A/N: I'm probably going to change the summary again until I'm moderately satisfied.

We

"We have to go back to the academy next week," I inform Sasuke after reading the note left by Kizashi, who's actually in the village but is busy helping the TIF with torture. Presumably. "And the hospital check-up has been moved to tomorrow because of it."

I hear Sasuke's long-suffering groan and the thud of their training bag against the floor. Hopefully, the neighbours don't complain. "Fuck my life," he whines, his increasing proximity towards my back making my senses tingle despite him being an ally. "I hate people, though." He practically falls onto me in order to rest his head on my shoulder. "Don't you hate people?"

"You already know that I don't have the energy to hate anyone." (That's a lie. I hate myself. I hate everyone that pushed you into leaving, just a little bit.)

Sasuke scoffs before he wraps his arms around my midsection and replaces his forehead on my shoulder with his chin. I feel tense and uncomfortable with the form of contact, but he ignores my feelings on the matter. As per usual. His desire to be as clingy as possible outweighs my discomfort, obviously.

Neither of us speak for a few long seconds, but he soon breaks the silence with a quiet, "They're going to get up in our business, wondering why we're together; why you're different; why I'm different." His grip on me tightens a fraction. "Someone's going to get decked in the face first day back, I know it. It'll probably be Naruto, that bastard."

I tilt my head towards him, confused as to why that would be the case.

Uzumaki Naruto was your other seatmate, I remember, but he generally kept to himself during class. Outside of it, however, was when things tended to get chaotic because people didn't like him for one reason or another, so he often retaliated with fairly malicious pranks that left the other kids obviously traumatised.

You didn't interact with him because you found the way he smiled at other people scary ̶ (that's what your justification was, but you just didn't want a bigger target on your back) ̶ but sometimes you'd catch him smiling at you like he was genuinely pleased by your presence. Why, you never knew. But you'd return an unsure, awkward smile on the off occasion you could maintain eye contact for more than two seconds.

(Sometimes, you thought, 'maybe, just maybe we can be friends and I won't be alone anymore.' But then you'd hear people jeer at him, and you'd see him smile back at them like he was waiting for a reason to act. And so you left him alone.)

Aside from that, the only other notable thing in your memories regarding him is the fact that he and Sasuke seemed to have a weird type of unspoken rivalry during practical lessons and practical lessons alone. (You've never seen Naruto even bother with theory lessons. Instead, you'd see him make origami out of the paper.) They'd barely interact otherwise, so I don't think he would say something worthy of a black eye after having not seen his unspoken rival months after the massacre.

"Why him?"

Sasuke gently bumps his head against mine. "Because you're Sakuran and not Sakura," he reveals, an annoyed tinge to his voice. I blink at the unexpected response. "He won't like you because he liked her and I'll get pissed off when he decides to be an asshole about it because I like you and I didn't like her. I still don't." Hugging me tighter and burying his face into the crook of my neck, I hear and feel a muffled, "Sorry," that just makes me tired.

One liked you and the other likes me but they couldn't like us, could they? You couldn't even like yourself, let alone me ̶ (and I could never like myself, anyway, so long as I'm separated from you) ̶ so how could we expect anyone else to?

So, I tell him, "I get it," and I mean it. I can't blame him, even though it bothers me. (Sasuke, the Uchiha's spare. How could he look out for anyone but himself?) I can't blame Naruto, either, even though a part of me ponders on how much he could've helped if he had just talked to you. (At the very least, he cared. It wouldn't have been enough, I know. But he cared and that has to count for something. Right?) We only have ourselves to blame, but only one of us is here to deal with the fallout.

(I miss you, Sakura. I miss being whole. But I can't remember what that was like.)

. . .

. . .

Nori-san jots something down on his clipboard. Some part of me hopes for there to be something worthwhile written. Something like possibilities on how to bring you back. (It's wishful thinking.) But I know that it's irrelevant information describing how I feel about the relationships in my life and my own self-reflection on how we got here.

(I hate this, I hate me, I hate you, why ̶ )

"We've made some changes regarding your person," he says after a while of silence. I look away from the vase of lilies by his window and towards him, his glasses glinting in the sunlight as his expression shifts into something apologetic. "Haruno Sakuran now officially exists as a derived entity from Haruno Sakura, so your particular profile will be presented to the correct parties from now on. It will say that you suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder and that you're currently the dominant personality, which will give you the legitimacy to become a ninja."

My chest hurts. (Why did you do this to me? To us?) I don't want this. (But I'll go through with it. You're not here to become a strong kunoichi, so I have to do it for you.)

"I understand," I sigh, glancing to the door where Sasuke's surely waiting outside. His sessions always end early because he doesn't like talking about his feelings to anyone except me. He thinks that they wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain. ("You get it, Sakuran. Even if it's different, we were both betrayed by the people we love and left for dead.") And even though they've tried bringing me in as a supposed source of comfort, it doesn't make much of a difference when there's still a stranger in the room.

("I feel like you're a piece of shit and I don't give a shit about your generic seven-step plan to recovery! Why don't you make a new one and put Step One as, 'Get Uchiha Sasuke a psychologist that can actually do their fucking job'?")

I think he's too aggressive towards someone who's obligated to help, but it's understandable when the said someone is as grating as Sasuke's psychologist. Why should he open up to a person who clearly doesn't care even on a professional level? (Why isn't anyone doing something about it?)

Nori-san looks down, his brows furrowed with worry because, unlike the psychologist, he actually cares. (It's too bad that it's not enough.) "There's also the matter of your education being behind because of Sakura-chan's absence, which is also the case with Sasuke-kun." He shuffles through his papers. "Though I disagree with how they've decided to go about this, it isn't mandatory for the both of you to arrive at or leave the academy at the same time as your peers." With a sigh, he continues, "While they say it's so you can catch up on your coursework without distractions, it's mostly in place so the two of you can leave or arrive late without repercussions if either of you are feeling overwhelmed."

That works, I suppose, even if it seems like a rather lackadaisical approach. Neither of us are excited about returning to school, but there's the chance of being able to break Ami's face when she inevitably tries something because she thinks I'm you. (I'd make it hurt. I'd make it memorable.) You always hesitated striking back because you didn't really want to hurt anyone, and what if it wasn't enough? What if you just pissed them off more and caused yourself more misery?

But I'm different, I know. All the negative energy you forced upon me is still here, still pent up and simmering beneath the thin layer of numb emptiness. You gave up before you even tried, but all I've been doing is trying. For you. (For us.) I'm trying and you don't notice. You don't care. You're not here.

So, I can do what I want with Ami, right? You're not here to care about hurting your bully ̶ (so kind, Sakura. Where has your kindness taken you, now?) ̶ I can make her bleed like she's done to you. I can tell her that you're beautiful and that you're worthy of being alive. I can tell her that I'll break her face ̶ (that I'll break her will to live) ̶ before I actually do so.

But I won't. Not unless she provokes me first. (Would that be good enough for you?)

"Sakuran-san…"

Broken out of my thoughts, I focus on Nori-san once more. His gaze is one of pity and a smidgen of hope. "Didn't you once say that Sakura-chan would have liked being a medic-nin?"

I blink at him, bemused, before clarifying, "I said that she would've been a good one." You didn't think that far into your future. You couldn't. It was hard to think about specialisations when your psyche was breaking down before you could even get the qualifications to become a genin.

"Yes, right," Nori-san answers with a self-deprecating smile. (He's trying to help, I understand, but you're gone and I'm tired.) "In any case, that's why I'd like to offer you medical ninjutsu lessons. Your chakra control is naturally on par with your fathe ̶ " I twitch at the term and he catches it. He coughs. "With Kizashi-san, I mean. Meaning you'd be prodigious at both genjutsu and medical ninjutsu, should you decide to pursue either."

There's no point in refusing, I suppose. Anything I learn would be useful to you if you come back. (I wish you'd come back. You should be learning this, not me.)

"I'll accept. Thank you for the opportunity."

Nori-san beams so brightly that it's almost blinding. His back immediately straightens as he exclaims, "Excellent! I'm generally quite busy, but I can teach you during our appointments since I feel like you weren't getting much out of our current arrangement." Rapidly scribbling down something, he adds, "I'll also assign a genin to tutor you when I'm not available. He's very capable at medical ninjutsu and knows how the hospital works; maybe the two of you can even become friends. He's a few years older than you but you're both very mature for your ages, so I think you'd get along."

My first thought is that Sasuke isn't going to like this. He's only going to become more possessive at this rate and I don't know if I have it in me to distance myself from him.

Would he leave if you returned, I wonder? Or would he try to bring me back, regardless of my wishes to let you stay?

(I already know the answer. It's not the answer I want.)

. . .

. . .

"This is weird," Sasuke states with hunched shoulders and squinty eyes as he practically holds a bowl of rice to his chest. Kizashi looks unfazed, if not a little weary. "Your presence makes things weird. I'd ask you to shoo but that'd be rude, especially since this is your apartment, too."

I hold back a smile as your father raises a brow at him. "As opposed to how courteous you're currently being?" he retorts, although there's a faint tone of amusement in his voice. Sometimes, I think he might have a sense of humour hidden somewhere beneath his stoic shinobi façade.

With a smug smirk, Sasuke snarks back, "I'm being downright fucking angelic. Nothing's broken aside from my soul and I'm not on the verge of a mental breakdown, just the halfway point. Isn't that impressive?"

Kizashi's lips tilt downward at the news, his demeanour somehow becoming more solemn than before. "Would your current mental states be a hindrance towards learning about genjutsu?" he questions, looking between the two of us.

Sasuke and I glance at one another. I shrug. He turns back to Kizashi and shrugs as well. "Fuck it if it is. We could use our draining sanity against others or something, right? Make them feel the pain of being live angst machines."

"That can be our name," I suggest. We haven't been able to come up with one since we've been trying too hard with the alliteration.

"Holy shit," Sasuke gasps, delighted, "you're right! The Live Angst Machines!" But then he frowns in consideration. "Except just about every ninja in the world would qualify." A fairly dramatic sigh of disappointment escapes him before he says, "I'll keep it in mind if we've really run out of options. My latest idea was, 'Dicks Don't Die,' but the only explanation I could come up with a name like that is that it represents a group of dudes with priapism."

With a processing blink, Kizashi gracefully moves on without a single comment while I unsuccessfully try to smother my grin. "Then I'll make preparations for future lessons. In the meantime, just make sure to keep up with your schoolwork."

"I don't think it matters whether we do or not," I remark as I break up the salmon on my plate. "They won't let Sasuke fail to graduate just because his grades are too low, which means that they won't let me fail since he'd just stay with me if they did."

"Scheming dipshits," Sasuke hisses, spitting to the side as per his obscure traditions. He doesn't actually have saliva in this one, though, since they're indoors. "Fuck 'em."

Kizashi elicits a long, tired sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. "I can agree with that," he mutters, leaning back in his seat. "They're still trying to make you live alone or give you to someone less independent. Hokage-sama says he's on my side, but he's let shady shit fall under the radar before, so who knows what'll happen if I let my guard down."

I feel a frown forming on my face ̶ (it's automatic now, being able to say that this body is mine even though I know it's yours. It doesn't feel like an accomplishment) ̶ as I realise that sounds vaguely treasonous. Maybe that's why he's always going on missions. Maybe they want him dead and out of the way, which would leave the two of us free from any of his theoretical machinations. It might also mean that they could try to use me as a bargaining chip without interference, since they're obviously aware of my importance to the 'Last Uchiha.'

"And people said Konoha was the softest village of them all," Sasuke quips as he scowls down at his food. Then, a sharp and bitter smirk contorts his face. "Home, sweet home, am I right?"

(Home, sweet home… What does it feel like, I wonder, to belong?)

We

A/N: Everyone's kind of angry in this chapter, aren't they?

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