Training with Kisame-shishou was even harder than Sakura could have ever dreamed. She ran for hours every day, she lifted what felt like countless boulders, she trained with whatever sword (or stick) he saw fit to give her.

"A master swordsman can use any sword." He told her one day as she struggled to lift a greatsword for an hour at a time. "That's why we have special ones."

She kept quiet. The lectures were her favorite part. "There are seven." He continued, pacing back and forth in front of her. "Traditionally, you only get one when you're strong enough to kill its former owner. So it's unlikely that you'll get one until you're strong enough to kill me."

"Like Kubikiribōchō?" She gasped, sweat running in rivulets down her face and chest and spine. She felt hot and cold and sore all over.

He stopped immediately. "What do you know about that one, Sakura-chan?"

"Zabuza-san had it." If she had the strength, she might have shrugged. "We buried it with him."

"Kami." Kisame-shishou sighed. "You killed Zabuza?"

"My sensei did." Sakura admitted. "I was there."

He paused. "Technically... but then again," Kisame-shishou mused, tapping his hip. He cleared his throat. "How long had you been out of the academy at that point?"

Sakura scrunched up her face and tried to calculate dates. "Twenty eight days," she announced with confidence.

Her shishou took a deep breath and put a hand over his eyes. "Hell, Itty Bitty, we need to go get it then." Kisame grouched. "You didn't tell me you'd inherited a sword."

"I didn't." It was a question, but she was too tired to make it anything but a groaned statement.

"Close enough. Fudging details is almost as time - honored as ritualistic inheritance by murder. Where is it?" Kisame asked authoritatively, as if her arms weren't threatening to fall off.

"Wave." She grunted, feeling her muscles shudder and weaken.

"I'll tell Itachi we're going on a field trip, then." Her shishou calmly walked off and left her alone in the clearing they'd camped in.

When the timer finally went off, she tossed the sword to her right and slumped to the ground bonelessly.

"Itty Bitty." Her shishou called some time later. "Get ready to go."

She rolled over onto her back and glared at him with all the ferocity she could muster.

"You managed some mild killing intent. Impressive." He looked a bit like a proud father.

The feelings that inspired were contradictory and confusing. Some part of her swelled with pride, long-honed need for the approval of authority basking and preening. The other part of her was eying her shishou's throat and musing that it really would be her best bet as a target if she were to leap at him to put him down for condescending to her and making her move.

It really was an appealing target. Nice and bare, pulse fluttering delicately even between the cords of muscle. She wouldn't even need a legendary sword-

'Is that why Mist Swordsmen sharpen their teeth?' Sakura wondered in a jolt of sudden clarity. 'That would make ripping skin while fighting an opponent with superior weaponry much easier.'

Possibly the best part was that homicidal sentiment toward her teacher had the gravitas leant by tradition. If only she had known that back in Konoha. Things might have played out differently.

They found Zabuza's sword (her sword, now, didn't that sound odd) exactly where she and her (former) team had left it.

Kisame-shishou paid his respects while she and Itachi-san stood silently behind him like twin shadows. After a few long minutes, he looked back to her. "Are you going to take it or not?"

She walked up, fear making her hands cold and sweaty. Kubikiribōchō's grip was solid and stuck to the skin of her hands like it was made to be there (because you were, a small part of her crooned, mine now), and she tugged it lightly. Kubikiribōchō moved, and the soft earth it was embedded in crumbled and gave way.

She'd evidently been enhancing her strength (and hitting power, for use against idiotic jinchuuriki) for years, but had never fully understood how. Kisame-shishou had found out, laughed until he nearly choked. She'd never have the actual muscle mass to really lift one of these special swords (first Kubikiribōchō, then the world, she mocked herself, but really she would never ever let anyone else touch her shishou's sword, would die screaming first), but with her excellent chakra control…

Sakura pulled her new sword (and how it gleamed, like the smile of a long-lost friend, how was Ino doing anyway?) out of the dirt easily and swung it back over her shoulder. She wouldn't be able to do that for too long, but Shishou had said that being able to lift it was her first test in seeing if she was even capable to own it. She'd get a bigger chakra pool eventually, but there were only seven swords of the Mist.

Kubikiribōchō was a beauty, to be sure. And strong. She could feel it like the chakra coiled tightly in her stomach, like the blood rushing through her veins.

Her new sword took the iron out of blood to repair itself, or so Shishou had said. Judging by the fact that it was brilliant like diamonds, it had fed on Haku and Zabuza's after they'd buried them. It wasn't so surprising when she realized at least Zabuza had been covered in blood from head to toe, not all of it his own.

Repairing the blade in the blood of its former owner seemed poetic, in a really terrifying sense. She wondered if all the blades from Mist were like that.

She walked back to her Shishou and a carefully blank-faced Itachi with her prize swung over her shoulder in a deceptively casual manner.

And then she grinned widely and waited. Shishou put a terrifyingly (kind of comforting, now) large hand on her other shoulder.

"Congratulations on becoming the official apprentice of a Swordsman of the Mist." Kisame boomed. She got the feeling that this was as close to an official ceremony as she was ever going to get.

"You like her?" He asked with a grin.

She nodded fiercely, pale pink bangs bouncing in and out of her eyes. "Love her."

His wide mouth stretched into a toothy grin. "Be good to her. You'll have to be if you want Samehada someday. She's picky." He lifted his hand and poked her in the collarbone. "You're going to need huge chakra reserves."

'That is probably not going to happen.'

"I'll get to work on that immediately." She said dryly. "Pity. My plan was initially to attempt to suffocate you using that hideous housecoat and blame it on Itachi-san. (When she considered that Itachi-san was a fucking terrifying S-class missing-nin, the only thing that wasn't plausible about that excuse is that Itachi would have succeeded.) Then, when that doesn't even slightly work, you'll laugh yourself to death. I don't suppose Samehada would respect me for my incredible planning skills."

Kisame-shishou snickered, and Itachi made the aborted choking sound that she'd learned to consider a laugh.

"Nah, Itty Bitty. But someday you'll get there." He ruffled her hair and she narrowed her eyes. Of course, the mild killing intent she'd learned to make only served to encourage him. "After I'm dead." He amended, sharp teeth glinting in the sun.

In another context that might have been rude. Coming from Kisame-shishou, it was actually a compliment about her potential aptitude for murder.

"Your faith in me is appreciated, shishou." She said sourly, with a look in Itachi-san's general direction that meant she wasn't in the mood for any of his (politely worded) "encouraging" comments.

"Time for food." Shishou announced gamely, abruptly turning away. "What do you think is here, Itty Bitty? Anything good?"

"Last time I was here I stayed with a drunk bridgebuilder and his daughter." She admitted. "Tsunami-san is a good cook, but the area was impoverished and heavily policed by thugs. There weren't any businesses to speak of."

"You already have friends in the area, you say?" Her shishou grinned. "It would be rude not to say hello. And you weren't even going to say anything, Sakura-chan. I taught you better than that."

"I've known you for like, two months." Sakura groused. "And Tsunami-san might not appreciate a gaggle of missing-nin showing up on her doorstep. Her son is very impressionable." And obnoxious.

Kisame shrugged. "Missing-nin, or friendly vigilantes?" He queried. "It's all a matter of perspective. Though of course if you insist on being rude, I'm sure that your friends will understand why you came all the way out here and didn't visit them."

Oh, hell. Fine.

"Their house is this way." She gestured with her gigantic sword. "Should we seal this up? And not terrify them?"

"If you insist." Kisame compromised. "We'll be on our best behavior. Right, 'Tachi?"

If she had to pin down Itachi-san's (lack of) reaction, she would call it 'unimpressed'.

"An inadvisable course of action." He said with a hint of a chill in his voice. It made Sakura's hair stand on end.

She wouldn't have expected that Itachi-san would care about potentially terrifying a few civilians. Then again, he usually tried to keep from scaring her - it just didn't always work. Itachi-san really was a nice guy. He just seemed to be wrapped up in a huge layer of 'pants-wettingly scary'. Maybe he hadn't been socialized enough- his awkward attempts at kindness reminded her of Kakashi-sensei sometimes. Like a robot trying trying to learn to love.

'Then again, he seems pretty willing to go along with anything Kisame-shishou asks - as long as it doesn't involve killing people. It's odd, when you consider that Shishou is always complaining about how Itachi-san never wants to do his work.'

"Itachi-san, they're going to be fine." Sakura reassured. "Honestly, if they could deal with Kakashi-sensei, Naruto, and Sasuke and I in a house, I think they can survive anything."

Itachi looked away from her. That was strange. But she wasn't going to pry.

She and her Shishou shared a look. "Let's get going, then." Kisame-shishou suggested, grabbing her shoulder and steering her away. "I bet your friends missed you."

Tsunami-san was actually very happy to see her, if a little mystified by her current company. Her gaze wandered over Kisame-shishou and Itachi's crossed-out hitai-ites with an absent smile.

Of course, Sakura wasn't wearing a hitai-ite at all. She'd been a ninja (only a technicality, she hadn't even been trained enough that Shishou would let her go into a civilian town alone) for a few months. It seemed stupid to cross out the leaf symbol, or to wear it at all when the fact that she had it was a joke.

Itachi-san and Kisame-shishou, they were the real deal. Terrifying, strong, and intelligent. They could kill her without thinking twice. She was a baby ninja, a glorified Academy student. Kisame-shishou had tried to reassure her that even if she never went home, Konoha wouldn't send a hunter-nin team after her. It wasn't that reassuring but it was probably true. She was a Genin, barely six months out into the field. They wouldn't have expected her to live on her own.

As well they shouldn't. The life of a missing nin was hard. Clients lied, they cheated, they schemed to take your head and bounty. Itachi-san had had one of those missions last week. The man had hired him to do a job (no killing, just the way Itachi-san liked it, just get in and get out) and then set up a trap full of Kumo nin to kill him.

Itachi had come back reeking of blood, even though she knew none of it was on him. He was even less talkative than usual for a few days. Her shishou didn't mention it, so she didn't either.

But today no one smelled of blood (and Samehada had been temporarily put in a seal, away from a child's prying fingers). Sakura's companions looked presentable, if a little unconventional.

So Sakura gave Tsunami-san her most genial smile, and Tsunami-san let them in. Either she had decided that whoever was carting Sakura around wasn't too bad, or that if they wanted something they could easily kill her and take it anyway. Sakura obviously hoped for the former, but Tsunami-san had initially struck her as a realist.

The food was excellent, even though Tazuna-san was just as awful as she remembered (glad you didn't bring that blond idiot –Kisame grinned- or that angry mouthy brunette – she winced but Itachi was perfectly -terrifyingly- still). Inari-kun was absolutely fascinated with Kisame-shishou. 'My shishou, brat- get your own.' she wanted to snarl, but she just struggled to maintain a pleasant look and politely avoided the child's staring.

The whole affair forced her to remember the last time she was here in painful detail.

Sasuke scowling over his food while Naruto yelled. Kakashi lazily reading his disgusting books or subtly encouraging their ridiculous rivalry and forgetting she existed, even after she'd shown how much better she was at chakra control.

"So how do you know Sakura-san?" Kisame asked with a grin.

Sakura suddenly pitied herself even more than previously. She hadn't even considered that Kisame's twisted sense of humor could turn on her in this manner.

Tazuna cleared his throat dramatically and launched into an emphatic story-telling of his epic quest to free Wave Country from tyranny by building a bridge, and her team's part in the whole Kami-forsaken affair.

She stared at her plate blankly and let Tazuna-san's awful grating voice fall into white noise. Sakura wasn't even remotely interested in reliving the Wave mission. She was only subconsciously aware when Tazuna reached the part where the Demon Brothers came out of a puddle.

It was then that Sakura briefly registered the feeling that she was being stared at, and looked up to meet Tazuna-san's bloodshot gaze.

He took another pull from the jug of sake he clung to, and Sakura eyed it with distaste.

"You're the only one that did your job, though." The drunkard mused, and pulled at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "You kept me safe when they attacked."

And what did it get her? A big fat load of nothing. Whereas Naruto- who couldn't do his job to save his life, who shouted and fought with Sasuke and never ever did what he was supposed to do- he got a fucking bridge named after him.

The world seemed to be funny like that.

What had Naruto really done to impress Tazuna-san enough for to name the bridge after him, anyway? He hadn't protected Tazuna, he hadn't defeated Haku or Zabuza, he just shouted and bickered with her other teammate.

Well, there was the point where he shouted moralistic platitudes at Zabuza and somehow harangued him into admitting he was upset about Haku dying. Or maybe it was about how he'd evidently yelled at Inari until he stopped sniveling and grabbed the other villagers. It was hard to say.

She didn't feel like asking, anyway. Sakura was entirely uninterested in listening to an aging alcoholic wax poetic about her irritating teammate. So she'd probably never have the answer.

The last time she was here, she sat at this very table and no one in the room would look twice at her. She wouldn't be surprised or depressed if it was the same this time. Tazuna-san and her old team could go jump off a cliff for all she cared.

Sasuke had dived –dived!- to save Naruto from being pelted with senbon, but no one cared about her. Kakashi hadn't even given her something else to do after she mastered their water walking training.

She hadn't asked, either. She'd just been so accepting of her team.

No- not just accepting, happy whenever they included her. She'd done something right, she was the best at water walking, and she'd been thrilled to be the best at something. Anything. Sakura hadn't even conceived that Kakashi could have or would have given her something else to work on, that training for a ninja was never done until you were dead.

But this time was different, even if Tazuna-san didn't know it. His daughter probably did. After Tsunami-san noticed her friends' headbands, she'd looked at Sakura differently. She was no longer just a little girl in those eyes. Sakura wouldn't peg down the gaze as wary, exactly, but maybe evaluative.

Now she was no longer wearing her headband at all, and traveling with two missing nin of formidable strength. And they –or at least Kisame- cared whether she lived or died as a mediocre ninja. She wouldn't ever sit on the sidelines again if she kept following them, she'd get stronger and stronger until she could act as a teammate for them.

Or kill her shishou and take his place, but that was neither here nor there.

They left after a few hours, once they'd had their fill of civilized company and Tsunami-san sent them away with more food. "You're the best decision I ever made, Itty Bitty, even if you never pan out as an apprentice." her shishou said, holding the package to his chest like it was filled with gold bars.

She couldn't exactly blame him. After two months, she was really getting tired of their food. It wasn't bad, really, but roasted rabbit night after night got pretty damn old. And the roadside dango Itachi seemed to need to live was both expensive and mediocre.

She didn't tell him that, though. He had to have already known, just made do with what was available. Sakura wasn't going to be the one to mess with carefully constructed coping mechanisms.