Nettle (NET – L) verb:

1. To irritate, annoy, or provoke.

2. To sting as nettle does.

It was quite lucky for Sakura that she was found when she was – soon after she was settled under Karin's care, she was ravaged by a terrible flu.

The weeks of tromping through snow, sleet, and freezing rain all the while battling hunger, stress, and guilt had taken a horrible toll on the young Haruno. The matronly Karin had her on strict bed rest for close to two weeks, filling her up with hardy stew and keeping her completely wrapped in thick blankets.

Sakura could not remember ever being so sick in her short life. When she wasn't being wracked with horrible chills, she was stricken with a red-hot fever that made her crave Kisame's cool hands on her forehead, and Konan's calming presence by her side. When she was able to become comfortable enough to sleep, her mind clouded and hazy all the while, she had terrible nightmares.

In her dreams she was always in the tunnels under Ame, but they lacked the comforting feeling of home they once had. Instead, she was forced to wander the empty corridors in complete darkness, the smell of rot in her nose and the dampness seeping into her bones. She couldn't make a sound, her lips seemed to have been glued shut – or maybe she was too scared to speak, she didn't know which. Faintly, Sakura could hear Pein's voice, calling out, asking for her to make a noise so he could find her. In the dream, she moved in the direction of the voice, blindly looking for her surrogate father in the blackness, before being dragged away by some invisible entity she could neither see nor feel, silently screaming into the shadows. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of being wrapped entirely in a thick cloak – too tight, always, always too tight – the scent of Madara lingering around her even as she jerked awake, tears on her cheeks.

As she slowly recovered from her illness, Karin kept a careful eye on her frail charge. She took it upon herself to watch over her, refusing any and all payment, meager as it was, that Sakura tried to offer in return for the food and board. Her brother owned the inn, so it was more than easy getting him to agree to help the lost little girl who appeared to have no family to look after her.

As she gradually conquered her sickness and fatigue, Sakura told the woman what her purpose in coming to the little village was, and so Karin began the search for her father for her. From the minimal amount of information she was able extract from her charge during her feverish state, Karin began asking people around town about a red-headed, green-eyed doctor named Haruno Ishi.

Unfortunately, no one could come up with anything more than a few half-baked snatches of memories that might have been more suggestion than truth and little else. Some of the older folk who ventured into the inn for drinks and warm stew seemed to recall a doctor named Ishi who used to work in the clinic some years ago, but that was it. It wasn't until one of the workers was prevailed upon to dig through the stacks of old employee files that more information was discovered. His file was thin, only one or two pages thick, with a small, square photo stapled to the corner and a few stains from where moisture had seemed into the cardboard box it was held in.

Delighted by the finding, Karin had promised the employee at the clinic a free sake whenever he came into the inn and then hurried back to her little ward, hoping that she might be awake by the time she returned. If not, well, she would just have to wake her up. It was snowing in earnest as she walked across the plaza to the entrance of the inn, and the wind howled like a thousand great wolves as it moved through the spindly, snow-packed trees. The plump woman slipped through the door with a grateful sigh and pulled her scarf down from over her nose and mouth, her gloved fingers wrapped around the thin manila file like it was made of something far more precious than recycled paper. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit common room, noting the regulars sitting at the bar, hunched over alcoholic beverages and even a few bowls of soup, and gasped with pleasure at the sight of what appeared to be a few shinobi huddled over a small table in the corner of the room. They didn't get many visitors in their little town, and shinobi always paid well. Making a mental note to come back to their table after delivering her gift to Sakura, the woman moved her eyes away from the men and looked over to the place her charge seemed to favor in the days she had been able to get out of bed – a tattered but plush loveseat situated by the window in front of the roaring fire, the back facing the rest of the room.

Spotting the corner of a quilt hanging over the armrest and a mug of tea on the side table, Karin beamed and hustled over to her, snow melting in her graying hair. "It's good to see you out of bed," she noted happily as she rounded the table, her eyes landing cheerfully on the huddled form of Sakura, wrapped tightly in her quilt and hair pushed out of her face with a sloppy braid that she had obviously done herself.

The little girl looked up at her with tired but grateful eyes, her cheeks still rosy with a slight fever. "It is good to be out of bed, Karin-san," she replied, her voice slightly husky with sickness. It was true that she was quite happy to be out of that little bed more and more often as her sickness passed, but as her mind came back to her, another sickness seemed to creep in on her – loneliness, confusion, guilt, and pure worry. Karin thought her quietness and general withdrawal were part of being so ill for so long, with perhaps a dash of natural shyness, but that was not it.

What have I done?

What foolishness had driven her to leave her family? Were they even her family? What was she going to do now, even if she found out that that damn book was wrong? Surely, they would not take her back now that she had directly disobeyed their orders and left them. Even if she crawled back on her hands and knees, she doubted Madara would ever forgive her. She had betrayed them, all because of a stupid, stupid book, and Sakura felt the guilt weigh on her like the fever she could not seem to shake.

Was that her punishment, she wondered grimly. Was she to die of sickness in this little town because she had betrayed those who had loved her? I deserve it, she had thought as she stared into the fire, her quilt pulled up to her chin. I deserve to die. I have nowhere to go now, and no one has even heard of my father, so I have no one.

So many questions filled her mind that she could hardly answer a single one of them, and the persistent headache and fever she had didn't help any. Konan would know what to do, she thought, sniffling slightly. She'd make my fever go away. She always knew just what to do to make me feel better.

"I have something for you," Karin said, breaking her out of her sullen reverie. The little girl blinked owlishly and finally noticed the thin file in the woman's hand, her pink brows coming together over her jade eyes in confusion. The matronly innkeeper lifted it up and waved in the air before her nose excitedly, her plump cheeks red with happiness. In a hushed but undoubtedly pleased voice, she explained, "It's a personnel file from the clinic!"

Her mind still mired down with fever and whirling emotions, Sakura did not quite understand right away. "File?" she repeated dubiously, not making the connection between the clinic and herself right away.

"Yes, a file," Karin exclaimed happily as she waved it in front of Sakura's pert nose again, urging her to take it. When the girl just stared up at her without comprehension for another long moment, the woman let out a gusty sigh, but her grin did not falter. "It's a file on your father, Sakura."

Sakura's reaction was instantaneous. Immediately, she snapped out of her feverish daze and tossed the quilt off of her upper half, her greedy little hands snatching the file from the woman without hesitation. My father. This mythical man she had been wondering about her whole life, who had driven her to traverse the forests and wild for two weeks to come to this sleepy little town in the mountains all by herself – he was in this thin, flimsy little file. Without thinking, the girl ripped the cover away, eager to finally, finally know the man who had sired her, but all her frenzy left her the moment her eyes landed on the small, square picture stapled in the corner.

He has red hair.

Sakura didn't know what she had pictured him to look like – he had always been sort of shadowy and figureless in her mind, a concept more than a physical man – but suddenly he was real; a man with ginger hair, kind green eyes so much like her own, and a face that was almost round except for the angles of the corners of his jaw. He wasn't smiling in his picture, as it was obviously some sort of identification used in the records, but his expression was still friendly, with the skin crinkling a bit at the corners of his eyes and the lines just beginning to show at the corners of his mouth showed that he was one who smiled often and well. Distantly, she wondered if she would get lines like that too. Besides that, though, he looked young. Not much older than Itachi, or even Konan.

As she stared at the picture, all the noise of the inn around her – the crackling of the fire, the hushed conversation at the bar, the clanking from the kitchen – died. Only a dull buzzing filled her ears, like the low hum of a bee in the distance, and Sakura's mind went blank for the first time since she had woken from her fever-induced daze a few days ago. There in her dainty hands, stapled to an old manila folder, was the only picture she had ever seen of her only known blood relative.

It was surreal, for someone who had grown up with only her friends and surrogate family around her, to see someone who looked like her, someone who had the same genes as her, who had the same eyes and maybe even the same hair. Haruno Ishi, the file read in big, bold letters on the page beneath the photo. There it was – proof. Proof that there was someone else out there, that the Akatsuki were not the only ones she could call family.

Sakura did not know what to make of it.

"Well, go on! What does it say?" Karin asked excitedly, drawing Sakura once more out of her daze. The girl shook her petal-colored head once, deciding that she could contemplate the repercussions of this later, after she had read through whatever else the file had to say. Clearing her throat lightly, her eyes moved over to the page beneath the photo, her brows furrowing as she read with words on it.

"It says he was a relief worker," she informed her caretaker slowly, the information slowly seeping into her mind as she spoke. The file did not read like a story, but more like a stat sheet, and it was hard to find a place for her eyes to settle first. "He joined the clinic for… a severe outbreak of influenza, looks like. He was, um, twenty-three." Her sea-foam green eyes narrowed as she calculated the time between the dates listed on the page. "He was here for four months."

"Oh, that makes sense," Karin breathed with a nod, her chin bobbing against the loose skin of her neck comically. "I remember that. Ten or so years ago now we had a big outbreak of the flu – the dangerous kind. Whole families were getting sick and dying, and the clinic was completely overrun. We had, oh, I don't know, about four or five doctors come up from those big villages, and they sure helped a lot. Brought lots of fancy equipment and vaccines." She made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat and shook her head sadly. "Explains why no one remembers, I tell you. Lots of people were dying and even more were mourning, and he only stayed a little while. Makes sense that not a lot of people would remember that from so long ago."

"But it doesn't say where he transferred to after that," Sakura told her, distressed and disheartened. "How am I supposed to find him now?"

The innkeeper frowned, deep lines forming at the corner of her mouth. She bent a bit and peered at the paper in the girl's hands, her eyes searching the lines of text just as Sakura had done. "Well…" she began, thinking hard, "does it say where he came from?"

Surprised she hadn't thought of that herself, Sakura quickly scanned the page, but found that there was nothing on it that indicated what village he had come from. Frowning with disappointment, she fingered the corner of the page – only to feel another piece of paper sliding beneath it. Eyebrows raised and breath held, the ten year old flipped the page. On it there was only a small line of text, apparently a run-on from the first page that didn't fit that had been printed on its own separate sheet.

Place of Origin:, it read, Konoha.

.

After discovering where her father had come from, Karin decided it was as good a time as any to let Sakura digest all the information on her own for a bit. It couldn't have been easy for a girl her age to take all this in – and to be alone, on top of that – so Karin tried her best to let her adjust at her own pace. Besides, she had to get back to work.

Taking her heavy coat and gloves off, the matron donned her apron and began to make her rounds through the common room, picking up dishes and scrubbing tables, chatting with the regulars and delivering food. It wasn't until she glanced back at the table in the corner that she remembered the shinobi she had seen earlier, and she immediately cursed her own forgetful nature and set aside the tub she had been filling with dishes to approach the small table. It seemed that one of the men left when she wasn't paying attention, but the other remained – a cup of tea set before him, his back to the wall, and his head bowed over a small book.

"Good evening, Shinobi-san!" she greeted cheerfully, as she approached, wiping her hands on her apron. The man was a strange one, with a shock of silver hair shooting up from his head, one eye covered, and a mask covering the rest, but Karin shrugged the weirdness off. Shinobi all look a little odd, she had decided long ago. If they don't look like they could rip your throat out with their teeth, they look like they could run off and join the circus at any time.

The man glanced up from his book and gave a small nod, his one visible eye creasing with a smile over the top of his book. "Good evening," he replied evenly.

"Are you finding everything to your liking?" Karin asked, smiling widely. "Can I get you anything more to eat or drink? Maybe some more tea for you?" Shinobi may look strange, but they paid well, and usually didn't skimp on ordering plenty of alcohol and food while they were there. They weren't always the friendliest bunch, but it was always good to have that little boost to their income outside of the regular customers.

"Ah, no, thank you," the man answered politely, waving one gloved hand casually. "My tea here is just fine."

"You sure?" she pestered good naturedly, putting her hands on her round hips. "We've got some really tasty pastries back in the kitchen, and we're famous for our sake, you know. Best you'll find in a hundred leagues, I'd wager." She knew she was needling him, but it wouldn't be the first time her nagging had gotten them a bit more in the bank.

Unfortunately, this particular ninja didn't look like he was going to bite. "Nah, thanks," he said, waving away her offers as he returned his gaze to the pages of his book. "I'll just stick with my tea." Karin sighed gustily with disappointment, but otherwise decided to let it go. He looked like he didn't want to be bothered, and nothing good ever came of pestering a shinobi too much.

"Alright, alright," she allowed, stepping back. "Just give me a holler if you change your mind, Shinobi-san." She caught his nod and began to walk away, ready to pick up her tub and start collecting a few more empty dishes from the tables, but stopped when a thought occurred to her. Turning on her heel to face the man again, she narrowed her eyes at the symbol on his odd little headband.

"Say…" she began, much to his obvious exasperation. The man heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the woman once more, what little she could see of his expression telling her that he wished she would just hurry up and say what she had to say so he could go back to his reading. Undeterred by his obvious disinterest, the woman ploughed on ahead. "That forehead thing you wear – I don't have a head for symbols, but aren't you from one of those big villages?"

"Yes," he answered, his tone almost bored as he reached up to scratch his head, a yawn pulling at his mouth beneath the mask.

Needling a bit more, she asked, "Which one is it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Ah," he sighed out, lifting his book once more as he suspected she would leave once he gave her his answer. "That would be Konoha."

The gasp of pleasure and excitement that left her quickly dispelled any and all hopes he had of getting back to his book. "Konoha!" she exclaimed, stepping up to his table once more, unintentionally pushing herself into his personal space as she leaned down to tell him something that he highly doubted was important. "Oh, that is just perfect! Absolutely perfect! Oh, this could not have worked out any better!" Taking a calming breath, the woman gathered her wits and clasped her hands to her fluttering heart. "See, Shinobi-san, I found this little girl the other day – a sweet thing, just sitting in the snow with nary a sweater or a parent in sight. I brought her in and nursed her good, and it turns out she's looking for her father. Well, I had never heard of this man she spoke of, but just today I went into the clinic, see, and got the file of a man who was a relief doctor. Turns out he's her father! Wonderful, isn't it? Well, he's not from here, see? He's actually from Konoha!"

From the wary look in the man's eye, anyone could tell he knew where she was going with this. But she did not seem to notice, and instead steamrolled on. "She's really a sweet thing – always minds her manners, and even tried to pay me, bless her heart. She couldn't be more than ten or so, and she's been sick with the flu since she got here some weeks ago, but she's up and moving now. She needs to get back to Konoha, to find her family, see?"

Here, she paused, and the man took that as his cue to try and shut down whatever ideas she had bouncing around in that head of hers as quickly as possible. "Listen, I can't really take a little girl along with me, I-"

"Oh, but sure you can!" she cried indignantly. "She's really no hassle at all, I swear! She's even got her own little pack and everything. All ready to go, that one." It wasn't that she was eager to foist the girl off, but if there was any way for her to help Sakura find her father, then she was damn well going to do it. Karin herself had been a lost little girl once, and she wouldn't stand for Sakura going through the same thing all alone if she could help it. Before he could interject, the matron waved her hands in front of her in an appeasing gesture and tried not talk at such a rapid, excited pace, afraid of scaring him away. "Okay, okay, just hear me out now. Sakura is very sweet and very lost, and she's just trying to find her daddy. If I let her, she'd be out in that storm right now, on her way to your country on her own. I just want her to get there safe, see? How about you just come talk to her, hm? If you really think you can't take her back with you, that's okay. But I don't want you to say no before you meet her."

The man made to shake his head, trying to find a way out of this one, but Karin quickly cut him off. "She's only just over there," she told him, pointing behind her to the back of Sakura's chair in front of the fire. "Please, Shinobi-san, just come meet her. It won't take you but a moment. And- and if you don't take her, I'll even give you a free cup of sake for your trouble!"

It was obvious to anyone who looked at the duo in the corner that the woman was not going to give up until she got her way. She was determined, and the man was clearly worn down by the constant chatter, so it did not take long for him to give a weary sigh, a slow and reluctant nod, and to close his book mournfully. "No promises," he muttered from under his mask as he slowly stood up from his perfectly comfortable seat.

Beaming with victory, Karin replied, "No, no, of course not, Shinobi-san!" The woman clapped her hands together excitedly and began to lead him over to Sakura's little nest in front of the fire. "Sakura," she sang as she circled around to the front of her chair. "I've brought someone who might be able to escort you to your father's village!"

The little girl's nose was buried in the file, her face completely obscured by it, until she finally registered what the woman had said. "What?" she gasped, dropping the file into her lap to look up at whoever Karin was talking about.

Their reactions were instantaneous and identical.

Both the ninja and the ten year old froze in their spots, their bodies going as rigid as the stone of the mountains around them, and both were oblivious as Karin continue to chatter on beside them. Sakura's flushed cheeks drained of all their rosy color, her hands trembled, adrenalin rushed through her veins, and suddenly she was back in the damp tunnels of her home, a kunai pressed to her throat. This man – she knew this man. How could she forget him? He wore a mask at the time, some sort of hideous, painted animal she could not make out in the dark, but that shock of silver hair, that eye, the lanky stature, all of it was identical to the man who had said those horrible things about her family, to the man who shoved that terrible, terrible book in her arms.

"…but I feel so silly, I didn't even get his name!" Karin was saying, laughing at herself as she was completely oblivious to the tension between the man and child. Their eyes were locked, unmoving, Sakura's wide with stricken fear, his narrowed in calm calculation. Unconsciously, one hand drifted toward a pouch on his leg, preparing for anything. "What is it again, Shinobi-san?"

A long moment passed, and Sakura could swear that she felt her heart stop, her blood freeze in her veins, and her lungs squeeze themselves into little grape-sized pouches in her chest. I'm going to die, she thought for the second time that day, her mind frantic. I knew it! I knew someone would find me! If she could have, she would have sunk further into the loveseat, pulled the quilt over her head, and prayed for him to leave her alone in the most cowardly way, but as it was, her limbs were locked with debilitating fear, and so she stayed right where she was.

Slowly, deliberately, the shinobi passed his fingers over his pouch – a clear warning – and reached behind him, grasping a plain wooden chair and dragging it close to Sakura's tattered, cushioned one, much to her horror. "Kakashi," he finally answered, tone deceptively bland. "My name is Kakashi."

A/N: Well, this is for everyone who reviewed. For everyone who took the time to send me a PM, and for everyone who encouraged me to continue, here on FF and on Tumblr. I did not think I would ever pick this up again. I have a lot of reasons why, and anyone who messaged me knows why, but you know what I did today? I went and reread all the chapters, and then I went and read through every single review. I read all your kind words, all your sweet encouragement, and I went, "Fuck it." So this is for all for all of you. I'm picking up where I left of, ignoring all that has happened in canon since I've been away, without a beta (hey, want a job? PM me!), and trying to get my feet wet again. You guys can judge if I'm successful or not.

I've been out of the game for some three years now, so I don't even know if I'm spelling names correctly now, but we'll give it a whirl, yeah? If I've messed up here at all (again, no more beta), drop me a line and let me know. I'll go in and fix it right away.

I hope you enjoy it!