49title: Ginseng and Honey
by: WhisperedSilvers
summary: "And I, so wanted to be wanted by you." — Shisui-centric ; Itachi/Sakura ; Shisui/Sakura
note: commissioned for naplunamod
There is something dangerous about lifelines. Lifelines are of the predetermined, of fate, of destiny, of fortune and just a little bit of luck. It is foolish to place such blind trust in such an old-time, ancient and fable-like tale. His grandmother was adamant on such talks, that the Gods are nothing but merciful on those that prayed and believed.
But Shisui is not one of those people.
Shisui lives with purpose, with determination, with empathy, for justice, and most importantly; honestly.
Growing up in the urban district of the Fire Capital meant that he's seen and heard things that he shouldn't have seen and heard from that age. Perhaps, it was a matter of time. Coming from a militaristic and heavily political-influenced family, it was inevitable that his child-like innocence and purity would shatter the same way his perception of the world did.
Itachi, Shisui's cousin was not so lucky. Itachi was pushed beyond his limits from his toddler years and took everything in stride. It was unhealthy, but it wasn't unknown because of his heritage.
So when Shisui received a slash wound right across his palm from his last undercover assignment, which had effectively marred the pale, puckered skin, and disfigured his lifelines with an ugly scar; he had to wonder.
Wonder if this could mean something.
.
Sui-La is on the outskirts of Konoha, a few hundred miles away from the capital and while it would have been prudent for him to locate to another country – there is something brilliant in the ideology of hiding in plain sight.
It's a rural area, with plenty of land and scattered houses. It has a small town located in the center of Sui-La with your markets, clothing stores, bakeries and butcher shops. It's not terribly far from the houses – considering that the houses surround the town – but it is a distance. From rolling green hills, golden wheat loitering the sides of the cottages and a ravine that really had a mind of its own — it's quiet and quaint.
Shisui can smell the leaves and the trees. The warm sunshine bathing against gardenias and peonies. The soft clinking of the wooden well tapping against the walls and the soft twinkle of wind chimes.
It's a shame he has to unpack because if not, he would have laid on the grass and basked in the sun like a sleepy cat.
.
Unpacking, is honestly, such a pain in the ass. He scowls at the sight of his boxes marked fragile, huddled in a corner, ready to be ripped open and tossed to the side. There are sets of plates, white-bone china and crystal glasses tucked in Styrofoam. Sighing in defeat, he decides to leave the boxcutter on his granite countertop and take a walk.
No sense in being restless, he thinks.
The cobblestone and dry pebbles crush beneath his footsteps. A willow tree stands proudly at the corner of his driveway, shadowing the rosebushes that hide there and the birds that sing in their baths. He brushes a weeping branch, the small bumps of buds swipe over the pad of his thumb.
Something bright and pink catches the corner of his eyes.
But it's gone the moment he turns his head.
.
The next time he catches the glimmer of pink, he retracts his first deduction. It's not pink, but pearl. A pinkish-white, that bleeds into deep ginger and hides in between petals. It's hair. Shisui knows it sounds ridiculous, but she has pink hair. He can't see her face, the tops of her face overshadowed by her straw hat, she's wearing a lilac covered blouse and white joggers that are too light in color to be down in the dirt.
But maybe it is the sun that makes it plausible.
The sun certainly is brighter and stronger in this part of Leaf. It was hotter in the capital, but the sun was not so cruel. Perhaps it's a compromise. It's much cooler here in Sui-La, after all.
Shisui watches her carry a crate of dirt. He squints his eyes, well, at least it looks like dirt. Dirt capped with small white pebbles and green saplings, twisted in its roots. She crouches with the plastic crate and picks up a pouch of dirt – plants he realizes later – and places them in a small well. Nimble fingers rotate the roots until they're even and pats them down gently.
Rinse and repeat.
Shisui's not sure how long he's standing there, watching her plant her sprouts, there's a heat at the back of his neck that rolls down his spine and sits at the base of his feet.
He takes refuge from the beaming, bright sun, underneath a tree and when he turns back to look at her—
—she's gone.
.
Parts of him – the childish, wonderous, almost innocent part of him, the part of him that refused to die deep down inside because there is still faith – believes that she is not real. That, that pink sprite he caught a glimpse of the day before yesterday, was nothing but a figment of his imagination.
He pours himself a cup of green tea and sits at the counter.
Mikoto-obaa would have scolded if she found out that he did not have a traditional dining set. Shisui really loves his countertop, he likes the white and cobalt swirl of the marble. He likes the glossy surface and the smoothness of the cut. He likes that he can sit in his stool and swirl. To twirl around and see the sunbeams peer from the curtains disperse into the air.
He thinks, that maybe the countertop is counter-intuitive because in order to make use of the counter, he would have to cook and his younger cousin, swears, to this day, that his riceballs almost killed him.
Shisui refused to speak with him for five days.
He's hungry and bored and miserable.
When he leaves his house and locks his door; he sees her in cropped jeans and a white blouse.
Her nimble, fairy fingers brush the stems of her daises.
.
"Here you go, hotshot," Guren – is her name, judging from her nametag – places a bowl of soup in front of him and a side of seaweed salad, "Are you sure you don't want a sandwich or something?" she looks at him warily, "It's kinda hot for a soup."
"It's never too hot for soup," Shisui gives her a friendly smile and then tilts his head, "Hotshot?"
"There are tons of rumors about you, y'know," her voice drawls, a faint accent tugging on the last word, "Some say you're a spy, some say you're the leader of a drug ring, some say you're a runaway prince in search of his bride to ease the loneliness of solitude," she snorts at that, "I've seen that look in plenty of eyes before, boy. You got grit. You a soldier?"
There are faint hints of truth in those rumors. He had worked as a spy for a leader in a drug ring, but he was no prince and he wasn't looking for a bride; his eyes were still searching for that pink nymph. So maybe she wasn't wrong.
"No ma'am," Shisui grins, "Not a soldier. I think there are too many of those around anyway."
He's an ex-cop; one step below a soldier, but one step above a civilian.
Guren nods and looks at him warily. She smiles, nice and sharp, "I'll figure you out one day, moptop."
.
Shisui muses over what Guren had told him. A lot of people are suspicious in the town. Perhaps because Sui-la is a rural area; people move out, not in. Maybe, he wants to get out of the city are and live a life of simplicity, he defends himself. There's nothing wrong or weird about him living here.
The truth is, after busting Danzo's drug ring, undercover, there have been several assassination attempts on his life. Laying low and moving out of the city was his best bet. Mikoto-obaa was tearful, but understanding when he had told her that he was leaving. Itachi – his poor, sweet baby cousin – was disheartened, but not entirely angry at him. He was angry at the chain of events.
The townsfolk intuition was spot on.
But Shisui did not want to give his secrets away.
.
"Ginger?" Shisui picks up a clump of gold-colored fiber that he found on the floor outside of the diner. Poleaxed by the strange herb – is it? – he stares at the markings on the fibers. It's thin, superbly grated, almost like fine hairs and it looks fresh. The person who shaved this plant has deft fingers, skillful to that with a blade.
"Oh, sorry about that. I hadn't realized that it fell out of my box," a voice spoke, airy and light as the wind itself.
Shisui turns around slowly, kind of like how the sun bleeds right before it sets. The air leaves his lungs with a loud snap when his eyes set over her. The pink-haired sprite, with a smidge of dirt marring her chin and her hair tousled from the wind.
He swallows, he crushes down the small thrill of elation – he's found her – and asks, "This is yours?"
She nods and lifts up her palm for him to give it to her, "It's for the shop."
Shisui hands it to her and asks, "The shop?"
She furrows thin, soft brows, and blinks her green – really greengreen eyes – at him, "You're new here, aren't you?"
He grimaces, scratches the back of his head, and admits ruefully, "That obvious, huh?"
She smiles at him, a dimple twitching underneath her chin, and shoves the pouch in her messenger bag, "I'm the only one with a pharmacy, here."
Shisui blinks this time, "You're a doctor?"
"I prefer the term, herbalist. But I do have MD certifications," she shrugs and lifts her hand, "Haruno Sakura."
He takes it – with shaky fingers and glitter in his eyes – "Uchiha Shisui."
.
"I didn't even—" Sakura stammers, perplexed by the situation, "I didn't realize that I had a new neighbor. Hay season makes everyone jumpy, I've been so busy," she frowns more to herself than to him, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself to you earlier."
Shisui snorts and waves it off. He makes her a cup of tea; jasmine, for the nerves. "It's not that big of a deal, Sakura."
He loves how her name leaves his mouth.
"But, as one of the town's very few doctors, I should at least say something," Sakura argues, she swivels on his stool – just like him, he thinks gleeful – she continues, "I mean it's just bad manners, not to say anything."
He places a cup of tea in front of her. Shisui shrugs and leans over his island, he smoothens her temper with his next few words, "I still ended up meeting you, no?"
She sips her tea and gives him a withering look. Shaking her head, she smiles ruefully, "I guess so."
"If you want to make it up for me," Shisui looks at his fingernails both deliberately and dramatically, "You can make me dinner."
He wonders if he's a little too bold.
Sakura's laugh sounds like wind chimes, "If you wanted a free meal, all you had to do was ask."
His face is warm, part of him wanted to pout and the other wanted to bury his face in his palm, to hide his flush, but he settles for a small, sweet smile.
Still, she laughs anyway.
.
"I think you make better curry than my aunt," Shisui very nearly gasps at the taste of the pork, "Is this pumpkin?"
Sakura nods, "And potatoes."
"Seriously, where did you learn to cook," he asks a few minutes later, "I can only cook noodles and more noodles."
She grins at the thought, "No rice?"
He shakes his head.
"I sense that there's a story behind that," Sakura assumes jovially, "But as for mine, well, my mentor used to tell me: whether it be food or medicine, every ingredient counts. I took that lesson with me whenever I make something. As a farmer, I'm very careful about the way I grow my herbs and spices."
"You're not one of those health nuts, right?" Shisui inquires warily.
She rolls mint-colored eyes and gives him a dry look, "No. But I am super cautious when I buy ingredients. I think maybe because I'm a doctor, I know what certain foods and ingredients do to you."
"Does it ever bother you?"
Sakura tilts her head, "What do you mean?"
"The fact that you're so aware of all the ingredients, that you don't buy certain ingredients even though it's convenient to," he's not sure if he's making any sense, but anything to keep her talking.
"I think quality triumphs quantity," she quirks a brow, "Don't you think?"
Food for thought, he reflects.
.
"So, what are these?" Shisui picks up a sprig of something purple.
"Lavender," Sakura answers and continues spraying her plants with water, "A cousin of lavender actually. It helps people sleep."
"Do you make them into pills?"
"No," she shakes her head, the sun hot on her shoulders, "Those take too much time and I don't have the equipment for stuff like that, anyway. My pharmacy consists more of a holistic approach I guess. Oils and tea and creams," she tosses him a spray bottle and points at her roses, "True pharmaceutical things I stay away from. Vaccines are probably the only real medical thing I do."
Shisui looks at her and asks curiously, "Why do you seem like…"
Sakura grimaces, "Like I hate modern medicine? I don't hate it, but most companies – I'm sure since you've it in the capital – they always have an ulterior motive. Tsunade-shishou was always exasperated that I didn't go more into the high-tech field. Pills and injections. Potent stuff. I always liked the natural way."
Shisui thinks that Sakura's view on medicine should always start from the heart. Earnest and honest. To do good without expecting anything in return. Healing is both taxing on the mind and body.
Sakura starts with your mind and works her way into your body.
It's been that way since he first saw her.
A few glimpses of that bright, pearl-colored hair and then she seeps in, like warm sunlight.
.
"So what do you do?" Sakura asks one day. They lay side by side underneath Shisui's weeping willow, hidden from the sun's glare and the sky's smile.
"What?" Shisui blinks at the sudden question, he twists his head to look at her cheek that's upside-down. She's at twelve o'clock position and he's a six.
"It's just that you never talk about your job or you know…where you came from," she quickly adds in, "And I've known you for like three months."
He thinks about it, "What is this town called?"
"Tsubaki," she says obviously.
"Have you ever left Tsubaki or Sui-La before?"
Sakura makes a sound, "A few times. I went to the Water capital in Wave and a small town in Wind."
"Have you ever been to the Fire capital?" he asks curiously.
"Never needed to," she says honestly.
Shisui sighs, "The Fire capital, in a word, is paranoid. Leaf is a militaristic country, but most of the military is in the capital. Lots of civilians choose to live outside the capital, just because the city-life is extremely busy and to go to a lot of places, you have to have clearance."
"Like security clearance?"
He hums, "Sort of. Mostly political power. Usually, you have to be a part of a clan. It's hard to explain. I was part of the police force."
Shisui can hear the soft crush of grass, the gentle flutter of cloth – her sundress – and the click of joints. Her eyes are heavy with interest and she looks at him. Pink hair delicate in skylight and shade, she breathes with surprise, "You're an officer?"
"Ex-cop—sergeant, whatever you wanna call it," he blinks at her, almost mesmerized by the way her lashes flutter in interest.
"Why'd you leave?" she rambles, "Did you uncover something bad? Political assassination? Are you on the run? Are you looking for someone? You're on a protection detail?"
Shisui laughs deep and wonderful, "What is with you and Guren-san? Are you watching a drama or something?"
Sakura flushes and sits up, "It just sounds exciting."
"The details are classified," he tells her after a bit, "But, I did uncover something. I had to leave the force because people found out about me."
"You were undercover?" her eyebrows raised.
"Yep,"
"So, it had to be something important?" Sakura muses, "Important enough to force you into hiding."
"I never said I was in hiding," Shisui narrows his eyes.
"You didn't have to," she snorts, her fingers thread in the blades of grass, "No one comes to Tsubaki just to live. What else can you tell me?"
Shisui realizes, that Sakura isn't just intelligent, but brilliant.
.
"Did you ever get shot?"
"…maybe?"
A fumble of fingers.
"Don't look at me like that—I'm not telling you anything."
"But you can!"
"I could, but you look like you're about to jump out the window."
"…from excitement!"
"I'm glad that my pain makes you happy."
"Oh, shut up Shisui."
.
"How much sugar are you putting in your noodles, Shisui?" Sakura asks in disbelief from across the counter, her heels pressing against the metal rim.
"Enough," Shisui answers and tosses another spoonful, "I like my noodles sticky."
"So like, candy?"
"Sakura," he starts and tosses in a splash of soy sauce, "You should not be talking about candy, especially when your hair looks like cotton candy."
She scoffs, "And what about your hair?"
He cocks an eyebrow, "And what exactly is wrong with my hair?"
"It looks like," she pauses and brows furrow with her, "Looks like…"
Shisui smiles smugly, "Like?"
Sakura huffs, "Don't worry I'll think of something."
.
"Happy birthday!" Sakura surprises him with takeout at his front door.
Takeout.
Shisui stares at her, part of him is convinced that she is in fact, an alien, because his Sakura, his Sakura, does not believe in fast food, much more, consuming fast food.
"Who are you and what have you done with my pink-haired flower sniffer?"
She ogles, "Flower sniffer?"
He shrugs nonchalantly, "The real Haruno Sakura does not even dream of take-out!"
Sakura rolls those pretty little eyes of hers and shoves her shoulder into his chest, as she walks into his kitchen. "This is not takeout. This is restaurant food."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"I happen to know the owner," she says pointedly, "I trust them. They make good, wholesome food."
"I suppose this scallion pancake drenched in oil is good for me," Shisui snickers as he opens a box.
"It's avocado oil," she winks, "And sometimes you need a little trouble to remember the good stuff."
"Wow, doc," he comments, touched, "A doctor giving me takeout. The scandal."
"Ungrateful."
Shisui laughs and tucks into his fried chicken, "Never for you, Sakura."
Happy birthday to me.
.
"Do you drink it black, because it's the color of your soul?" Guren asks one day, pouring him another cup, of black, tar-colored coffee.
"Did you swallow that tin of cherry pie because you're just such a treat?" Shisui asks sarcastically.
She furrows her brows, "You're getting a little sassy there, boy. Been hanging out with the doctor too much, it seems."
"Why do you think it's her?" he asks a little too quickly; he mentally backtracks. What kind of ex-cop is he? Eager for a little pink-haired sprite, so it seems, he hums the chorus of bluebird.
Guren snorts, "I'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not notice the way you look at her, boy. You look at her the same way children look at the stars. Full of wonder. Full of awe. No parts confused."
Shisui doesn't speak, his face, hot and tiny beneath her scrutiny. Clearing his throat, he says, "She's my neighbor."
She cackles, "How convenient."
The door opens, the thrill of the wind chimes is the only indication of a new visitor, in a rush of air, a hand latches onto Shisui's forearm and his lips barely brush her nose.
"Shisui," Sakura breathes and breathes, like she's out of air, like she ran—he narrows his eyes.
That's exactly what she looks like; out of breath.
Immediately, adrenaline and embers begin to pump in his blood, ink glazes over, "Sakura, is everything—"
And Shisui most certainly does not yelp when she drags him out of the diner, tossing some yen on the countertop and pulls.
Sakura may have looked like she was exhausted, but the way she yanks him down the street is nothing but a testament of her own strength.
His sprite is both earth and fire.
.
January 22, 2019
194, Ashura Ave, Tsubaki,
Sui-La District, Leaf
To Haruno Sakura:
This letter shall serve as a formal notice of my intent to file a lawsuit against you, Haruno Sakura, due to defamation, harassment, abuse of process, intentional infliction of emotional distress and false registers against my client, Orochimaru [redacted]. Under Section eight of The Agriculture and Science Act, in Leaf legislation and again in the Administrative & Corporate Health Bill, Clause Eight, subsection Four of Hashirama Code.
On 4/23/10, you have filed against my client for the reasoning of medical malpractice, experimentation on minors, collateral damage of those minors, illegal pharmaceutical brokering, and after investigation, you have forced my client out of the comfort of his own home and into a land that was full of [redacted].
Fire Capital General Court states that you must cease all activity until you have produced validation that what you have claimed, will stand in the court of law. It is quite evident, that you have no such proof of your alleged statements against my client. I'm sure you know that this is still an ongoing investigation, pending nine years.
Kindly treat the matter as urgent, but in case you require clarification, contact your local lawyer, if you do not have the means to find one, speak with your district representative. Your case number is 2039103.
Faithfully,
Yakushi Kabuto, Attorney
Immortality & CO.
Fire Capital, Leaf
.
"An intent to sue?" Shisui's eyebrows and voice both raise in pitch, "What—Sakura, what the hell is this?"
She rubs her face tiredly, "About ten years ago, my mentor Tsunade had this friend, Orochimaru," she wrinkles her nose in distaste, "He was also a doctor, but a shady one. He used to test his drugs on children, drugs that were never approved by the capital and council. He also shipped in hallucinogens and depressants from Lightning. He made drugs, even the bad ones and sold them to people for a lot of money."
Shisui's eyes sharpen, "A drug ring?"
Sakura shrugs, "He was the one making them, but I don't know where the product goes. The only evidence that I found was a vial of drugs. I didn't know what to do with it. I gave it to Tsunade-shishou and she took it to Sand. I haven't heard from her since."
"What about the experimentations?"
"I found a chamber," she pales at the thought, "Somewhere behind the meadows. It had boards and chains and things you would see in torture rooms, but I ran out before I had a good look around. I don't remember where it was."
"And the pending?"
"Tsunade-shishou's other friend Jiraiya found some stuff, true stuff about Orochimaru going behind the council and it took away his medical license, but because that ended up being true, they're still investigating to find out what other stuff he's been doing behind the capital's back," Sakura admits.
Shisui bites the inside of his lip and sighs, "Okay, I have an idea."
She brightens, "Really?"
His fingers brush the side of her cheek, "It's a longshot, but it might work."
Shisui would rather cut off his own hand than watch her suffer.
.
"What?" his younger cousin does not sound amused.
Shisui sighs, leans against his counter and clutches his phone tighter, "You heard me."
"You know, family, normal family," Itachi starts dryly, "Calls in to check up on their family. They ask about their health, see if their happy and if they're eating well."
The older Uchiha snorts, "Your mother does that on a daily basis," still, he asks good-naturedly, "Are you eating well, Itachi?"
There's a sigh from the end of the call, "What did you get yourself into, Shisui?"
"I didn't do anything," Shisui says adamantly, "I have this friend. She's being sued by some guy named Orochimaru for medical malpractice and well, it's a list of other… highly complicated words. She said she filed a complaint or petition – I can't remember the word to be honest – almost ten years ago and they found out. The investigation into Orochimaru about hiding evidence and information panned out. It took away his medical license, but they're still investigating for her other claims."
"…for nine years?"
"That's what I said!" he exclaims and swirls in his chair, "So, I said that I knew someone that can take her case for her. So, when can you get here?"
.
"…"
"Itachi?"
"…"
"Don't give me that look, Itachi,"
"I'm not giving you a look!" a pause, "We're on the phone."
"Itachi, I can hear you giving me a look."
.
"Little cousin," Shisui says patiently, "I have a feeling that this might have to do with Danzo."
There's a pause.
"Danzo," Itachi says slowly, there's a crackle over the receiver, "Like the Danzo who you—"
"Yes," he answers firmly.
There's a softer silence, "I'll be there in three days. Please buy something other than noodles and convenience store sushi to put in your fridge."
Shisui sputters in disbelief.
Brat.
.
"Sakura, this is my younger cousin, Itachi," Shisui introduce his cute, little cousin to his pink-haired sprite with an oversaturated amount of enthusiasm and swings his arm around her shoulders, "Itachi, this is my neighbor, best friend, medical marvel—soulmate."
The last part, unknown to the two of them, is said with the utmost honesty and zeal, that's impossible to discern between the truth and an exaggeration.
Because it's a little bit of both if Shisui is being honest.
Itachi blinks down at the small doctor, inclines his head and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Shisui tells me a lot about you."
Sakura smiles shyly, glancing upwards at Shisui, and teases, "So you do talk about me."
He rolls his eyes, "Of course, I do. You're my best friend."
"I thought I was your best friend?" Itachi frowns.
"Cousins don't count," Sakura nods her head more to herself and then clarifies, "It has to be a stranger."
Itachi, if Shisui has to comment, looks a bit miffed. He tries not to laugh at his cousin's adorable antics, but settles for a pat on his shoulder, "Don't worry. I still like you better than Sasuke-chan."
He snorts.
"Sasuke?" Sakura says quizzically.
"My younger brother," Itachi answers and settles deeper into Shisui's couch, "He's quite a…character."
"That's one way of putting it," Shisui quips, "Anyway, Itachi will be taking your case."
Sakura nods expecting as much, she turns her head to face Itachi and says softly, "Please take care of me."
Itachi is not prepared for the sudden flush against his cheekbones.
But neither is Shisui.
.
Shisui had thought, that this originally was a perhaps a genius idea. He would see his cousin, who he hasn't seen in nearly eight months, he would spend even more time with Sakura and she would feed him. His two favorite people in the world, side by side in Sui-La.
Something bitter and acidic singes the rooftop of his mouth when he watches the way Itachi looks at Sakura.
Something terrible brews in his stomach as he watches Itachi attempt to speak to Sakura, with shaky hands and pink cheeks.
But it's nothing compared, to that something painful, that registers in his mind when he watches Sakura reciprocate.
.
"This is all the paperwork," Shisui, gleefully, no parts sympathetic drops a boatload of documents on to Itachi's makeshift desk in the corner of the living room, "Sakura's still looking for her other documents. Something about records."
Itachi looks at the mountain of papers with dismay and a little bit of hate, "Where is the most recent letter?"
"Check under the incarcerate Orochimaru and burn section," he replies seriously.
Itachi looks at him.
Shisui shrugs, "Sakura said it was therapeutic."
The young lawyer looks at the pile with a grimace, his fingers twitch against a manila folder, "Therapeutic she says."
.
Shisui decides, against his instincts – in this case his heart – that his best bet, for both his sanity and his health, is to distract himself with police work. Despite being an ex-cop, there are some things you just don't forget. While he isn't exactly the best, law-savvy officer there is, he knows where to look for evidence and how to exploit it.
He starts with simple things.
"What do you know about Sakura's old mentor? I think she used to live here, right?" Shisui asks Guren as he pokes his toast soaked in cream.
"You're talking about that slug lady?" Guren wipes down the counter and quirks a brow at the sudden question.
"Slug lady?" Shisui wonders if he's heard that right.
"Yep," Guren nods her head, "She created a muscle relaxant for torn muscles and tendons made out of snail mucus. It got famous real quick. It's mostly sold in the capital, but Sakura can make them for the blacksmiths and farmers here; people who need them."
Shisui blinks and remembers that some officers use this drug when they had a particularly brutal training session, "Emeren?"
"That's it," she pauses her movements in the sink and looks at him, "Why you wanna know?"
He shrugs innocently, "Sakura misses her."
Guren sighs, "You got it bad, don't you?"
He stabs his strawberry with a little too much violence to be considered healthy.
.
Shisui has a whiteboard in his room. He scribbles down keywords in a descending pattern; the most important subject goes at the top and those that are a little less than important go at the bottom.
Tsunade has gone into the wind.
But metaphorically and literally. According to Guren and to what Sakura had said, the last time Tsunade had any contact with her apprentice, she had been in Wind country, somewhere in the Sand capital, but since then, there have been no sightings of her.
In his experience, that either meant, one of three things:
One, she found something.
Two, she found something that's highly incrementing and needs to be in hiding because of the severity of what she has found.
Or three, she's dead.
The latter is less likely because reports say that Jiraiya is alive and kicking, and if Tsunade and Jiraiya are as close as Sakura says there are, there would've been reports of him around her, yet, there is nothing.
So, either Jiraiya is planning something or he's gone into the wind as well.
.
"Unlikely," Itachi agrees with his cousin's thoughts, "Jiraiya is a porn writer—that's his day job. He's actually an intelligence officer for the council."
Shisui's eyebrows snap upwards.
"Clearance on his identity is limited to probably seven people within the entire capital," Itachi adds, "Hatake-sama is the one who implemented him."
"Are you allowed to tell me this?"
He snorted, "Yes. Jiraiya has been investigating Danzo for years, according to the records, Sakura's gotten enough evidence to convict Orochimaru who is selling to Danzo for his drug trade."
"We're still missing the link between Danzo and Orochimaru, though," Shisui points out.
"We need something solid," Itachi says grimly, "If you can get me something that can convict Orochimaru, I may be able to link Danzo to Orochimaru."
"What kind of something?"
"Sakura said something about experimentation?" he tilts his head and looks at a document, "If you can get me any evidence," he pauses and looks at his cousin with exasperation, "Legally. I can make a case."
Shisui rolls his eyes, "I can get it legally."
Itachi gives him a look, "That means maiming, psychological torture, b&e, theft, and all that other…stuff is prohibited."
He pauses, "I can do that, besides," he grins, "Psychological torture is more of your thing."
Lawyer.
.
"You've been avoiding me," Sakura confronts Shisui, who is laying underneath his willow tree, in front of his house and stands above his head.
Shisui scoffs and his heart squeezes in recognition, "I am not."
"Liar," she says with no real heat, "I haven't seen you in almost a week and we live next to each other."
"I've been busy," he swallows when she takes a seat next to him.
"Busy doing what?"
"Working on your case, obviously," Shisui winces when his words come out sharp and disinterested.
Irritation licks at the back of her throat and flares in her stomach. She scowls and hates that she's coming off needy, "Obviously? I wouldn't know, you haven't spoken to me or sent me a text or anything to tell that you were alive this past week."
He sighs, part of him wants to be honest and tell her that seeing her with Itachi is physically killing him, instead, he feeds her a bit of information, "This case is…a lot more complicated than I thought."
Sakura's face morphs into confusion, "What?"
"The man Orochimaru was selling drugs to was the man I was working for, undercover," Shisui says quietly, "The reason why I'm not a cop anymore."
Her face softens, "Oh."
"Yeah," Shisui rolls over onto his stomach.
"I didn't—" Sakura struggles with speaking, emerald orbs a gentle seafoam, "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."
Shisui wishes for the earth to swallow him because lying to her makes him hate himself and he would rather shove coals down his throat than look at the glossy green eyes glistening with guilt and gloom.
.
"We don't have to do this," Shisui tells her gently, he tightens the strap on his backpack, and looks at her, "You can just point me in the direction."
Sakura shakes her head, "No. I have—need to go," she exhales, "It's the only way I can…" she trails off not knowing what to say.
But Shisui understands, even if Itachi is hell-bent on keeping her pretty, pink, pixie-like self behind him.
"Itachi," he says, "We'll be back in a couple of hours," he pauses and grimaces at the sight of the meadows, "The chances of us finding this damn lab is super slim anyway."
She needs closure.
Itachi levels with him and turns to Sakura, "Be back before sundown."
Shisui rolls his eyes, "She'll be fine. She's with me."
I can take care of her just fine and there's nothing, absolutely nothing, remotely wrong with her depending on me! I met her first! She saw me first!
Is what he really wants to say, but Itachi smiles, "I know."
Shisui hates himself a little more and hopes, that his next intake of air, isn't painful.
.
They find the underground chamber after two hours and it's taking everything inside Shisui, not to grab Sakura and run.
First things, first.
Pictures.
Lots and lots of pictures.
Then to collect evidence, place them in tiny Ziploc bags and toss them into his backpack.
He looks at Sakura who just grabs onto the back of his shirt.
Shisui inhales shakily, one step at a time.
One step, he thinks, one step at a time.
.
The night is dark, dusky, spilling moon-rivers over the branches of a willow tree, and fading into the sun-dipped glow of his kitchen lights. Shisui decides to buy some dango – because Sakura has a weakness for anything sweet – and today has been a hard, but successful day.
She needs it, okay?
Shisui nods to himself at his own confirmation and well, Itachi could use some too. He's a bit shyer when it comes to his selections, he prefers to closet-eat. He did, after all, drop all his cases and run to Sui-La to help out with a case.
A stick of goma dango for him and hanami dango for Sakura.
Through the window panes, of his small house, he catches Sakura and Itachi talking behind the counter. He smiles at the warm picture, walking up the stone stairs of his front yard, he looks up—
—and watches, like an outsider, how Itachi grabs the back of Sakura's neck and kisses her in his own home.
He watches the way Sakura threads her fingers in his hair.
Shisui drops the box of dango.
And a faint crack echoes in the cavity of his chest.
.
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