Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine.

Warning: None, really. I took liberty with certain things but I believe they're within reason. I don't have a beta reader and English is also not my first language so I hope my writing isn't too off.

If there was one thing worth mentioning about Shisui, aside from his terrifying prowess, it would be how he strayed from a typical Uchiha.

Sandaime-sama occasionally commented out of the blue, with a fond and nostalgic smile on his wrinkled face, "You remind me of Kagami." Yondaime-sama's bright blue eyes crinkled when he patted his shoulder, "Your love for the village is really something." The quiet Itachi often trailed after him, listening to every word he said as if they were sacred; so unlike when he's with their clansmen.

Shisui always smiled back at them – his ever pleasant smile – and left you might as well say it out loud that I'm not like any other Uchiha unspoken.

("We are different." his father had said once upon a time.

And like any good child, Shisui listened.)

He knew whatever they did or didn't say was meant as a compliment but Shisui was humble and realistic and so he knew that any man living in this world couldn't completely reject his roots.

There was still an Uchiha in Shisui.

You were an Uchiha when you harbored a love that was much like a raging fire, threatening to burn yourself and everything else.

(Shisui thought of all the lives he willingly took – some were guilty, some were not, he had lost count years ago – in the name of Konoha.)

And you were one too if a violent thrill rushed through your veins when you witnessed a display of power.

Just like how Shisui was feeling right now.

In the midst of broken boulders and deep cracks running like spider web on the earth, Haruno Sakura was standing atop a pile of bodies with blood splattering across her hardened face and the moon casting silver light on her lithe figure. All that destruction was created with her own bare hands – not some fancy jutsu.

That, Shisui thought, was power in its purest form.

Haruno Sakura had always been something of a blur in his mind. Just a little girl with bubblegum pink hair, no special ability and bloodline to note of, following Sasuke around like a lost puppy. The only thing memorable about her, he vaguely remembered, was that she seemed to fidget whenever in his presence and her 'Uchiha-san' was often mumbled – it's not a common reaction he got from people, children especially. But this…

Shisui's pupils dilated and his sharingan sparked to life.

This is perfection.

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.

.

He didn't see Haruno-san much aside from the occasional missions where she served as a substitute for his team, considering their different lines of work. Whenever he had a brief encounter with her, though, he liked what he saw.

She was not hard to find. It's common knowledge that if you wanted to meet her, the hospital was where you should go first. In fact, all the times he saw her were at the hospital. He was not one to land himself often on places of medical nature; mostly he went there since it's a required procedure after a mission or it's time for his regular check-ups. He never missed those sessions.

(His mother told him time and again, "Taking good care of yourself is part of being a good shinobi."

Shisui always nodded.)

Haruno-san usually wasn't the doctor assigned to him. She was the third in command at the hospital as well as a top medic; as such, she was mostly in charge of managing or cases that needed doctors of her caliber. Their meetings were always passing nods of acknowledgment and she would continue on her way – her steps never slowed – leaving him to watch her from afar.

She carried herself with an air of certainty and confidence that was almost tangible. There was a purpose in her strides, determination in the way her head held high, composure in her straight back. She moved on the crowded hall with swiftness, giving directions along the way – all the while not even a hair out of place.

Like he had said – perfection.

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For all the fame he achieved from possessing a formidable speed, sometimes Shisui was too late.

He looked at the mangled body of his fallen subordinate – legs were bent at awkward angles, bones thrust through his arms, and Konoha hitai-ate came out from the bloody mess of what once had been his head. The first thing Shisui did after coming to the scene, however, was not feeling sad or sympathy or even disgusted at the gruesome act committed against his comrade. No, the first thing Shisui did was activating his bloodline limit to check if this – he could barely acknowledge it used to be a human – was truly what remained of his comrade and not some complicated fraud. After all, faking death was a popular choice among the enemy and seemingly loyal shinobi who wanted to defect. One could never be too careful.

Shisui wouldn't say he was cold. He always tried his best to keep his teammates alive and in one piece and avoided unnecessary sacrifices – that's the duty of a captain. But when you made killing a living, casualty was unavoidable; some days you came too late, some days they made a fatal mistake, some days life was simply unfair. The cycle kept repeating until one day all your heart was capable of was the feeling of 'been there, done that' and the face of your fallen comrade melt into the next one and that biting pain when you first experienced loss became a dull ache from a distant past.

Because, to be a shinobi was to endure.

("Rule number twenty-five," his father chided. "Always remember rule number twenty-five, my son.")

Crimson eyes swirled back to charcoal and they slid to the hunched form of Haruno Sakura.

If he had to say, the closest thing to an emotion inside him right now would be disappointment.

She was kneeling before their unlucky teammate with her back facing him so he couldn't see her expression, but the hand that was holding onto the hand of the dead was shaking – however faint. Her shoulders slumped. Her head hung low. For someone like her, who was both a killer and a healer, she must have seen death countless times – in and out of battles. Yet here she was, clearly displaying emotions – a weakness, a direct disobedience to the rules – and acting like some genin that suffered loss for the first time. Where was the exemplar kunoichi he had seen in her?

Disappointment indeed.

Shisui took slow steps towards Haruno-san then he crouched down behind her, his hand reached out to touch her shoulder, to wake her from the stupor she was in, to reprimand her that this was no way how a shinobi should behave, to tell her…

Have her shoulders always been this small?

His hand covered her thin shoulder entirely and he dimly thought if he squeezed harder it would break. Being this close to her made him realize that even though he was kneeling, he was still a good head taller than her.

She seemed so large when you looked at her from a distance and so small when you came close to her.

The thought startled him – just like when one woke up from an illusion.

Any word that he intended to say died on his lips.

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.

"Who would you recommend for your team?" Yondaime-sama asked while he was reading the report.

Shisui mulled over his question.

His team's missions had gotten harder lately – not that they weren't hard before – which resulted in a few regular members being hospitalized for months. That's the reason why Haruno Sakura was chosen as a temporary in several assignments; to reduce the level of casualty. Now with one less member and some were still recovering, a permanent addition or at least one that would last for a period of time was necessary.

His top choice would be Itachi but that boy had his own team to look after – among other things. There were other shinobi whom he had heard of their potential yet never had the chance to work with or personally knew them to judge if they were suitable for his team. He didn't think he wanted to deal with the headache that was Sasuke and Naruto-kun; Hatake-san handled them much better than anyone in the village.

Then there was Haruno Sakura.

She was strong, efficient, possessed skills that were of benefit to multiple purposes, and had a good head on her shoulders.

(Small shoulders that even now plagued his mind. He didn't know why.)

Haruno-san was also a dutiful person. Along with him, she was the first to arrive and the last to leave at every meeting. She generally abided by shinobi codes, too.

Generally.

(She spread a scroll over the body and with a few hand seals, their fallen comrade was safely secured inside it. Her quick and fluid motion – it took no more than four seconds – told him she must have done this ritual many a time.

Yet she still found it in her heart to mourn for the dead.

Normally, shinobi would dispose of their teammates' corpses right at the scene. Only individuals of great importance – in terms of power or social status – were brought back for preservation and proper burial. This teammate of theirs didn't fall into the latter category.

As if sensing his inquiry, Haruno-san – with her back still facing him – murmured.

"We were comrades going to a battle together so we will go home together, dead or alive.")

Haruno Sakura was powerful in her own right but she was too sentimental and that automatically failed her as a shinobi. A true shinobi captain would not choose her.

(Every afternoon, when their daily training session had ended, Shisui sat with his father on the porch that looked out to their family's garden. This would be the time his father delivered lectures on how to keep his emotions in check.

"Feelings are your worst enemy," his father always reminded him.

Sometimes, while his father's stern voice was still going steadily, Shisui would recognize a little bluebird that seemed to fancy their garden. It came here often, he recalled, making it Shisui's companion in these afternoons. The corners of his lips would twitch up a fraction every time the bird cocked its head and looked at him curiously with its black beady eyes.

When his father looked the other way, Shisui's gaze would chase after the bird long after it disappeared into the vast blue sky.)

Yondaime-sama was waiting patiently for his answer. Shisui looked up at him.

"Haruno. I want Haruno Sakura."

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.

Between missions and certain jobs that he had to take care of, Shisui didn't have much time to reflect on his impulsive decision. So far, Haruno-san hadn't given him a reason to. His assessments of her were correct; her skills were a valuable asset to his team and she was one disciplined individual. She killed. She healed. She listened to orders. Haruno-san executed tasks handed to her like a well-oiled machine.

He would be prone to believe this version of hers had he not known otherwise.

While she was decimating the training ground in front of his eyes, he tried to juxtapose the iron hand that shattered the earth into pieces with the shaky hand that held their dead teammate. He failed spectacularly.

When it came to Haruno Sakura, he mused, contradictions seemed to be expected.

Shisui's sharingan swirled lazily while observing his teammates spar. Ever since she officially joined his team, their meetings were more frequent due to these training sessions. No matter how many times he had watched her favorite offensive move, though, it never failed to fascinate him. At first glance her technique appeared to depend solely on brute force but once you understood its principle, it became the very opposite of that assumption. To concentrate the right amount of chakra – not too much, not too little – into a part of your body and release it at exact timing without conscious effort was no small feat. It's hard not to admire the degree of skill packed into that one fist.

He wondered how the squirmy pink-haired little girl in his memory could become a young woman who splintered an oak tree.

Shisui closed his eyes and listened to the deafening sound of an earthquake, of enormous trees falling down, and of her opponent's screeching.

Ah, he thought, that must be the sound of endless practice.

When he opened his eyes again, the fight was already over. His subordinate, who was matched against her, was sitting with his back leaning on the only tree in the vicinity that survived her attacks. He was panting heavily, sweats rolling down his face. Haruno-san stood several feet away from him. She seemed to be slightly out of breath and he could spot some bruises and cuts that were beginning to fade under her glowing hand. But other than that, it's clear who the victor was.

Haruno-san hadn't relaxed her posture; she was still looking intensely at her defeated opponent when he came close to her. Her brows furrowed while her eyes looked contemplative like she was calculating all the right moves she should have made. This, to be honest, did perplex Shisui. He had watched their entire match and he thought she had done a splendid job; nothing to criticize besides, perhaps, be nicer to her surroundings.

She only noticed him when he stood right next to her as proven by her jumping slightly. Now this was worth a criticism, shinobi should always be on alert even though they were in the safe zone of their village.

("You don't know where your enemies lurk." was his parents' constant whisper during the clan gatherings.

Shisui never replied, his eyes continued to stare at the mass of black hair and black eyes that were not so different from his.)

Still, he would let it slide this one time for her previous performance.

Her eyes darted to him then she quickly averted them back to their teammate. For a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of that little girl in the past.

"Well done, Haruno-san." Shisui rarely commended on his subordinates, only on the missions or the whole team in general; but he supposed what she had shown him deserved a praise.

Haruno-san whipped her head so fast it must hurt and she had this stunned look like she couldn't believe what he just said. Then as her expression relaxed and her lips curved up into a tentative smile, she finally looked him in the eyes.

It was at that moment, when they stood side by side under the sunlight that seemed to make her eyes sparkle, Shisui became conscious of something for the first time.

Haruno Sakura's eyes were really, really green.

And they were breathtaking.

.

.

.

Watching Haruno-san was like watching nature in flesh and blood.

She normally had a cheery appearance resembling nice sunny days, with her eyes reflecting the color of fresh leaves. When she was upset, it reminded him of an afternoon rain – gloomy and dark – and the green in her eyes dimmed a few shades till it became a fragmented emerald. If she got angry, interestingly enough, her eyes would glow an atomic green and her expression was much akin to a thunderous sky.

At the third month of her admission into his team, Shisui had learnt to accept that the image of a perfect kunoichi might be created by his tired eyes.

Or, maybe, he just never truly looked at Haruno Sakura.

That day at the training ground seemed to lift up an invisible veil before his eyes and he started to see her more clearly. He wasn't sure he still liked what he saw, though.

He didn't regret his decision of choosing her as his subordinate for Haruno-san always completed her jobs without so much of a hitch. She never jeopardized the team's missions despite her, what he deemed as, shortcoming so he had yet voiced his opinion on the matter; but it did baffle him how her teacher had passed someone like her – who wore emotions on her sleeve. Then again, the same teacher had passed the loud and boisterous Naruto-kun so he shouldn't be surprised.

Ironically that Hatake-san approved of such students – for a shinobi with his face hidden all the time, that is.

(It's the definition of shinobi. The ability to hide behind a mask. To act not in tune with your heart. To be all smiles even though you just wanted to run your tantou through those standing before you.

Even at the tender age of five, he knew that look on his father's face, knew what was in his mind as his mouth stretched up showing white teeth while he was talking to his clansmen.

Each time, Shisui had to force himself to look away.)

Perhaps someday he would tell her a thing or two about her open display of emotion, but…

Haruno-san was discussing with a teammate about poisons, excitement barely contained in her small frame. Her eyes lit up like the river caught morning light, clear and glimmering and its vibrancy keeping his gaze intent on her like hypnosis.

…not today.

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Shisui could not fault those who disliked going to the hospital. There was always the distinct smell of medicine and antiseptic permeating into every corner of this building. On its best day, the place was relatively quiet with patients waiting for their turn in silence and soft instructions from the staffs. On its worst day, however, desperate screams mixed with anguish cries and doctors and nurses, in their pristine white outfit, breezed in and out of rooms like spectres.

Worst day happened more often than not at the hospital of a ninja village.

Admittedly, he would also steer clear of this place if it's not time for his regular check-up. Good thing that the procedure normally lasted two hours at most, he thought as he opened the door to his designated room.

"Good morning, Taichou."

Shisui blinked.

Haruno-san was dressed in a long-sleeved unbuttoned white coat, revealing her trademark red qipao underneath. She was holding a clipboard in one hand while the other gestured to the examination table.

"Please sit down," she smiled at him.

He wordlessly did as she said. This was quite a surprise but not one he would complain about.

(For some reasons, he did not find it in him to complain anything about her.)

Once he sat on the table, Haruno-san stepped closer until she stood between his legs, then she put down her clipboard next to him. She was close enough for efficiency but not too close that it would make one uncomfortable. Her glowing hands raised and the process began. Inserting your chakra into another body even for medical purpose was still an intrusion; it could be highly unpleasant so medics often tried their best to make the process unnoticeable. Shisui had his fair share of medics but he thought Haruno-san lived up to her title as one of the greatest medical ninja. She didn't bother to cover her chakra; you could feel it throughout your body but instead of the prickly sensation when something alien was inside you, you feel rested like soaking in a warm bath after a long day.

Maybe the pleasing cadence of her voice helped as well. During the session, Haruno-san never let the silence stretch to awkwardness but she also didn't become a chatterbox that would annoy people who were not much of a talker. She occasionally engaged you in questions that weren't nosy. And in between asks and answers, she humored you with technical explanations of what she was doing. Not once did her voice change its gentle, soothing rhythm.

As she concentrated on her task, Shisui looked down at her. Haruno-san had fair complexion, with faint freckles sprinkling across the bridge of her button nose. Her long pale pink eyelash fluttered when she blinked. Every time she smiled, her cheeks would dip a little. Looking at her certainly helped one to relax too, he amusedly thought.

"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

The unexpected question pulled him out of his daze. It appeared that Haruno-san had completed her medical check and was now standing at a respectful distance to write on her clipboard. Shisui spent a moment to mentally scold himself for being distracted before replying.

"Surely I'm not that obvious?"

He didn't deny because one look at her and he knew it's pointless to hide these things from a seasoned medic. But his tone was light, the kind he used when he wanted to divert attention from a particular topic.

(His village. His clan. The council. The elders. Conspiracy. Countermeasure. Fugaku-san. Yondaime-sama.

They all made his head spin. But it wouldn't do telling anyone that. Itachi would be worried.)

Haruno-san tilted her head to one side, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Ah Taichou, the first lesson we learn as medics is to see what the patients don't show or talk about. But," her eyes twinkled, "if it helps you to sleep better at night, then I have to say you're one of the best at pretending you're fine."

In spite of himself, he let out a small laugh at that. Being in Haruno-san's presence seemed to have this effect, any pressure disappeared altogether.

"Still," she continued as she walked to her desk, "we'll have to do something about your problem."

She shuffled the drawers for a while before coming back with a small transparent bottle. Inside it was more than a dozen of little red pills.

"This is something I make," there was a hint of pride in her voice. "It eases your tenseness and makes sleep come easier but unlike soporific drugs, it doesn't increase drowsiness so that you aren't able to react appropriately to any possible threat."

She held up the bottle to him. "Besides," she beamed, "I even make it sweet."

Shisui stared at her. Part of him wanted to ask why put effort in something like making sleeping pill sweet. A larger part wanted to chuckle at the sight of her being visibly pleased with her childlike creation.

At his silence, Haruno-san sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "You don't like sweets, Taichou?"

(Every time he passed by Teyaki-san and Uruchi-san's senbei shop with one or both of his parents, they rarely stopped and would pull his hand harder. Shisui only had time to wave back to the friendly couple.

His parents had little to non-existent indulgence for small pleasures such as enjoying snacks every now and then. Each day was a lesson on how to be the best shinobi. The closest thing to a snack he used to have was his mother's herbal drinks.

"For your health," she always said.

They were often bitter. On good days that they were bittersweet, it was more bitter than sweet.

No one even asked if Shisui wanted them.)

Haruno-san was wearing a look that he couldn't quite identify in her eyes. He wondered, what she was thinking.

When she spoke again, her voice was so tender. "You can try it, Taichou. And if it's not up to your taste," she grinned, "I'm sure I can make something specifically for you."

.

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That night, he fell asleep – a deep and peaceful sleep – to the sweet taste in his mouth and the lingering of a soft voice that was like a lullaby.

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"You're eating lunch here too, Taichou?"

Shisui was enjoying his curry bento on top of the stony head of Nidaime-sama when he felt someone approach. A few seconds later, Haruno-san's voice reached his ears.

He turned his head in time to see her sit down an arm's length away from him. Her legs folded neatly underneath her thighs – proper seiza – with a bento box lying on her lap. As she opened her box, he answered.

"Ah yes, I often bring my lunch here. It has nice view."

Hokage Mountain was the only place that let you view Konoha in its entirety. To the left was where all the training grounds located; distant screaming and sound of jutsu used could be heard. To the right was Hokage Tower, several Anbu were stationed on top of it with some more standing casually on the roofs of nearby buildings. Further away from the front was the Uchiha Compound, and if you had good eyes – like sharingan – you would see it was tightly guarded by dozens of shinobi dressed in high-collared dark shirt and dark pants; each of them had glowing eyes that looked like tiny red dots from here. All the while, past and present leaders of the village overlooked their oblivious people walking – some were in a hurry, some were just strolling – on busy streets decorated by colorful vendor carts.

No place reminded you of village and duty and shinobi like Hokage Mountain.

Perhaps that's why he came here so often.

Shisui tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him then glanced at Haruno-san. She was happily eating her bento, which was full of rice and had a single umeboshi in the centre. It seemed like she didn't have much time to prepare her lunch. Seeing the umeboshi, though, made him remember something.

"Did you put plum in your sleeping pill, Haruno-san?"

Haruno-san perked up.

"You noticed, Taichou?" Her expression brightened, similar to that of Mikoto-san when someone recognized an extra addition in her dishes.

"The taste is faint but I'm quite sure it is plum."

Haruno-san hummed her appreciation, "Yes, it is. It's a great fruit, you know."

Looking at her bento again, he asked, "Do you like plum?"

She used her chopsticks to poke at the umeboshi when she replied, "One of my favorite foods is umeboshi but I like plum in general. Great savor and tons of health benefits. I try to add it in many things."

"Besides," she looked up at him with a smile that was undiluted in its innocence, "some people say plum tree symbolizes happiness and good fortune and who wouldn't want that from time to time?"

Her reason was so simple, so honest, and it put a smile on his face. "Indeed."

They continued with their meals until Haruno-san looked as if she suddenly realized something and turned to him before she spoke.

"Taichou, is Nidaime-sama your favorite Hokage?"

Now that was unexpected. "What makes you think so?"

She scratched the back of her head. Haruno-san did that a lot when she was being embarrassed.

"Oh, you chose to sit on his head. Normally when people come here, they pick their favorite Hokage or the one they think was the coolest. And," she frowned like her words made her upset, "I don't see people favor Nidaime-sama that often so I'm a bit curious."

(On rare occasions that his parents actually displayed some kind of emotion other than the fake neutral indifference, it was to show pride at what had been long lost in the past.

"Our ancestor, Uchiha Kagami, was the only Uchiha that Nidaime-sama put his complete faith upon."

Shisui wondered if that was the only thing left for them to be proud of.)

"He was a formidable shinobi. My parents admired him."

He could have provided a different answer; his choice was random; he didn't think much of Nidaime-sama; it had better view from here. But, Haruno-san was always earnest and sincere and that propelled you to respond to her in kind, preventing you from telling an outright lie. So he settled with what was closest to the truth.

If Haruno-san noticed how he hadn't really answered her question, she didn't comment on it.

"What about you? Do you admire him?" It's his turn to be curious.

Haruno-san contemplated his question for a moment then she slowly said, "Rather than admire, I would say I'm grateful to him."

"Grateful?"

"Yes. Do you know that when our village had just been founded, the Academy only opened to clans' children? However, Nidaime-sama reformed the education system and allowed children from civilian families to enroll."

She smiled, "If it's not for his policy, I wouldn't be able to become a shinobi."

He remembered now. When Sasuke came back from the first meeting with his genin team, he did mention about his female teammate not hailing from a clan. At that time, it had sparked an interest in Shisui; it's normal for children from ninja clans to follow their parents' footsteps but civilian tended to stay away from the horrid life of shinobi. What motivated the girl to follow this path? But ever since he became more acquainted with Haruno-san, her background sort of slipped from his mind. Until today. Not for the first time – after he witnessed, over and over, she defied one of those rules that her much respected Nidaime-sama wrote – he wanted to ask why she desired to be a shinobi in the first place.

And ask he did.

Haruno-san opened her mouth then closed it immediately and repeated this for several times before turning her attention to her bento. Just as he was about to say that she didn't need to answer if it made her uncomfortable, she mumbled with voice so small that he almost didn't catch it.

"When I was eight, I saw Sasuke-kun and Itachi-san practice by chance. Their movements were beautiful it enchanted me so much that I rushed home and told my parents I wanted to be a ninja."

"And your parents didn't object to it?"

She was definitely embarrassed now, with faint slashes of pink decorating her cheeks. "I can be quite…stubborn when I want to."

The pink on her cheeks turned darker and she still refused to look at him. But all Shisui could think of was Haruno-san, even at such a young age, had known what she wanted – no matter how misguided that was – and followed it – the image of her shaky form kneeling next to their fallen comrade was still vivid in his mind – despite every bitter twists and turns.

That's more than anything he could say about himself.

Haruno-san seemed to have regained her composure since she was looking at the front when her calm voice continued, "Anyway, in hindsight, someone as pragmatic as Nidaime-sama probably did that because he wanted to expand the ninja population."

"But," her smile was clear even seen from the side, "at the beginning, it's nice to think that a great shinobi like him saw potential in normal kids like me."

Oh.

Haruno-san's constant confidence had blinded him that he failed to see what lay underneath. It must be hard to step in the ninja world, saw all those advantages a clan child inherit and realized you only had yourself. No guidance, no family jutsu, no one to confide in about the harshness a shinobi must face for children from civilian families. And – he thought of Naruto-kun's tremendous chakra reserve and Sasuke's brilliant talent even from a young age – how one, painfully normal, felt when standing next to abnormalities even by shinobi standards.

But, Shisui remembered the best chakra control he'd ever seen; a keen mind that sometimes caught him off guard; dainty hands that shattered the earth and brought people back from the brink of death despite all the odds stacked against them.

No, Haruno-san wasn't one for him to pity. There was nothing to pity here.

"Either way," he said, with more conviction than he ever recalled, "I'd say Nidaime-sama reached his goal. Two third of our village citizens are shinobi and we have you as a combat-medical ninja on par with Tsunade-hime."

Haruno-san neither hid her widened eyes nor the expression that was a cross between utter confusion and utter amazement.

A few moments ticked by, then her features loosened up and it lightened with her face breaking into a stunning breathtaking radiant smile.

His heart stopped for a split second.

Shisui was thankful for the sudden strong gush of wind that had Haruno-san secure her bento in a hurry, temporarily forgetting to pay him attention. Because, he could feel heat – slowly but surely – rising to his face.

When she turned back to him – there were still remnants of that smile etched on her features – Shisui was once again the composed shinobi that he had always been. As he saw her attempt to smooth down her hair, he noticed she had missed a small leaf being stuck on it. He scooted closer, his hand reaching for her head.

"Haruno-san, you missed this."

Pastel pink tresses were silky against the pads of his calloused fingers. Her hair caught the golden sunlight, turning it into a gleaming stream.

That didn't surprise him. Everything about her shone.

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"By the way, Taichou, you can call me Sakura. 'Haruno-san' is too stiff."

A pause. "I see, Sakura-san. Then please call me Shisui."

A smile. "Okay, Shisui-san."

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She was not a perfect kunoichi, he thought. Instead, Sakura-san was:

Contradictory. Hands that were soaked in blood of those she had killed and healed. All soft curves and femininity accompanied a fist that cut through the earth. Transparent in most days yet still left you ponder on what she was really thinking. Hot-headed with a mind clear enough to see through the most intricate attack pattern. Gentle eyes were followed by a look of steel. Woman and girl rolled into one.

Honest. To people, to her words, to her feelings, to everything she did. There were times when Shisui couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more – knew more, thought more, felt more – than she let on; and you only recognized she was hiding something because you had been observing her closely, not because she let it slip. But if you asked her about it, her answer was sometimes direct, sometimes not, but never a lie, "I don't want to talk about it." She chose to be honest.

Odd. "What are you doing this time?" "Oh, I'm making anmitsu-flavored painkillers." "…Sakura-san, are you trying to promote all of your favorite foods?" "That I am. Do you want to take a look at my strategy plan for that? I think I leave it here…" "Ah, no need to, Sakura-san. I wish you the best of luck with your endeavor." "Thank you, Shisui-san."

Independent. She had her own opinion on anything and everything. How much water you should use to boil egg. How to fold clothes in the shortest time. How to hit vital points with enough pressure to render one unconscious but not enough to kill them. How some of Nidaime-sama's rules were utterly ridiculous. "I thought you said you were grateful to him?" "How does that have anything to do with what I think?"

Determined. "Again, please." "Sakura-san, I think it's time you take a break." "I can still continue our spar, Shisui-san." "No, you don't. You're out of chakra and…" The mark on her forehead lit up, white lines ran along the smooth surface of her exposed skin. "Again, please." He wondered if this was how her parents felt when they couldn't say no to the fire in her eyes, lest they wanted to get burnt by it.

Insecure. By now Sakura-san had grown out of that little girl who was easy to forget if not for her exotic hair. But, at times, she would have this faraway look when she watched Sasuke and Naruto-kun spar, trading back and forth jutsu that were too powerful for their peers and even their seniors; when after she made a mistake – one so insignificant that most people would wave it off; when she didn't perform a task up to her own expectations. He suspected that this part of her – small and not overwhelming and more like a not-so-fond memory that one sporadically thought of – would always be there.

Perceptive. "You have been taking missions that I'm not aware of, right," she said while her glowing hands were hovering above his eyes. He neither confirmed nor denied her question – it sounded more like a statement – and she understood. They would fall into a comfortable silence as her fingers gently tapped on his temples and soothing chakra washed over his exhausted eyes.

Kind. She always did things that her responsibility didn't demand of when she visited a patient. Some days she would stay late at night to whisper bedtime stories to a child. Some days she listened patiently, attentively to an old man retelling the same old tale for the umpteenth time. Some days she just sat there, holding the hand of her patient until they felt into a blissful sleep.

Strong. There was that one time he happened to be at the hospital when she was speaking to a hysterically crying woman. At the sight of Sakura-san's haggard appearance, the slight bow of her head, the way her voice was barely a murmur, Shisui realized this was one of those worst days. Long after the woman had left, she was still standing there with her back leaning on the wall and her eyes closed while facing the ceiling. As a child, Shisui learnt that strength was measured by how many bull's eyes you hit, by the radius of your katon, by the number of lives you took. But watching Sakura-san, he thought, there was strength in the way you used your own hands to wipe the unshed tears, the way you stood a little straighter with a new fire in your eyes and your legs stumbled at first but grew steadier as you slowly moved forwards.

And bright. Days passed with his responsibilities – Konoha, Uchiha – getting heavier and heavier and the nights that he used plum-flavored pills also increased in turn. Its taste that had been altered slightly to his liking just like she promised, lingered until the next morning – when he woke up refreshed and tried to relive the pleasant dream about a young woman, whose mere vision of hers brightened his darkest nights.

(By the seventh month since she joined, his eyes – conscious or not – had started searching for green and pink among the mass of people.)

.

.

.

"They will act soon," Itachi notified.

"They don't know that Yondaime-sama has taken necessary precautions. Their plan won't come to fruition." Shisui said.

"Yes, because they aren't aware of you being the mole."

He didn't reply as he continued to munch on his senbei. Itachi remained quiet for a moment – his gaze didn't lessen its intensity – before he finally spoke again.

"I didn't know you liked senbei."

"Oh. Actually, I just bought this at Teyaki-san's store before I went to meet you. Lovely couple they are. They even gave me free extra. For first-time customer, they said."

At Itachi's contemplative look, Shisui smiled his ever pleasant smile, "Don't worry, I have not forgotten my duty."

"It's just that," his mouth quirked up higher as he thought of plum and Sakura-san, "it's nice to indulge myself once in a while."

.

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.

Shisui didn't know what he had expected for his last mission before turning his full attention on more pressing matters, but he certainly didn't expect a terrible storm coming with heavy rain. Among blackened sky restlessly grumbling and water pouring down over the forest, their team was forced to split before they knew it.

He hoped this rain wasn't a bad omen.

At least he was with Sakura-san; that made the situation better. Right now she was using her inhuman strength to squeeze their soaked cloaks while he was going around the cave that they found shelter in to collect some branches. When he returned to where she sat, Sakura-san was rubbing her hands over her arms.

"It's really cold in here," she muttered.

He arranged the wood on the ground and with quick motion of his hands, a glow of orange mixed with yellow filled the narrow cave.

"Good thing I'm a katon user then," he said as he settled down next to her. "I can keep us warm."

(He was thankful they didn't have to spend the night running under sheets of water. While he could still perform a decent katon in this weather, rain was never an ideal scenario for fire users. He did possess other elemental powers but fire would always be his signature move, his strongest elemental attack, and his reminder of the Uchiha in him. He felt most empowered when using fire so he didn't welcome rain in any shape or form.

Rain had not once brought him good memory anyway.)

Sakura-san let out a small hearty laugh at his words and he wasn't sure what was funny but she looked happy so he left it at that. Then she turned to him, hands already glowing green.

"I think I will check your eyes now."

He nodded his acquiescence and comforting chakra began to seep into his eyes. This had become a common practice between them; she would check for any problem his eyes might have after every mission. At first he declined because he didn't want to trouble her but Sakura-san's stubborn determination always won in the end. He needed his eyes to be at their best condition, anyway.

Besides, it never hurt to have Sakura-san this close to him.

"I have eased your eye strain, but other than that, there's nothing to worry about now," she said as she retracted her hands and he instantly missed her gentle chakra.

"That's good to hear."

"I was worried about the damage being more serious."

"But thanks to you, it won't come to that," he smiled.

She returned his smile, "Well, you should also thank yourself since I can see that you do take good care of your eyes, despite all those jobs you receive from both the Military Police Force and Yondaime-sama."

There was a brief pause before he responded, "Ah, lately I have not been participating much in the Police Force activities. It's my regret that I can't contribute more as a member of the Uchiha clan."

"However," he stared into the fire in front of them, "these missions that take most of my time help our village so I suppose it's worth it."

When Sakura-san was silent for a tad too long, he turned to look at her. The bright light of the fire had created shadows playing across her form. Her face was strongly accentuated, one side clear, one side veiled. The look in her eyes was familiar; he remembered seeing that look at the examination room several months ago and he also remembered wondering the meaning behind it.

"When I was a kid," she started so abruptly, pulling him out of his trance, "when I still called you 'Uchiha-san', I often saw you around the village, dressed in your police uniform."

He wasn't sure where she was going with this but he wouldn't interrupt anything Sakura-san had to say.

"In my eyes at that time, Uchiha-san the Police was…scary," she hesitated for a moment, like it's not quite the word she wanted to use. "Even then, I could see how much dedication you put into your duty, how much you tried to live up to your clan's standards."

The rain hit the cave harshly coupled with moaning wind and screeching lightning. Their campfire flickered so Sakura-san put more wood into it before she continued.

"Ever since I joined your team, you're not so scary anymore," she chuckled as she used a spare branch to poke at the wood. "Yet I think I can still see the same Uchiha-san in my Taichou, working restlessly for others and putting them before him."

"I can't help but wonder one thing, though. 'Uchiha-san' devotes himself to his clan and 'Taichou' places the village above all. But then,"

Now she fully turned to him, her green gaze was clear and sincere like the first time he laid his eyes upon it.

"What does Shisui-san want?"

.

.

.

(On the night he awakened his sharingan, it had been raining too.

The first thing his sharingan saw, was his parents' names on the Memorial Stone. Against the cold downpour, the only thing that could burn was the inferno in his eyes. It burnt until he could see their names in blood-red.

His parents, who had long lost their standing among the clan and who were unable to awake their bloodline limit, returned only as names on a cracked stone slab after they died.

A small snide part in him – thinking of his father and mother's eyes that never turned crimson – was deafening in its whisper, "Your love for the village only amounts that much."

They had lost their lives in the war, in a mission that they volunteered to be the bait so their comrades could come back safely. Oh so much like their beloved Nidaime-sama they must die happy.

What about Shisui then?

What should he feel? Sad? Proud? Enraged?

What should he do? Cry? Scream? Spit?

His parents died leaving their only child: no corpse to bury, no keepsake to hold onto, no more lessons, the nothingness in him.

Still, Shisui remembered: the difference, lessons at his family's porch, herbal drinks, Konoha, and rule twenty-five. He remembered shinobi – the only thing his father and mother had strived for all their life, regardless of their motive.

Now he wanted to laugh because wasn't it funny? For all his parents' effort to drill into his brain that he was different, in the end he was an Uchiha at heart. He, who could no longer distinguish between love and hatred for his parents. He, who chose to honor their wish over everything – his dear clansmen, his village, himself.

He would become a true shinobi, whose meaning was to serve his village in the dark; whose entire being was but a shadow; whose existence would eventually be lost in time.

Like tears in the rain.)

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Long after Sakura-san had fallen asleep, Shisui went out in the violent rain and let the heaven cry upon him.

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"They had set the date." he told Itachi.

His cousin nodded. "Our force is ready. We can intercept them anytime."

"Yes, it's going to be over soon."

(It had been a month since he stopped taking missions; a month without Sakura-san. In the darkest of nights, her question kept replaying in his head.

"What does Shisui-san want?")

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.

.

Someone above must be mocking me.

Shisui thought while sitting under the cascade of water and watching his village from the top of Nidaime-sama's stone head. It had started with a whisper in the air. Then soft pitter-patter sounds came as the first droplets fell down and in mere minutes, he was engulfed by the torrent.

He strained his red eyes to look through the thick wall of rain, to reach a compound lying so far away from Hokage Mountain. There were tiny light dots in that area, possibly coming from the lamps of various households. He thought he could see a flickering light near the centre, where Teyaki-san and Uruchi-san lived.

Too bad I cannot buy their senbei anymore.

But that was alright. No life was taken tonight. The coup d'état had been stopped. Bloodshed among people of the same village wouldn't happen. Tomorrow was another new day with Konoha citizens repeating their routine.

It's a good outcome, he decided, being exiled from his clan was nothing.

Except it was not.

Shisui had believed he was prepared. This was something that the six-year-old boy standing under the downpour – in front of his parents' names – resolved to do. Duty, at the cost of family. Love, at the cost of self.

But reality always bit.

Shisui wasn't sure if their clan had surrendered due to being unexpectedly overwhelmed, or they were simply too shocked to do anything else ever since they saw which side he was on. Itachi had never been shy about his rebellious attitude, but Shisui. Devoted Shisui, who possessed the most powerful genjutsu since Uchiha Madara; who had followed the clan's orders without question; who was one of their greatest prides; who had sworn his love for his kin. That Shisui. The one whom they had trusted to be one of their own.

And Uchiha never forgave a love betrayed.

Like he once said – a love that burned anything and everything.

It's fine, he closed his eyes, the rain will wash away this feeling.

He would be sitting here all night if not for the presence that he had felt even before it revealed itself.

"You will catch a terrible cold," her gentle voice was laced with concern.

She was the last person he wanted to see right now.

"I could say the same about you, Sakura-san. It's best that you go home, I can't keep us warm in weather like this."

Despite the loud drumming against the stone's surface, he heard slow footsteps approach. He refused to face her, intent on keeping his gaze ahead. However, Sakura-san had no interest in looking at his pathetic expression for she sat down right behind him – back to back. There was a faint rustling sound and suddenly the sheet of water parted, not a single drop falling down on where they were sitting. Around them, the rain kept on howling.

"Good thing I'm a suiton user then," she said as her hand tentatively covered his bigger one. "I can shield us from the rain."

Shisui stayed still, because he didn't trust his voice not to quiver. And it was okay. She understood.

He leaned back, wanting to have as much contact with Sakura-san as possible. Her shoulders were still as small but they weren't shaking this time and they held all of his weight unflinchingly.

Her hand was warm against his.

This warmth, he thought, will not be washed away.

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"Shisui-san, I have left clothes for you to change here. Please come to the kitchen when you're done." He heard her call from outside.

He was at Sakura-san's apartment, using her shower. Normally he would think how inappropriate of him to come to a woman's house at this hour and stay overnight. But now he could admit that he didn't want to be alone – especially not when he could stay near Sakura-san.

Shisui turned off the warm water and stepped into the changing room. Her spare clothes for him were neatly folded on the counter. Dark t-shirt and sweatpants. They must belong to one of her teammates; Hatake-san, Naruto-kun, or Sasuke. They were a close-knit team and he knew for a fact that Sasuke frequented her place. Mikoto-san often told him that his younger cousin was with his friends at Sakura-chan's apartment.

He couldn't blame them for liking to go here. Sakura-san's place was small but cozy; everything was kept in order. There was a vague smell of something sweet but not too much. Maybe it came from the various plants and flowers that she had in her home. The moment he stepped into this place, he had noticed how green it was. There was a cactus by the living room's windowsill and a vase of daffodils on her coffee table. At the end of her corridor, he saw plants that he didn't know of. In her bathroom and changing room, he recognized some as aloe vera, orchid, and peace lily.

It's like spring was always here.

When he finished dressing, Shisui stepped outside and walked towards the only source of sound in this house.

Sakura-san's kitchen was just like other parts of her house that he had seen. Clean, warm, with a pleasing smell. On the counter next to her fridge were several jars with tags attached. He could read ginger syrup, green tea, and honey. Sakura-san was currently busy scooping out small spoons of some yellowish-orange liquid from a jar into a glass bowl. It didn't come as a surprise to see plums floating in the jar.

Of course, he smiled to himself.

After sprinkling something that looked like small dried fruit slices on top of the bowl, she beamed as she handed it to him.

"My killer plum syrup lemon jelly! With blueberry topping! The best treat you could have before resting for the day!"

"I see that your promotion campaign is still going strong," he chuckled.

"People literally kill for this, you know," her eyes formed crescent moons.

"I don't doubt that." he agreed heartily.

And at the first spoon, Shisui thought he would kill for this too. The taste of plum and lemon blended in to form a perfect combination. When you swallowed, it melted inside you followed by a cool soothing sensation spreading throughout your body. Any stress you might have seemed to evaporate. Yes, definitely worth killing for.

Moments stretched into long minutes, with the two of them being content with the other's silence. He could still hear the raining noise from outside but it seemed like a distant echo now. When Shisui finished the last of his jelly, he put down the empty bowl and looked at Sakura-san. He was the one to break the silence between them.

"Sakura-san, do you think you would have been happier had you listened to your parents and didn't become a shinobi?"

She neither replied immediately nor did she look away to ponder over his question. In the time that she took to think of an answer, she held his gaze. Finally, her mouth opened.

"I don't know." she admitted.

"You don't know..." he trailed off.

"Yes," she nodded, "sometimes I do think about all the what-could-have-been. But at the end of the day, they are just that and never become the now. I will never know what they would have brought so I prefer to focus on the now."

"So what's about now? Are you happy with your choice?" This was the first time he pressed her on something, but he desperately wanted an answer.

"I would be lying if I said I always was," her brows furrowed and her fist clenched a little as she clearly recalled something unpleasant. "There were, and still are, times when I think it's better if I give up. Still, I'm truly glad that I chose to become a shinobi."

"Why?"

Her face relaxed. "If I didn't, I would never meet them. Ino, Naruto, Sasuke-kun, Kakashi-sensei, Lee-san, Tsunade-shishou, Chiyo-baasama, and,"

Sakura-san smiled then, and he thought of the first sunshine of spring after a prolonged dreary winter. "You too, Shisui-san."

After a moment, in which he was still too stunned by her words to react, she asked softly, "What about you, Shisui-san? Are you happy?"

Was he? He had stopped thinking about what he felt a long time ago. But. He remembered Fugaku-san's relieved face – slight but it's there – when the coup was stopped successfully. Itachi didn't have to resort to ghastly measures, staining his hands with his kin's blood. Sasuke could still be with both his clansmen and precious teammates, not being torn between two sides. Tomorrow Teyaki-san and Uruchi-san would open their shop like any other day, selling the best senbei in the world. And, Sakura-san was here, offering her killer plum syrup lemon jelly and telling him with a heartfelt smile that she was glad she met him.

"Yes," Shisui answered, sincere and certain than he ever remembered, "I am truly happy."

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.

.

When he woke up on the next morning it was at half past eight. This was the first time in his entire life that he slept in. Shisui wasn't bothered, though; he never had a sleep that serene. No worry, no nightmare, just sleeping blissfully until morning came.

Sakura-san was nowhere in sight. She had gone to the hospital as the note on her kitchen table said. He almost wanted to giggle at her scrawly handwriting. For a neat and meticulous person, her handwriting left much to desire. Must be a doctor's thing, he amusedly thought.

Shisui eyed the meal that she had prepared for him. Three umeboshi onigiri – how unsurprising, he smiled – with a bowl of pork miso soup. He sat down and began to eat his breakfast.

As he munched on his onigiri and in between sips of the miso soup, which still had lingering warmness, he thought about Sakura-san.

Some people, like Naruto-kun, was as warm as the sun; scorching in its heat and might set others on fire. Sakura-san's warmth was more subtle; you wouldn't notice it right away. It was like the sake cups you shared with your father in winter; the freshly cooked meals from your mother; the kotatsu that families gathered around in chilly days. Her warmth seeped into your body bit by bit and made a home there.

And before you knew it, you were already in too deep.

.

.

.

Life moved on after that.

Following the failed coup, Itachi and Shisui continued to support Yondaime-sama in integrating the clans more fully into Konoha. They all knew the faults didn't lie in just one side; in order to achieve real peace among the village, mutual effort was required. This new policy would also prevent any possible coup that might be boiling. There was still tension with the Uchiha, which was to be expected after what happened, but they had shown that they were willing to try if given a chance. That was enough for now.

And sometimes when Shisui bumped into Uchiha elders after their meeting with the Hokage, their heads would incline a fraction in acknowledgement before they walked off.

Baby steps, he supposed.

As for Shisui, he resumed working as a captain and taking missions again. Itachi and Sasuke had helped him to move in his new apartment. It's small, suitable for one or two people, but had great view. The three of them met twice a week, to update about what was going on from both sides. If they had time, they would spar together. These days, Shisui didn't restrain as much as before, especially if the opponent was Sasuke. He often one-upped his little cousin through methods that he knew would annoy him. He had taken an interest in riling the dork – yes, that's what Sasuke was beneath the mighty Uchiha charade. If he lost, Sasuke would bring senbei the next time they met, saying it's a tribute to the winner. A kind dork.

His conversations with Itachi weren't all about shinobi, village, and clan like before. They also talked about mundane things like Mikoto-san's new recipe, the dango shop near Konoha's market, and so on. Itachi looked more his age; the tear troughs weren't that prominent anymore. He also tended to react more visibly now. Shisui once told him that he should invite Izumi-san to the dango shop and Itachi looked away rather quickly. Maybe to hide his pink-tinted cheeks.

Life was treating him good.

Sakura and he became closer. They were 'Shisui' and 'Sakura' now, honorifics forgone. They met outside of professional occasions. She took him to all her favorite sweets shops; sometimes it's her treat, sometimes it's his. Many Sunday mornings were spent on sharing knowledge about herbs and weapons. He regularly made time to fetch her from work; once in a while they ate dinner at a nice restaurant. If they were both available, they would have lunch together on top of Nidaime-sama, with their arms touching and talking about nothing and everything.

Like what they were doing right now.

Sakura was laughing as she told him about Naruto-kun's latest prank on Hatake-san. In her excitement she didn't notice the orange smear at the corner of her mouth – it's plum jam this time. When Shisui pointed that out to her with the added comment that she looked like a little kid, Sakura responded with an indignant huff and whipped her head to the side, her arms crossed.

Shisui did laugh out loud at that. Because Sakura was acting very much like the kid he accused her of and it was both childish and endearing. He raised his hands in a placating gesture but she was too busy ignoring him to see it. So he reached out to her, his hand gently turned her head back to face him. He used his thumb to rub the smear but that only seemed to make it spread wider thus eliciting another laugh from him.

Sakura pouted and it drew his eyes to her plump lips. These lips had always asked him what he wanted. Nowadays he didn't give much thought to that question, because he was living his life. But at this very moment, her question came back and Shisui knew the answer.

His head dipped down – carefully, slowly, giving her time to turn away if he was making her uncomfortable – and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, tasting the savory flavor of plum, of happiness.

Then he moved back and looked at her – glimmering green eyes, flushed cheeks, so beautiful. Shisui smiled. The smile he remembered having back in those rare days, when his father was busy and he was free to chase after the bluebird. His smile brightened more while saying the words that he had wanted to tell her for a long time.

"I love you."

A/N: ShisuiSaku needs more love, period. By the way, if anyone of you wonders, Shisui is 26 while Sakura is 18 at the beginning of this fic.

The second chapter will be told from Sakura's POV because a love story needs mutual development and a love confession should always be answered, be it a yes or no xD. Initially I wanted Shisui and Sakura to take turn to narrate but I think it would disrupt the flow of the story. This is smoother and gives more insight to their thinking. On a side note, the scene in which Sakura used suiton was totally added because I'm forever bitter that she doesn't use her elemental power in the manga lol.

The idea for this fic came to me five years ago and I actually wrote the first few sentences. Then my laziness got in the way. The main theme hasn't changed at all but my take on it did. Drastically. I wanted to write a fluff fic like my SasoSaku one but got stuck because I didn't know how I should write Shisui. As much as I am fascinated by him, I admit that he is an 'empty' character. All we know about him from the manga is that he is very ideal – as an Uchiha, as a shinobi. And even that is seen through the eyes of other characters; he never makes a direct appearance. We know nothing about his background, his likes and dislikes, what makes him tick, etc. So yeah, I took my inspiration from there and wrote this monster. God, this is longer than anything I've ever written; not to mention I still have part II to take care of...

Anyway, I haven't been writing anything for five years so I'm not sure about the quality of this fic. Truth be told, I'm quite nervous to post it. So if you like my fic, review pretty please :3. And add it to your fave/alert if you can xD.