17. Seedling

The ancient grandfather clock down the hall chimed 10 times as they sat down for tea.

"Alright. Let me get this straight. You're searching for an apprentice?" demanded Deidara.

Yarrow. Elderberries. Sprigs of drying mint hung in bundles from the rafters. Itachi's ring hit the side of the teacup in a tiny clink. His thumb smoothed over the porcelain handle, tracing the gold paint. Then he stared his friend in the eyes for a moment before he took a sip of his warm drink.

The glass orb sitting on the mantle was murky. The inside contents swirled around, dark and cloudy. Deidara pinned his companion with a scrutinizing glare.

"And why, pray tell," Deidara put his hand on his cheek, "would the great necromancer Itachi want to take on an apprentice? After all these years in solitude?"

Itachi raised his eyebrows. Deidara huffed.

"Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're one step away from being a complete hermit. When was the last time you set foot in the Guild to speak to anyone?" Deidara's pointing finger accused him.

"Two years, three months, and thirteen days," replied Itachi without hesitation. Deidara made a sour face.

"And it's vital for magic to pass down in some way. That's how we've always preserved knowledge," added Itachi. Deidara grimaced outright at that. He hated with Itachi was right.

Leaning back against the sofa, he scrutinized the other man's face. He had known Itachi for quite some time. He would almost call Itachi his friend if Itachi weren't such a difficult person to like. Itachi was about as friendly as a plank of wood sometimes.

Deidara sighed.

"Fine. I'll look. No promises," he sniffed before he gathered up his cloak around him and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

There was no word from Deidara for a month. Itachi wasn't particularly heartbroken over this absence. He did occasionally make note of the passing days as he passed by the calendar. But when Deidara reappeared many days later, it was with a proud toss of his head.

"Here," he said, shoving a tiny person at him.

"Whose family did you snatch her from?" questioned Itachi as he caught her. He steadied her by the shoulders, sparing her barely a passing glance. Deidara examined his manicured nails. He shrugged.

"Heard about her from a friend of a friend. Picked her up in an apothecary a few towns owner. Owner was happy to let her go for a few coins," he said.

"Does he own me now?" a little voice asked.

Both men swiveled their heads towards her.

The girl blinked up at him with an unclouded gaze. Maybe from afar he could mistake her as a boy. She was as flat as a board. But up close, with eyes the color of the ocean that stared straight into him, there was no doubting it.

"You're not my property. You're here as my student," Itachi corrected. She blinked a few times.

"Then who owns me?" she queried.

Deidara, grimacing, put on his hat.

"Yeah, that's my cue to leave. Good luck, Uchiha," he said before he swept out the door.

The girl stared up at Itachi.

"You said I'm a student. For what?" she questioned. Sighing, Itachi turned to open up the chest sitting on top of the mantle. He tossed another log into the flames as he stood at the fireplace.

When he turned back to her, he could see a peculiar light in her eyes. Something more than curiosity. A kind of hunger.

"Sorcery. Magic," replied Itachi, gauging her reaction. Her eyebrows rose in that heart-shaped face. There was no fear. And so he turned back to the stand on the mantle. In the wooden claw sat a glass ball, smooth and polished.

"Then…what kind of magic do you do?" she queried in a soft voice. Itachi rubbed the orb once with his palm. The stand latched around the glass, locking it in place. As he turned, he saw a little golden wisp over the girl's shoulder. It noticed him looking and fled off into a corner.

"My name is Itachi and I'm a necromancer. I summon spirits of the dead," he finally answered her.

Hands fisting into her tattered skirt, she stared into his eyes. Trembling but fierce.

"…Can I see?"

A soft smirk left Itachi. As he exhaled through his nose, gray wisps curled out from his breath. They rose up in the air, curling around and condensing into a small cloud. The vague shape of a head and then shoulders darkened inside the mist. And then, a nose, mouth, and then eyes emerged. Hair, spiky and long solidified on his head. Sakura clapped her hands over her mouth when the ethereal figure opened its eyes and yawned.

"Itachi, you again," the man drawled. His gaze was piercing, blood red.

"Who else would it be, Great-Uncle?" sighed Itachi in return.

"Oh, perhaps a busty beauty. Or even a handsome man. I'll take anything at this point- oh. Hello, little one," the man sighed as he noticed Sakura half-cowering behind the armchair.

Itachi drank in her reaction. The tremble of her lips, the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. But she held his gaze, steady as anything.

"H-hello," she squeaked out.

"Would you like a room upstairs or downstairs?" Itachi offered.

Caring for a young girl was unexpectedly difficult, Itachi realized. Money wasn't an issue. However, there were so many little things that piled one on top of the other.

First off, of course, there were the clothes. And the girl seemed to struggle to pick out a simple dress for herself. ("Not 'Girl'. Sakura. I have a name," she sometimes reminded him.) So Itachi selected her clothes for her, hoping that it wouldn't be anything too strange. There was also the matter of arranging a separate bathroom for her, which Itachi only did when the nosy mailman nagged him. So Itachi enchanted the broom closet downstairs to turn it into a bathroom just for her. And then there was her hair, disheveled and tangled. When he asked her what she wanted to do about it, the next morning, she had chopped most of it off with a pair of scissors.

"What did you say to her? Poor little lark," squawked Deidara as he came over to fix the damage as much as he could.

And then there was the matter of Sakura's education. She was an orphan, he found out. Unsurprising. But something twinged in his chest at the thought. But Sakura didn't seem sad. She pointed out that the old man at the apothecary had taken her in. She had learned how to read, write, and do sums to help mind the store. He hadn't been a particularly kind man, but she was fed, clothed, and given a warm place to sleep. And that was more than enough, according to Sakura.

Sakura devoured books. She often read until the candles burned themselves out. And in the afternoons, when Itachi read and wrote in his study, she sat on the stool beside him. She memorized basic incantations- conjuring tiny flames and droplets of water.

Itachi also began tasking her with simple chores. She started with sweeping the floors and wiping the counters. Rinsing off a handful of berries, she stared out the window at the backyard one day.

"Itachi?"

"Hm?" he replied, glancing up from his afternoon tea. Her cup sat across from his, waiting for her. The steam wafted up.

"Who takes care of your garden? Is it you?" inquired Sakura. She turned to him, hands tucked deep in the pockets of her apron. Of course, she was referring to the small patch of plants growing by the kitchen window. There were a few things that he needed often, such as herbs.

Itachi set his cup down in the saucer with a quiet clink. He folded his hands under his chin. With just his eyes, he stared at the spoon sitting in the sugar bowl. When he looked up, the spoon followed. Twirling and dipping, it deposited a cube into her tea.

"Black magic is the force of will. It isn't only used for necromancy and destruction. Before you arrived, I used magic to handle all these chores," Itachi explained. Her eyes widened, mouth falling open in an o.

"Then could I be in charge of the garden from now on? I'm good with plants, I promise," she pleaded, hands clasping together. Itachi blinked. He hadn't even considered saying no to her, but this was new. Desperation. She rarely asked for anything.

"Of course. Just remember not to overwater the roses," he replied. Her smile almost blinded him. Childish and sticky sweet like candy. She immediately ran outside, forgetting her tea altogether. And Itachi finished his cup, listening to her running around on the grass for a long time.

They slowly learned what it meant to fall into a routine. Sakura woke long before him, tip-toeing into the dew-soaked garden to say hello to the budding flowers. She made a clumsy breakfast and tea just in time for Itachi to make his bleary way down the stairs. He chomped down her burnt toast without complaint. Maybe gave a gentle reminder to let the tea leaves steep for a little while longer.

She began to go out on little errands to the town. And while Itachi preferred not to go with her, he sent his shadow. It skirted around her feet, tugging her in the right direction. And she always returned from these trips with her cheeks blooming with color. Her arms heavy with bags of goods.

"And you know, the traveling merchant gave me this!" she explained as she washed her hands in the kitchen. Sometimes it was a handful of seeds. Other times it was a wooden carving or a colorful ribbon.

There was always a vase of fresh roses in the foyer. Itachi noticed this several times in passing before he began to worry.

"Sakura," he said from the doorway. Her head popped up from behind a thick patch of hollyhocks. The flowers bloomed white, purple, and pink with yellow centers. She had brought the roots wrapped in a damp towel, her eyes sparkling.

"A gift from the florist!" she had exclaimed before running off to plant them.

And now these flowers stood tall. Clustered together like gossiping friends.

"Sakura, I couldn't help but notice those roses by the door," he began. Sakura wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Dirt smudged on her cheek.

"Oh those? Aren't they pretty?" she replied, smiling. She rose to her feet, dusting off her apron. In her pockets were bunches of white flowers that clustered together.

"They make the house smell so nice, don't you think?" she went on as she ran up to him. Reaching into her apron, she pulled out the flowers. Smooth and white with little black stamens.

"Look, it's hawthorn! Deidara told me that they would attract fairies," Sakura exclaimed. Before Itachi could protest, she pushed the flowers into his hand. The color immediately leached from them. The petals turned brown, shriveling as the curled. Even the stems grew black, flaking into dust at his touch.

Sakura gasped.

"Oh no," she said. Her fingers curled around his.

"I've told you before, Sakura. Black and white magic can't mix. I can't touch living plants. I drink the life right out of them," Itachi reminded her. She tilted her head back to look into his face.

"What about me?" she questioned. She brought his hand up to touch the side of her face. A small smile pulled at his mouth. He touched her chin with his thumb before lowering his hand.

"People are fine," he answered.

"Ah, but the roses," Itachi then said, remembering why he had even come to her in the first place.

"Of course I don't mind you using a few of them for decoration, but we need these roses for tea. I want you to be a little more careful about how many roses you pick in the future."

Sakura's nose wrinkled.

"But those are the same roses, Itachi," she told him. Itachi blinked several times.

"You mean from the same bush?" he asked. Sakura shook her head.

"No, I mean those are the same roses every day. They fell off the bush and they looked so pitiful so I brought them inside. I change the water for them and I talk to them and they seem to be doing just fine," she explained.

Itachi knelt before her, hands on her shoulders.

"Sakura, those roses have been there for three months," he reminded her. Sakura nodded.

"And you're not lying?" he queried. Sakura looked outright insulted at that. She pulled out of his grasp with a sniff.

"I'm not lying! The roses like me. They say so!" she insisted as she turned to grab the watering can. Itachi sat back on his heels for a long time, watching her run around the garden. Perhaps this was a question that Deidara could answer. He made a note to write him a letter soon.

Under Sakura's care, the little patch of herbs and flowers in the garden exploded with colors. It really did seem like they liked her. Maybe it was his imagination, but patches of wildflowers seemed to grow in the spots that she liked to stand.

"Itachi, can I ask you something?" she asked one afternoon, her mouth full of sandwich. Itachi raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to chew and swallow. She leaned across the table, elbows resting on the surface. When he gave her elbow a light tap, she dropped her hands into her lap.

"Could you…I mean, only if it isn't any trouble, maybe summon your Great-Uncle again? I would like to speak with him," she said with those huge eyes glittering with excitement. Again, another favor that cost him nothing. Of course he obliged. But she showered him with thanks, cheeks growing bright pink in all her excitement. Chin in his hand, he watched her bounce around and gave a soft snort of laughter. Wheeling around, she pointed her finger at him.

"Ah! Itachi! No elbows on the table!" she exclaimed.

That night, Itachi summoned the spirit of his Great-Uncle, the crass womanizer. He lingered there, waiting for Sakura to speak. But she was suddenly quiet, her fingers tugging at her skirts as she stole sidelong glances his way. Finally, she leaned in toward the spirit. Madara leaned down to listen to her, arms crossed over his chest. A great leer erupted on his face as he looked up at Itachi.

"Leave. This is a private conversation," cackled Madara.

Banished out of his own living room, Itachi skulked around in his study upstairs for a while. He waited for close to an hour, but there was no tingle to let him know that Madara had crossed back over to the other side. Itachi was confident that a bound spirit like Madara could not harm Sakura. He couldn't help but start to worry, though.

He made his way down the stairs, avoiding the creakiest ones. He could hear the low murmur of voices, but it was too indistinct to make out anything.

Itachi looked around the corner, keeping his movements as quiet as possible. Sakura was curled up in the armchair, a large tome open in her lap. Madara spoke. Her pen danced across the pages. It paused, scribbling out misspellings and slashing in long strokes as it underlined. She lifted her head to look at Madara as he spoke. Sometimes she nodded. Her eyes sparkled. She asked him questions, hands gesturing as she tried to explain things. Madara's head tilted, his hand under his chin as he considered.

For a moment, Madara's gaze met his and the old man grinned again. He flapped a hand at him while Sakura wasn't looking. Suddenly feeling ashamed, Itachi banged his way to the kitchen to make himself a noisy cup of tea. Madara didn't leave until long after that.

For the next several weeks, Sakura didn't bring up Madara again. Instead, she filled her days with more of the same reading and training. She began to learn how to manipulate light and darkness in small patches. Although Itachi himself couldn't help, she began using books to learn how to brew. The kitchen often filled with smoke at her failed attempts. Itachi learned not to interrupt her when she dumped out her mistakes to try again and again. Instead, leaning against the doorway, he watched. As time passed, the cabinets crowded with her successes. Tinctures and balms. Salves and poultices.

But one morning, when the autumn cool was just beginning to set in, Sakura yelled his name from the backyard. Itachi climbed down the stairs, half-worried. It was rare for her to interrupt him when he was working. His heart was at ease when she ran up to him, laughing and huffing all at once.

"Here!" Sakura announced, thrusting a bunch of flowers toward him. Asters, he noted. Itachi raised his arms away from her.

"Sakura, you know I can't touch those. They'll die," he sighed. How many times had she watched the colorful petals wilt in his tentative grasp? And with each time, it seemed as if a little part of her wilted too with disappointment. With an impatient noise, she pushed them at him more insistently.

"Just take them!" she said sternly. Itachi had little choice but to hold his hands out to accept the soft blooms. And he waited for the fluffy petals to shrivel and blacken against his gloves. But they remained bright in his careful grasp. Sakura smiled up at him.

"I gave them a little something extra so that you could hold them too. They're nice, aren't they?"

Itachi tilted his head, marveling at the small wonder she had created. It was a small piece of sorcery, but also incredibly complex. He himself had only heard bits and pieces of rumors from others about such a spell.

Something occurred to Itachi. His head whipped up to look at Sakura again. She was grinning from ear to ear now.

"Was that why you wanted to speak to Great-Uncle Madara again?" he queried. She nodded.

"If he was also like you, I thought, maybe he would know more about these things," the girl answered.

"He was nice about it," she added almost as an afterthought.

"Did he teach you the spell?"

"No, he just told me about why it happened. I asked the plants to help me with the spell," she corrected with a shrug. Then she turned away from him, bounding back to the flowers. She said something. And Itachi wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't witnessed it himself. As she whispered, the buds on the nearby marigold plant burst into bloom. She looked over her shoulder at him, laughing.

"They said to make them into tea. Would you like some?" she called.

"Gardening?" Deidara repeated. His entire face scrunched up but Itachi nodded as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Would you like to see?" Itachi offered. Deidara raised an eyebrow but set down his teacup anyway. When Itachi had invited him over again, Deidara had initially worried that he had accidentally killed Sakura. Perhaps by forgetting to feed her or something of that nature. Rather, Itachi had opened the door looking more perplexed than Deidara had ever seen him.

They both rose to their feet, walking through the house. They walked into the kitchen. Two wicker baskets sat on the counter, filled to the brim with ripe strawberries.

"Those aren't in season anymore," he remarked. For some reason, Itachi huffed with what sounded like a laugh. He guided Deidara to the door that opened up to the backyard. It was ajar. A small crate of mushrooms propped it open.

Before Itachi could call for her, both men spotted her.

She stood in the middle of the yard, extending her arms. Glowing orbs of gold and white light darted out from the trees. Fairies, likely attracted by all the hollyhock she had planted by the windows. They flitted around her before darting away. Their childish giggles pierced the air.

"Alright! Who wants to grow today? Will you help me make something lovely?" Sakura said.

The dandelions burst, their white seeds scattering in the wind. Sakura giggled as she ran after them. Everywhere her feet touched, sweet clover burst up from the soil. Thin vines of flowers chased after her footsteps. Blooming and withering only to bloom again.

Deidara sucked in a shaky breath between his teeth. Itachi glanced over at his friend, a smile pulling at his lips.

"I thought you found me a little stray kitten. You found me a sorceress instead," remarked Itachi. Deidara simply shook his head, wondering at the shimmer of colors dancing around her.

"Don't be stupid, Itachi. She's not a sorceress. She's a Green Witch. And powerful by the looks of it," chuckled Deidara.

"Green Witch," Itachi repeated. The phrase was somewhat familiar. He looked over at his friend.

"A rare little jewel, she is. Legend has it that green witches are born when a fairy's tear strikes pure water. The children appear one day. No mother. No father," Deidara mused. It should have been obvious- the unusual hair color, the way plants seemed to curl into her as she walked past.

Sakura ran up to them, arms spilling over with bunches of yellow and white daisies.

"Look! Itachi! They helped me grow all these!" Sakura exclaimed. As she moved to shove them into his arms, Deidara reached a hand out.

"Ah, he can't touch….those…" Deidara drifted off as the flowers sat in Itachi's grasp. Hand on his hip, he knocked Itachi in the shoulder once.

"Damn, that's some strong white magic," he muttered.

"Yeah," sighed Itachi in return. He headed inside to find a vase.

Itachi found her outside one day, crouching in the dirt by the old wooden trellis.

They didn't know her birthday so they had picked the first day of spring to measure her years. They had celebrated together six times. Clinking glasses of sweet cordial and naming the constellations.

She often smelled of soil and flowers, though which flowers differed by what was in season at the time. Her hair grew out in soft curls now. It waved over her shoulders and spilled down her back. It seemed that day by day, all her contact with magic was softening her. Molding her into something new.

Itachi reached out for it once on a whim, not even thinking about his actions until his fingers were sliding through her hair. For one icy moment of terror, he thought that she would wilt in his hands too, like the flower that she was named for. But her head only turned toward him, a curious tilt to it. Eyes wide, she only smiled up at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He cleared his throat.

"Are these the honeysuckle you were telling me about?" questioned Itachi. That immediately diverted her attention. The delicate vines followed her coaxing fingers. They crawled up the crisscrossing wood, twining and stretching after her dancing fingertips. Tight green buds burst open into bright pink flowers at intervals.

It was sometimes difficult to locate her in the garden. Her plants had taken over the lawn completely. She was often lost when she crouched down to speak to the flora. As if to kiss her, the stalks bent toward her mouth when she spoke.

Sakura assured him now and again that it was fine for him to touch these plants, at least the ones here at home. There was something special about this place, though. Deidara dropped by every once in a while to get his hands on some flower or herb. He claimed that the ones that Sakura grew were by far the best quality. But even bold Deidara didn't pluck the leaves or petals for himself. He stood in the doorway with Itachi, watching as Sakura did what she did best. It was sacred ground, Deidara sometimes murmured.

She loved the roses at midnight. In the spring, she wandered out of bed, wrapped up in a shawl and holding a lantern in one hand. Barefoot, she ran into the yard, whispering kisses to the blooms. They tilted their heads toward her as she passed. Patches of silvery grass grew in her footprints, dyed in the moonlight.

In the morning, the roses glistened with dew. The petals glowed in the morning stillness. And the whole yard filled with the sweet fragrance of the proud flowers.

He watched these things from his window, mouth soft. He didn't have the heart to explain what she was doing. The terminology for the rituals she carried out without knowledge. A desire to the old archives of the magical guild had given him at least a little insight into what was happening. Green Witches, true and pure, spoke life into nature. They both gave and took energy from the world around them, tides rushing in and out. Strengthening plants with white magic, coaxing them to bloom early or late. These were all things that had once been taught to fledgling witches.

Sakura loved to learn- he knew that. But somehow it seemed like it would ruin the purity for her. Of her simple desire to kiss her friends goodnight.

She grew up, flowering into a woman almost too quickly. She went to bed, awakening with vines of morning glory climbing in through her window. The nightgowns and dresses she first wore grew small on her. The top of her head, which at one point barely reached his chest, soon rose to hit just below his chin.

Somehow, she still smiled up at him with the same sweetness. There was something vaguely wild about her. Not wild in the sense of uncontrollable, but wild in the sense of unsullied by the things of the world. Ephemeral.

As her height grew, so did her opinions. No longer satisfied to say yes with those wide eyes, she loved to bicker about things with him. In particular, her insistence that they not kill any spiders irritated him. The sheer number of legs those creatures used to move made Itachi's skin crawled. Scolding him for his heartlessness, she carried the leggy terrors outside.

On the odd night that they truly fought and she stormed off into the backyard to cool off, Itachi watched the way the grass grew up to shield her. Clover burst up from the ground in her footsteps. Hiding the traces of her until she wandered back on her own. Still scowling, she made a big show of fixing them a pot of tea and sitting down with him. In this way, Itachi always knew that he was forgiven, whether he had been right or wrong.

"Will you ever take me to see the Guild?" she asked, suddenly looking up from his cloak. It had snagged on a corner, leaving a tear the size of his thumb. Itachi lounged on the floor by the fireplace, flipping lazily through the pages of a book. The gentle heat and crackle of the flames lulled him towards sleep. And Sakura sat behind him, her back pressed to his. She hummed as her needle pierced in and out of the fabric. Itachi could have easily sent the cloak to the tailor. Sakura's skill wasn't particularly good. That was one of the only things she hadn't learned to do well during her years with him. But she liked to feel useful, he knew.

Letting out a yawn, he turned back a little to look at her. Sakura leaned over to peer into his face.

"The Guild?" she said again, in case he hadn't heard. Sighing, he turned back to the fire. She lay her cheek on his arm, waiting for the answer.

"I need to take you at some point to file your paperwork with the Guild. Otherwise you'd be unregistered," Itachi answered with obvious reluctance.

"You don't like the Guild. Why?" she probed. Perhaps she had grown too perceptive.

"It's not that I particularly dislike the guild. It's the guild that dislikes me. Black magic isn't thought of too highly even among our kind," explained Itachi. She sagged harder against him, her weight pressing down on his arm.

"Hmm… that's rude," she sniffed. She sat up.

"Why? Did you want to go soon? I would rather take you than have you go alone," he began. But Sakura was already back to mending his cloak.

"Maybe later. I don't particularly want to go meet people who think poorly of you. They don't sound like they're any fun," Sakura replied.

So they pushed the trip to the city off for several more months. But eventually, when the frost began to coat the ground and Sakura sat watching her sleeping garden, Itachi pulled her fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and took her outside. They took a carriage to the Guild under the cover of darkness. It was about as opulent as Itachi had described. Then again, he had never been a man to embellish. He always spoke just as it was. She liked that.

There were many people droning about laws and codes. Sakura sealed her oath in blood, ignoring the curious stares as she was ushered from room to room. Deidara had been there, perhaps the only other face she had cared to see. There was a low whisper of "Green Witch" that followed her, like a snake on her heels. Itachi had warned her that there weren't many like her left. That there would be those who would want to study her, even exploit her. She kept close to his elbow and he didn't push her away.

In the end, Sakura registered and declined all invitations to stay the night. ("To see the city! Explore!") On the carriage ride home, Sakura refused to sit across from Itachi. She wormed her way under his arm, burrowing under his cloak into the warmth. It had begun to snow. There was a special hush on these kinds of nights and Sakura had always hated it.

"I can't hear my friends. They're all fast asleep. Even the pine trees," she had once told him. So when it grew cold like this, Itachi always indulged her in her clinginess and her selfishness. He almost missed the way she had always tagged along behind him as a child, like an echo of his footsteps.

However, when Sakura curled up to his side, her softening curves pressed against him. Itachi could feel the rise and fall of her breaths. Not quite sleeping.

"Itachi," she called almost in a whisper. The carriage bumped over the road. The horses stamped their hooves in a steady beat over the path. She stared up at him, even though he looked straight ahead. A sense of dread grew in the pit of his stomach. Something about her tone.

"Itachi, listen to me," she said with a hint of impatience in her voice. There was a light tug on his shirt. His jaw clenched and his hand tightened into a fist at his side.

"I am listening, Sakura," he answered in a gentle tone.

"Oh." She hesitated for a moment. And then-

"I love you, Itachi," she uttered out loud.

"I know you do," Itachi sighed almost immediately. Her lower lip jutted out but his eyes stubbornly remained fixed straight ahead.

"You know that I don't mean that I love you like I love everyone else, right? Or like I love the flowers?" she then questioned. He nodded.

"Then why won't you look at me?" Her voice cracked a little towards the end. Her fingers tightened on his shirt.

"I took you in as my apprentice. I swore an oath to protect you, Sakura," intoned Itachi. He could feel her fingers trembling now. And when he looked down at her, her eyes were watering. Her smile was tight, stretched too thin. He placed his hand on her head.

"You're still a child, Sakura. I have to keep you safe…even if it's from me," he then added.

She seemed to understand. Though she didn't say anything else, she laid her head on his chest. Her tears were warm as they wetted through his shirt. Stroking her hair, he didn't say anything either during the rest of the ride home.

Sakura was asleep when they arrived.

After that, Sakura's smiles were strained for several weeks. The awkward silences were painful. And the colorful flowers that grew inside the house didn't seem to know what to do to make things better. Vivid green vines tickled her knuckles as she took notes by the planter. The wreath of mistletoe at the front door burst with bright white berries. But nothing they did seemed to cheer her up.

"A broken heart, little one?" the old water fairy from the well asked her one morning. She sat on the top of the rope, little blue feet tucked under her skirt. The house had indoor plumbing so they had never relied on the well. But Itachi kept it. He pretended not to notice the fairy that had taken up residence inside. And Sakura had always loved tossing shiny coins into it to lure the fairy up for a chat.

"Not exactly," answered Sakura. The water spirit hummed.

"Time will heal everything," the spirit then stated before she dove back down into the well, slipping through the cracks in the ice. Sakura considered this as she headed back inside, rubbing her chilled hands together. She poured water into the old kettle before setting it on the stove. As she stood plucking mint leaves into two mugs, she wondered how the old spirit had known.

That Christmas, her present from Itachi was flower bulbs. A dozen nestled in a box that carried the promise of spring inside. Shutting the box, she shoved it deep under her bed. Perhaps, when the frost melted, she would have forgotten the knot of pain in her chest. Along with those bulbs.

"Sakura."

She jerked awake, hands flying up to wipe the thin trail of drool running down her chin. She had fallen asleep while studying again. As she struggled to fix her hair and her shirt, Itachi stood trying not to chuckle at her brief panic. He waited for her to calm a little before he cleared his throat.

"Sorry. I was just doing some reading and I was so tired…" Sakura trailed off when she felt his eyes on her. She looked up at him.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" Itachi asked. He gestured to the open window. The night was clear. The moon hung low in the sky, yellow and round. Fireflies danced past, glowing light green in the darkness. She could hear crickets and frogs singing together in a trilling chorus.

She only hesitated for a moment before she nodded and got to her feet. Without being asked, she pulled her cloak off the hook by the door and draped it over her shoulders. The soft rabbit fur trim caressed her cheeks. He waited for her to fasten the buttons at her neck before they headed out the back door.

They followed the little trail from the backyard that led into the forest. Rather than take a lantern, Itachi twisted his fingers in a circular motion once. A soft light sprang to life in his palm. It glowed like a tiny moon cradled in his hand.

Their feet stepped over the damp grass. Sakura was just a few steps behind him, her eyes trained on his broad back. But after just a few minutes, Itachi suddenly stopped. He turned to look at her. Then he motioned for her to catch up. She reached out with one hand, pausing for just an instant. But then he offered his arm to her. They walked side by side from then on, her hand resting on his forearm.

Even though it was so late, the forest was certainly not sleeping. This past winter had been a long one and the fauna seemed eager to be active again. For some odd reason, the plant life didn't seem nearly as eager. Even the shoots in her garden seemed slow this spring, rousing sluggishly.

Paws crunched through the brush. Owls cooed, bright yellow eyes swiveling to watch them as they passed. Some of the noises were sharp and sudden, startling Sakura. She heard a rustle amongst the leaves and she pressed up against Itachi's side in surprise. A doe poked its head out into the woods, black eyes huge. It ducked back into the underbrush, skittering away on light hooves. She sucked in a sharp breath when Itachi's face suddenly drew closer to hers. Grasping her chin, he turned her head in the other direction. Clinging to the side of an ancient tree was a luminous blue hive.

"A fairy village? This close to the edge of the forest?" she breathed. Her eyes lit up with wonder. Small yellow and purple lights dipped in and out of the hive. If she strained to listen, she could even hear faint music coming from it.

"This is still rather close to the house. Your presence is attracting them," Itachi explained in her ear. Beaming, she turned back to look at him. She was too fast because she saw the sadness in his smile. Sakura hesitated as she stared up into his face. She tried to think of something to say to him, in that silent and chattering forest illuminated by the night.

"Is it something I did?" she asked in a broken whisper. Eyelids trembling closed, she leaned in, pressing her face against his chest.

"No," he sighed just as brokenly as he pushed her away.

"Itachi. Breakfast is ready," Sakura called from the doorway. Oddly enough, his bed was empty, the sheets untouched. Sakura stood for a moment, trying to remember whether Itachi had told her that he would be gone on errands.

In the 10 years since she had come to live in this house, she couldn't ever remember him leaving without telling her. And she also couldn't remember a time when he had overslept. The cranky necromancer was punctual, if anything.

It had been almost two years since she had registered with the guild. The seal on her palm didn't hurt anymore. The circular scar was a faint ridge of raised skin, and she was told it would only hurt again if she broke some rule.

Scowling, she made her way down the hall to Itachi's study. She tried hard not to come up here too often. Not that Itachi had forbidden her from being up here. It was just that- if the garden was her space, then this was Itachi's.

The door to Itachi's study was ajar. She hesitated just a moment before she rapped her knuckles against it. Silence met her. She pushed the door open just a little. The chair didn't turn to face her like it normally did. She knocked one more time before, sighing, she stepped into the room.

Sakura walked over to his desk. As she had suspected, Itachi was sleeping in his leather chair. Dark circles of exhaustion bloomed underneath his eyes. His hair was messy, falling out of the tie and into his face. She touched his shoulder, shaking him lightly. He didn't move. As she moved to shake him harder, her sleeve brushed against a sheet of paper, knocking it to the floor. She bent to retrieve it.

But something about it caught her eye. She honestly hadn't meant to peek. But there was something pink.

Turning the sheet over, Sakura felt her eyebrows knit together.

It was an oddly familiar face. Her own? Sketched in tiny, neat strokes. Just the hair and the eyes colored, the rest left black and white. Sakura set it back on the desk before noticing that they covered the desk.

Eyes, a nose, a mouth. There were blushing cheeks and even sketches of the way that she tucked part of her hair behind her ear as she worked. And the more she looked, the more she felt heat rise to her own cheeks.

As she took a step back, the traitorous floorboard creaked under her heel. Itachi's eyes snapped open.

The inside of her mouth felt so dry. And his stare was darting from her to the countless collage of drawings on his desk. The places his eyes landed felt so warm.

In a surprisingly stupid move, Itachi moved to sweep all the sheets of paper up in his arms. Some of them cascaded to the floor, revealing more of her. Sleeping by the fire, standing by the roses. Her lips touching the petals of a buttercup shaded gold. Pages and pages of her, each sketched with care.

Sakura didn't dare stoop to pick them up. She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Itachi stooped to stuff them into a drawer in his desk.

"Itachi," she called in a shaking voice. He turned to look at her.

"You know, those bulbs you gave me. The ones you gave me for Christmas that year," she began. His eyes refused to meet hers. He stared at her hands, fists clenched at her sides. And they both knew which year she was talking about. That box had represented something unbearably bitter to her. And it had stayed buried under her bed for the longest time. Until she had gathered the courage to plant them at the beginning of the spring.

"I didn't realize until they bloomed last month. They're jonquils."

Flowers had a language all their own. They symbolized different things, conveyed different emotions. Jonquils were one of her favorites. Had always been.

Because they meant, "Love me". Or perhaps more specifically, "I love you back."

"Why did you have to be so sly?" she demanded, words croaking and rasping as her voice broke. "Just when I thought that I could finally stop feeling this way." Her tears sprang forth, a flood of disappointment that she had laid to sleep on that cold winter day. Palms pressing to her eyes, she wept.

"Sakura," he said. He reached one hand towards her. Her chest heaved as she cried in that endless, soundless way that a child does. Where her breaths struggled to enter her chest and her face scrunched up. Itachi grabbed her wrist. She made a half-hearted show of shaking him off.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" she whispered.

Itachi sat back on his heels. Head in his hands.

"Because you were a child!" he exclaimed. The sharpness of his voice startled them both. Her head jerked up, eyes puffy and cheeks wet. Mouth hanging just a little bit open as she stared. She sniffed.

"You stupid man," Sakura choked out as she swatted at him. Itachi's eyes stayed trained on her face. At her red cheeks and red nose.

"Stupid!" she said again. She shoved him, more tears spilling out now.

"Sakura…I'm sorry but I can't tell… Are you happy or sad about this?" Itachi asked.

"Of course I'm happy," she sobbed, trying to push him away. He caught her fists.

She burst into fresh tears when he pulled her close, his big hands spreading over her back. She fell into his lap, burrowing her wet face into his neck. The light touch of his smiling mouth against her temples and the top of her head made her chest tighten.

"My little witch. Of course I love you. Then and now," he whispered.

That night, the morning glory twisted up the side of the house as it always did, up towards Sakura's window. They splayed out underneath the windowsill. The tight buds turned in anticipation towards where the sun would rise. By the time the light began creeping over the horizon, the flowers were blooming. They spread their petals to the warmth. And when a single finger touched on the edge of the vine, more flowers exploded into bloom. Dozens upon dozens of pinks and blues bloomed across the side of the house, like so many paint spatters on an artist's hands.

Sakura's arm hung lazily out the window. Her eyes swollen from crying, she watched the sunlight filter in through the trees. The flowers roused in the warmth, stretching up and up.

Later in the morning, when the warm fragrance of milk tea and toast travelled up and down the house, two people uttered soft "good mornings" as they met in the kitchen. And the morning glories shivered with delight.

The old clock tower in the center of city chimed 10 times as they sat down for tea. They chattered, commenting on each other's outfits and marveling at the wonderful weather. When the waiter finally arrived to pour their hot drinks, the women relaxed a little in their seats. One of them tilted her head as she looked over her companion's shoulder. She stared longingly at the handsome man sitting at the next table and sighed.

"I hear that Konan is getting engaged to that rich young scholar from the capital city. Isn't that grand?"

"Oh my, he's quite charming and so clever," she replied.

As the other woman opened her mouth, there was a tinkling noise of a hundred bells rattling together. Heads turned in time to see a dark figure swirling together as a thousand wisps of shadows solidified into one shape. A tall man emerged from the mists, his eyes coal black and the collar of his dark cape turned up high to conceal his face. But on his right shoulder sat a woman, her face glowing with all the excitement of a child. Her hair the color of spring carnations.

She slipped off from her perch, the fragrance of spring flowing off her. She was willowy, bending and swaying. Perhaps it was just the wind, but it felt like all the tree branches bent to her.

"Can I go visit the flower shop? I want new bulbs for the garden," she asked, turning on her heel to regard the man. Her hands clasped behind her back. Everything about her seemed to glow with adoration. He dipped his head in a slight nod. Eyes lighting up, she rose up on her toes, hands reaching into his collar to pull him down to her level.

Her lips met his just for the briefest moment. And then she ran off, the fragrance of flowers thick in the air.

The man stared after her as she pranced off. Something soft burned in his eyes as he watched her. And then he was off, stepping off the busy street and into an alley.

The two women were quiet for a long moment, even as the tables around them chattered about the unusual people who had just appeared. They looked down at their tea in silence for a while until one spoke first.

"They look happy," she uttered. Her companion nodded in silent assent.

Suddenly neither of them was jealous of Konan anymore.

They thought of the girl with the bells in her hair and the taciturn man with gentle warmth in his smile for a long time.