She was hungry.

Books were laid out on the table among a mess of papers. Several were guides to maintaining chakra control, supplementing the wide array of medical tomes Shizune had graciously lended to the cause. Each one would eventually be read cover-to-cover. She realised this with some dismay; for the past week, Sakura had been learning the rudiments of medicine from the Hokage's assistant. It had been nothing but the principles, of course. No hands-on training yet until she had fully researched the art of basic medicine. And while Sakura had always held a fondness in her heart for reading, endless research was grating on her nerves. She had been cooped up in the Hokage's library for hours, her eyes straining over each page with nothing but the data-books in front of her and on the shelves for company.

Her only small comfort was knowing that the Hokage intended to train her tomorrow—not just theory and principles, actual medical ninjutsu. The thought was enough to tide the student over for her bouts in the books, but her patience was wearing a bit thin. She supposed, though, that she should be honoured one of the Legendary Sannin had agreed to train her at all. It crossed her mind for a moment, before it died.

No, it had been too long to still be grateful. She had earned the right to be impatient, god dammit.

Sakura sighed, not for the first time. It was stuffy in there, and it was almost dusk. Shizune had promised to bring her some food, but that had been almost an hour ago. No doubt Tsunade had roped her into helping with (doing) the paperwork. In fact, she was probably sipping sake leisurely at her desk while Sakura pored over her books. With a twinge of anger at the woman who was now her master, Sakura slammed the book shut. She had the sudden urge to get out of this room and eat. But before she could make her way to the door, a haggard Shizune burst into the room.

"Oh! Sakura! You're still here! Thank god!" She made her way to the table, offering the medic-nin-in-training a gentle smile. It was then that Sakura noticed the box of takeaway she carried, eyeing it greedily. "Sorry it took so long, I had to reorganise the files Tsunade-sama knocked over this morning."

They both chuckled a bit, recalling the Hokage's punch which had scored yet another hole in her office wall. It had sent a file cabinet flying across the room from the resulting shock wave. Tsunade could be angered by the slightest provocation, but the latest unsatisfactory mission report from some of her chuunin had been a relatively minor offence. Sakura remembered the two nameless men practically cowering in the aftermath as they tried to sustain the Hokage's death glare. Of course, she had calmed down considerably after that, but that didn't help the file cabinet. The poor, poor file cabinet.

Shizune set the container down on the mess of papers as Sakura descended on it. It was a simple bowl of noodles with a side of some sticks from the dango shop, but it was plenty enough for her. She popped a dango in her mouth right off the bat, savouring its sweetness as her temporary teacher continued speaking.

"Anyway, do you know what was in that cabinet?" Shizune had rounded the table, and was currently studying which volume had been last opened.

Sakura shook her head, her mouth full of dumpling.

Shizune smiled. "Didn't think so!" She flipped open the book, searching for a certain chapter, it seemed. "Well, those files were all the latest mission records, and it got me thinking about how essential your medical training is. Once you know the basics, you'll already be a huge help to your team—yet it's imperative that you know as much as possible." She spoke in a rapid tone, excitedly hurrying through her speech as Sakura tried to comprehend what she was getting at. She was still flipping through the book. "Right now you're studying all the basics, and I know pretty soon Tsunade-sama will have you actively engaging in medicine as her apprentice, but—I know you're capable enough for it right now, and I think—"

"You want to teach me hands-on ninjutsu now?" she began slowly, a dango stick hanging out of her mouth.

"Yes! I felt the sudden urge to teach!" Shizune appeared to have finally found the chapter she was looking for. She flipped the book around so Sakura could see: it read Different Blood Types and Effects on Chakra. She simply stared at the chapter title for a moment before shifting her narrowed eyes over to Shizune.

"Tsunade-sama is drunk, isn't she." Her tone was devoid of question.

The Hokage's assistant hung her head in shame. "Yes."

"She probably won't be able to train me tomorrow, will she."

"No."

"And you felt guilty, so you decided you'd train me yourself while she's hungover."

"Yes."

Not for the first (or second) time that day, Sakura sighed. "I read that chapter about different blood types. Why do you want me to look at it again? It seemed too advanced for simple ninjutsu."

Shizune had picked herself back up from her shame surprisingly fast, trading her glum expression instead for one of enthusiasm. "Oh, in a way, I suppose it is. But it was one of the first things Tsunade-sama taught me, and I think you'll find it's vital to a lot of the practices you'll learn soon." Shizune paused for a moment, glancing at the medical papers on the table. They were both seated in the library, the heap of books between them getting in the way of Sakura's food. She nibbled at another dango stick as she opened the container of noodles, rummaging through it for the utensils held within. "What do you remember from that chapter?"

"Hmm." Sakura ripped open the package and broke apart her chopsticks. "Something about how the flow of chakra within the body differs slightly between the blood types, and how the chakra flow of the medical shinobi can affect the healing of the patient." She took a moment to stuff her mouth with noodles. "I think it said that the same blood type has a better connection."

Shizune nodded. "Right. For me, since I have Type A blood, my chakra works best in tandem with a patient who is also a Type A."

"But...how are you supposed to heal people in the field if you don't know what blood type they are? It won't work?" She continued slurping noodles.

"That's exactly what you need to work out. Just because your blood types are different doesn't mean you can't heal them; it just means you won't heal as efficiently. Usually this isn't a problem for flesh wounds, but once you get into the internal organs and bruising, you need to keep their blood in mind."

Sakura felt her brow digging a trench in her wide forehead. "But why does it matter?"

Shizune grinned. Apparently teaching was something she was all too eager to do. "Think about it: your chakra is reaching into their body, mending muscle and bone together and making blood flow return to normal. You need an intimate understanding of that chakra you're using, and the chakra they're using. Everybody's chakra is different; I'm sure you knew that. But it matters a lot in medical ninjutsu—more than people think. Blood type is just a part of that. It's not like you just stick your hands on someone and your chakra instantly heals them." She laughed.

The pink-haired girl was chewing on the tip of one of her chopsticks, seeming to consider this for a second. "So...in order to heal somebody, I need to stay aware of their different chakra. I need a way to get around the small differences in order to get the best results."

"Mhm. Exactly."

"Hmm." She had finished all her food, and now was left with nothing to keep her from talking. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, there's not much we can do tonight, but I can at least advise you to keep it in mind for the time being. Tomorrow I'll get you started on your first...patient, if Tsunade-sama is too 'hung' up on her problems." Shizune felt reluctant to inform her that her first patient would be a slimy fish drowning in the abundance of air, but was not above making a pun at the Godaime's expense. All she got for her effort, however, was an unreadable expression and a polite chuckle.

Shizune rose, deciding to leave everything as it was in the library. After all, there would be nobody else coming in here until tomorrow morning. Sakura pushed her chair out from the table as she stretched, rising to carry the empty food container out the door.

"Good night Shizune-senpai."

Shizune had been absently gazing at the bookshelves which lined the walls. But then a thought struck her. "Sakura, wait a second! How silly of me!" She stepped over to the data-book section of the library, her fingertip grazing the copious collections which made up an entire enormous wall of the library—shinobi data, Sakura saw. They appeared to be listed alphabetically as Shizune systematically found each folder: one, two, three, four. Double-checking each folder, Shizune turned to her impromptu student and thrust them into her surprised hands.

"Here. Before tomorrow, I want you to study these. Think of it as a supplement to your research. After your regular training, come back to the Hokage tower tomorrow evening and I'll try to show you the importance of what you've learned." She smiled, her eyes crinkling in a way which oddly befit the tired and half-crazed attendant.

It didn't even occur to Sakura when she was handed those folders that Shizune had just done something against the laws of the village. There wasn't a single thought about how all shinobi records were private to all but a select few. All that entered her mind at the time was pure wonderment and disbelief as she was handed Team Seven's medical records.

She still couldn't believe it. She was sitting cross-legged, simply staring at the four simple brown folders arranged in a semicircle around her on the bed. Her morals had kicked in halfway home, and it had almost been enough to send her marching back with folders in tow.

Almost.

Alas, her curiosity won out in the end. She wasn't even sure what she was so excited for; they were simply medical records. Albeit, they were her team's medical records, but there wasn't a whole lot she was expecting from them. Except...

Sasuke-kun! Her heart almost leapt at the idea of learning more about her brooding teammate. He was just so hot! Any information on Sasuke would put her way ahead on Ino. The thought of usurping that blonde pig as rightful wife to Sasuke was enough to make her giddy. She blushed and giggled at the simple thought. Here it was. She reached out for his file once the giggling had subsided, but then she caught herself in a rare moment of uncharacteristic duty. Her heart said to disregard the job, but her mind firmly disagreed.

No, she thought. Shizune-senpai trusted me with these files for a reason. I need to stay on task!

Huffing a bit, she decided to set aside Sasuke's file for last. It was only fitting that Sasuke-kun would be her prize in the end, after all. And, she supposed, it was also fitting if she began with her own file. That being said, she withdrew hers from the circle and opened it.

Inside was a copy of her ninja registration I.D. photo from when she had graduated. It was a simple picture that stunk of immaturity. She had her hands clasped in front of her in an attempt of demure femininity, her long pinkish locks drawn gently around her shoulders and her chin tucked in what she had thought was an attractive gaze. She remembered posing for the camera that day; it was a humid and sticky summer day, and she had had trouble getting her hair to lie flat and not stuck in the sweat on her face. Despite the obvious day to not be photogenic, she had not let it stop her from attempting to be attractive.

The reality was, of course, far less than flattering, but she'd rather not get into that. So, scoffing at her past self, she moved down the page.

Name: Haruno, Sakura. Sex: Female. Birthday: March 28. All obvious stuff. A bit farther was information from her latest check-up. Height: 149cm. Weight: (here she mumbled grumpily). Blood Type: O. Ah. So she was Type O, huh?

Based on the medical texts she had read, Type O was a general donor. Anybody could accept her blood, and she smiled at the thought of being able to give her friends a blood transfusion should they need it. But then she shuddered at the thought of what would have to happen to make them need it.

Her eyes skimmed further down the page. It had a brief list of her immediate family, and then a list of any doctor's appointments or hospital stays. Nothing of note, and obviously nothing which she hadn't already known. Her parents held no hidden secrets of her birthright; she had no medical complications, no illnesses, no fantastical abilities. She wasn't sure to be proud or disappointed of her parents' having had regular civilian lifestyles. Aside from the few documents of a particularly nasty shuriken injury she had gotten from her early days at the academy, there was nothing in her medical file which gave any hint she was a kunoichi of Konoha. There was a cluster of papers behind the medical page, all detailing mission reports which she obviously remembered; no use going through those. She wistfully gazed at the miniscule amount of missions—at least three-fourths of which were D-rank.

With a dramatic sigh, she closed the folder and set it down. The next one was Naruto's. Fighting down any remaining inner battles she had previously had about looking at her teammate's file, she finally gave in and peered inside. She gave a bark of laughter before containing herself (it was the dead of night, after all).

Naruto's ninja registration I.D. photo. Oh, my. He was masked by white paint and peppered with red symbols, looking for the life of him like some sort of demon. It was only accentuated by the sneer he graced the camera with and the exaggerated fighting pose he held. Her original reaction of mirth at the ridiculousness of his picture quickly gave way to annoyance, and then to anger. She felt her hand curling into a fist, rearing to punch the nearest living thing—-preferably Naruto. But, being nowhere around him, she settled for a quick punch to her pillow before going back to skim down the paper.

Name: Uzumaki, Naruto. Sex: Male. Birthday: October 10. Height: 146.7cm. Weight: 40.5kg. Blood Type: B.

The rest of his file was blank. Nothing besides his latest required check-up from before the chuunin exam. Puzzled, she tried flipping the page over. But there was nothing on that side, either. There was no list of his family, or of any hospital stays.

Sakura knew he had no parents or family in the village, yet it was reasonable enough to assume that they had left some sort of paper trail behind. She stared at the paper, her brows slightly furrowed. It was...troubling. What did it mean? Was Naruto so much of an orphan that nobody knew who his parents were? Did he ever have any adult in his life? Perhaps there was no list of hospital stays...simply because there had never been anyone around to take him.

She couldn't keep the pang of sympathy from her chest. Sure, Naruto was an annoying knuckle-head, but that didn't mean she didn't care about him. He was a friend now. A comrade. She had seen from their missions together that he really did care about her and the rest of their team.

Of course, she would never admit that to his face.

Since his file had been practically barren, aside from the photo and the packet of mission reports in the back (all of which she already knew about), Sakura resigned herself to replacing it in the circle between her folder and the next in line. She held her breath as she eyed the third folder: Kakashi's. How long had they known the man? On the first day they met him, he refused to tell them anything but his name.

Looking back, she supposed that they never really knew him at all. He hadn't been forward in his introduction, and they had never really pushed it. They supposed he merely kept to himself, or he just didn't feel comfortable letting them get to know him. They may be naïve, but they weren't idiots; they recognised the secrecy of the legendary jounin, and respected him all the more for it. They accepted that he didn't reveal any part of himself—not even his face- yet they trusted him implicitly. So how in the world could she ever betray his trust and go through his personal records?

Apparently very easily, she admitted to herself. She hung her head in shame, but recovered quickly as she let her eyes wash over her teacher's file.

It was packed with info. Very much unlike hers or Naruto's, the entire first page was almost covered completely in writing. She greedily drank in the information which Kakashi had been so eager to hide.

His ninja I.D. photo was plain and simple. It looked like the sensei she saw every day. His right eye was turned in an upward crescent, in that signature fashion she knew so well. He had a way of expressing himself amazingly through just the use of one eye and a partially uncovered eyebrow. An upturned eye? Happy Kakashi. A narrowed eye? Angry Kakashi. A half-lidded eye? Kakashi.

Name: Hatake, Kakashi. Sex: Male. Birthday: September 15. Height: 181cm. Weight: 67.5kg. Blood Type: O.

She stared at the simple information. It was so simple—so deceptively simple—that it seemed so completely unreal. There were more dead facts about Kakashi-sensei here than she had ever seen before. They had the same blood type to boot, just to accentuate the simplicity of it all. What followed after that basic info was a list of family relations, but there was only one which Sakura even recognised: Hatake, Sakumo. Father.

Oh, no. The name immediately set off a million different bells in her head. Sakura was a bookworm, top of her class in the theoretical art of ninpo. How could she forget the tale of the White Fang of Konoha? It had been touched upon in the Academy a couple times; the lesson Iruka-sensei taught was to be mindful of the consequences of your actions, though Sakura knew it was deeper than that. The first time she had heard the name of the White Fang, she had been torn between siding with him for saving his friends, and siding with the village because of all the deaths he later caused due to his mission's failure. It had stuck out in her mind as the first time the Ninja Law conflicted with her beliefs.

Of course, now that she was a student of Kakashi, those unsteady beliefs had turned into rock-solid ones: those who disregard the rules are scum, but those who disregard their friends are even worse than scum. She smiled to herself. It was the first time that the name "Hatake" had ever connected for her. It seemed so obvious now. So the White Fang was his father, huh...it makes sense, then, that he went with what his father believed.

But it hit her chest with a pang once she remembered that Sakumo Hatake had been disgraced in the village before committing suicide. And from the looks of the dates, he had killed himself when Kakashi was only six years old.

Kakashi had had no other family at the time. Images of Sasuke, and then Naruto flashed through her brain before she shook herself of them.

No...Kakashi-sensei turned out okay. So will they. Yet a twinge of guilt at still having a loving family to come home to still played at her conscience. She stared at the name of Sakumo Hatake for a minute longer, then braced herself for the mess of writing which lay beneath. It was a brief list of hospital stays, a few of which she had been present for. None of the dates seemed particularly noteworthy to her, though there were notes about his status written in the margins. One of the earliest stays had 'Sharingan transplanted' next to it. She felt her heartbeat quicken.

She flipped the page over, and was greeted by a new sheet detailing his Sharingan eye.

This. This was what she had been both hesitant and elated to find the truth about.

Ignoring the basic necessities adorning the top of the page as a part of the protocol, she jumped right into the doctor's lengthy notes. 'Patient returned from mission with a Sharingan eye having been transplanted into left eye socket in the field. Medic-nin on scene did fine job with transplant. Kannabi Bridge area site of transplant. No infection. Little intervention required and eye should heal normally on own. A scar cannot be avoided. Patient will have trouble adjusting to eye, but it shouldn't be rejected outright. Chakra levels a concern: patient cannot deactivate Sharingan. Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.'

Two pictures had been included: one was of Kakashi sitting in a hospital bed staring up at the camera. He was so young-looking. Bandages were wrapped around the left half of his face. The one uncovered eye was...it was dead to the world. Kakashi stared up without really seeing, a dark circle in the indentation beneath his eye. A plate of food had been placed on the table beside him, though none of it had been touched.

'Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.'

From the image Sakura was seeing, this definitely seemed to be the truth. He just looked so sad, and so pitiful, that it hardly seemed at all like the Kakashi-sensei she knew. It was hard to match this Kakashi up to the one who had been her sensei for almost a year now. And he was only twelve years old, by god.

She peeled her eyes from the first picture and turned them instead to the second. This one appeared to be a close-up of the Sharingan. The sclera of it was networked by agitated veins, the skin around it swollen and red. The slash across his eye (which, now that Sakura really looked at, made her wince at how much it looked like it hurt) was scabbed over and stitched in places- haphazardly, and likely done in the field as well. It looked deep; much deeper than the small scar had ever let on. The Sharingan looked forward, two tomoe speckling the blood-red surface.

Wait...two? Kakashi-sensei's Sharingan has three dots...

The whole eye was puzzling, and much like it would in real life, the pictured Sharingan seemed to enrapture her, hold her tight in a genjutsu. But in the end, it simply was a picture of a transplanted eye. And the longer Sakura looked at it, the more she wondered just where it had come from. An Uchiha, obviously...but from who? The notes from Kakashi's hospital stay had said that the 'site of transplant' was Kannabi Bridge.

So what was it? A mission? Realisation dawned on her that she held all the answers she was likely to ever find. Flipping quickly to the packet of missions in the back, she found it to be a very, very large stack of papers. Fortunately, they had been organised according to rank. And if Kakashi's eye had been sacrificed on that mission, then it better have been at least an A-rank.

She found it relatively quickly, considering. It was one of the lengthier reports, and had a paper clip holding the pages together. The first page was a list of the shinobi assigned to the mission, with a picture held underneath.

Minato Namikaze was a name which immediately jumped out at her. Questions ran through at a thousand miles an hour before she remembered belatedly that the Yondaime had been her sensei's sensei. Minato had been the jounin team leader on this mission, his bright yellow hair standing up on the ends and reminding Sakura of somebody she knew.

Next was Kakashi Hatake. She noted the rank listed beside his name: jounin. Her eyes widened; he couldn't have been much older that twelve, going by the dates. It lined up perfectly with the dates on his hospital record, reaffirming that this was indeed the Kannabi Bridge mission. He was dressed in an odd-looking uniform with a sheathed sword strapped to his back. But she couldn't take her eyes off his two deep, dark eyes. They were half-lidded in much the same way her own sensei's were, yet in this photo he seemed much more...wary. Much less likely to let his guard down.

Third was Rin Nohara. The name didn't ring any bells, though from her description she had been a medic-nin at a chuunin level. And this girl. She was a part of his genin team, wasn't she? Her mind was already dreading the answer. And she had to transplant Kakashi's eye...I could never do that to someone I care about...I wouldn't be able to bear it. She was smiling in the picture, two purple markings on each cheek in a fashion reminding Sakura vaguely of the Inuzuka. But she wasn't looking at the camera; her eyes were instead raised to a certain recently-promoted jounin. Even from the time Sakura was in, staring at those eyes from so many years ago was almost like looking in a mirror. She knew all too well what that look meant, and frowned at Kakashi's cold stare toward the camera. She knew what that one meant, too.

Finally, there was a fourth name: Obito Uchiha. Sakura found herself sighing again. So that was the boy whose Sharingan had been ripped from him. What had compelled him to give Kakashi his eye? He looked so whole and happy in this photo, with two dark eyes hidden behind a pair of bright orange goggles staring back at her. Both his hands were fiddling with his goggles, and a broad grin was stretched across his face. He was like a more eccentric-looking Naruto, if that were even possible. He had been a chuunin as well, and a note had been made stating that he hadn't awakened his Sharingan yet. At least, not before the beginning of the mission.

Sakura flipped the cover over, seeing a brief mission objective and preliminary report on the whereabouts and current conditions of the bridge. All of it was written by an official at the Hokage tower. She idly wondered if it had been the Sandaime Hokage, recalling the funeral which had been held several weeks ago after the fiasco at the end of the chuunin exams.

Glancing further down the page, a mission report was written in the hand of Namikaze. It detailed the mission which had transpired all those years ago.