's back. "You have to keep in mind what that person would want for you. Even if they are no longer around. Do you think Kōri, a person who loved me, would want me to suffer? Do you think she would want to see me waste away into nothing in her absence? Of course not. Kōri would want me to go on and thrive. What do you think Torune would want for you?"

"I…" Sakura stops, swiping at her eyes. "I'm not sure."

Anko gives her a penetrating look. "That kid adored you to bits. Healing is a process; it takes time, but it requires you to want it." Anko smoothes out Sakura's fringe, hesitates a moment, and then leans in, popping a kiss against her forehead. "I don't want you to waste away into nothing. And I don't think Torune would either. I'll let you rest and think about it."

Sakura grasps Anko's hand as she moves to leave. "Thank you Anko," Sakura says. "For everything."

Anko meets Sakura's eyes. There is still a lingering sadness, a pain there that isn't going to go away anytime soon. But her gaze is unclouded; it's clear.

Anko squeezes Sakura's hand, turning away with a smile. She raises a hand in a casual farewell. "Anytime kid."

Sakura's going to be just fine.

Sakura glances up from her writing as a knock sounds at the door. Sakura's brow furrows as she glances down at Midori. Midori looks back at her, blinking placidly. Unlike most of Anko's other summons, she doesn't speak, at least not in a way that Sakura can understand. There's some form of language though, since Anko always receives reports from the small snake. So Sakura assumes, given that Midori isn't vibrating or hissing, that it's safe for her to get the door.

Sakura lifts Midori, tucking her into the collar of her oversized shirt as she exits the dining room to get the door.

As she swings open the door, Sakura finds herself blinking.

It's Shikamaru.

"Shikamaru?" Sakura says, quizzical. She hasn't seen him since...well, it's been several weeks. "Why are you here?"

Shikamaru stares back at her, brows furrowed and lips pursed. "I could ask you the same question. Why haven't you been to class? It's been weeks. You have marred your perfect attendance; in fact your attendance looks a lot more like mine. What's going on?"

Sakura opens her mouth to respond.

"I mean, I know what's going on, the Aburame kid went missing," Shikamaru interrupts, looking more than a little flustered. "And that's…that's absolutely terrible. And I am really sorry that it happened. Shino's started coming back to class but...you haven't." He flushes, scratching his cheek. "And I know that different people have different ways of coping and different time tables but…" He stops, exhaling deeply. There's an almost frenetic quality to the way he's speaking, a nervous energy belying each of his words. "I'm sorry, I'm going about this the wrong way. May I start over?"

Sakura nods, bemused. She's reminded for a moment of the last time Shikamaru apologized to her. Truthfully, he's doing a much better job this time. His body language is much more open and submissive toward her. His gaze is contrite and he isn't trying to crowd her or push her into accepting his words.

It's...nice, to see the difference.

"I wanted to come by today because I was worried about you," Shikamaru says, refusing to meet her gaze. "It's been several weeks since you've been to class and I know you're suffering because your friend is gone. I wanted to see how you're doing."

"I've been more than a little lost," Sakura says.

Shikamaru nods, looking a bit lost and uncomfortable himself. He reaches into his bag, pulling out several books. "I wanted to bring you some books." He proffers them in her direction.

Sakura takes them, looking at the different titles. A Consideration of Kusagakure's Cant. A Litmus of Languages. The Primer of Iron's Grammar.

Sakura's eyes snap back to Shikamaru. "It was you!" she says, louder than she intended. Shikamaru flushes, unable to hold her gaze. "You're the one who left the books in my nook! I've been trying to figure it out for months."

Shikamaru laughs nervously. "Well, you certainly didn't make it easy. You started setting all those traps."

Sakura giggles, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I was just a bit curious."

"Trust me, I know." Shikamaru smirks, but it isn't mean-spirited, it's more like he's inviting her to commiserate with him. "Your curiosity is one of your most defining characteristics."

Sakura smiles. "I won't argue with you there." There's a slightly awkward pause as they just look at each other. "Why did you leave the books in the first place?"

"I…" Shikamaru stops, scuffing the ground with his shoe. "What you said to me, about apologies, really stuck with me. I wasn't really asking for your forgiveness; I was demanding it selfishly, just like everything else I did. It wasn't fair to you." He bites his lip. "And it certainly wasn't fair to you that I cost you your apprenticeship."

"That wasn't-"

"Maybe not directly," Shikamaru says. "But after all that happened between you, otou-san, and me, there was no chance of that apprenticeship continuing on as it had. It was forever changed; even if you hadn't chosen to end it. My recklessness cost you so many opportunities that, as a first-generation shinobi, were few and far between. I thought it was only fair to try to even the field just a little bit. Give you access to books on codes, clans, and jutsus that you couldn't get at the public library. It wasn't much, but it's something I could do."

Sakura stares at him, clutching the books close to her chest. "Shikamaru, thank you. Seriously, thank you."

Shikamaru gives her a slight smile, cheeks still red. "It's the least I could do." He cocks a brow at her. "Though now that you're skipping classes, I'm not so sure I made the right choice. That's much more my shtick."

Sakura laughs at that. "Listen, I'm coming back to classes soon. I've been working on the assignments that I missed, Mizuki-sensei brought by the material yesterday. Once I catch up, I'll be back."

Shikamaru grins and it transforms his entire expression, his eyes sparkling. For once, he looks his age. "Good to hear it. It'll be good to have you back in class; it's been fairly boring." He crosses his arms, grin becoming playful. "You better be on your game."

Sakura giggles, shaking her head. "We'll see. I might be a bit behind."

"You'll be just fine," Shikamaru says. "It's you after all."

Sakura reaches out to him, offering her hand. Shikamaru looks at her quizzically. "Hey, Shikamaru?"

"Yeah?" There's a nervous quirk in his response.

"I'm not sure if you need to hear this, but you're forgiven for what happened in the past," Sakura says. "I forgive you. Thank you for checking in on me."

Shikamaru's responding grin is absolutely breathtaking.

"Of course," Shikamaru says, taking her hand almost in a pact of sorts, almost like a promise. "You're my rival after all."