A slow tapping on her shoulder alarmed her.

"Sakura-chan"

Whirling around, she met with a pair of spectacles glinting from the blaring light.

"Yakushi-sempai."

It is a little bit alienating to find someone as young as him, with long silvery tresses and similar professional coat, trying to be cordial with you.

"No need to call me that, Sakura-chan." He flipped the brown-old pages; its aging scent indicated how long the patient had been in the facility. The consultant-on-duty clucked his tongue in disapproval as something transcribed in the paper made him anxious." You seem to take an interest to Sasuke-kun."

"Uchiha-san?" She crossed her fingers mentally. "Oh no, no. Kabuto-sempai. He's a very interesting case and he-"

"He missed his medications for five times this week." That smile on his face deeply perturbed her.

"His condition is stable right now." She responded with an equal measure of amiability. "You don't need medicine when there is nothing to cure."

It was disturbing when he was not even ruffled. "You have to consult it to the chief, then."

Deep inside her, there was this sinking feeling that grins like that were really signals of impending doom for her.

His hands held out the charts and stretched her hands to reach. The feel of cold metal on her skin numbed her hold and they clattered clumsily to the floor.

"I told you to be careful."

The silence that settled between them made her pulse jump.

"So-sorry." She stuttered, trying to ignore that leering gaze over her.

"Haruno-san." He inclined his head in mock concern, the edge of his rough coat sliding her cheek. "He will never recognize you."

---

It was daunting to know that such a dreary hospital had this type of office.

There were plush, carpeted floors underneath her feet. Some majestic canvases were on the delicately furnished walls. The hanging chandelier in the waiting room spoke volumes of glinting prices for the luxury coach she was currently sitting on.

She did not know what to do. There was nothing on those huge texts of medical gibberish that she should investigate about her client's family history except their allergies or illnesses. What drove her here to this point must be her sheer stupidity when droning herself to those damned books mentioned.

The moment the secretary ushered her towards the room with a nod, her resolve shook for a second. She suddenly felt the pressure in her stomach that was nonexistent until she heard the door shut with finality.

There was a feeling of sophistication and twisted elegance as she entered the room with a bated breath. The windows encompassed the whole wall. It revealed gradually melding skies blending into hues of bloody hues and violet streaks, sending something dreaded stirring deep at her stomach.

Two amber-slitted, serpentine-like orbs devoured her slowly crumbling facade.

Before the anxiety finally crashed down on her, she bowed out of pleasantries.

He raised a hand to indicate to the seat in front of her. "Sakura-chan." A smile flitted across that powdery chalk-colored face as he smirked. There was no need for her head to shout that the man across the room was someone to be watch out for.

"Orochimaru-sensei." It felt odd to find those ocher, viper-like stare at her. "I am rather surprised to be called here"

"Oh. You must have expected it sooner or later." He said, long ribbon like fingers lacing together as he settled them on the polished wooden mahogany desk. "Isn't it right, Sakura-chan?"

"For what business am I here, sensei?"

He flipped his long wavy, silky dark tresses over his shoulder. It was truly strange to see this death-like appearance wore the bearing of a certified physician. "Oh, someone will be pleased to meet you."

She felt her marrows turn into ice as she turned to occupied seat at the very end of the mahogany desk. There he was, a man of late twenties with a neatly-tied hair behind his inclined nape. Those intimidating pair of eyes reminded her of him.

"Good evening, Haruno-sensei."

Absentmindedly, she hitched a breath.

"Itachi-san."

The air obstructed her throat.

"I believe we have already met."

But she is perfectly calm, yes, she is.

"I have been informed that you are very interested with my little brother's case."

"Yes, I am." She was still lucky. Her voice did not waver, and there was no cold sweat breaking out of her skin. "He's been improving tremendously, I can assure you."

An iota of annoyance made known to his face, as the creases in his brow deepened.

"Really? You were always seen in the records section." She nearly forgot that the hospital director was still watching her with wicked amusement. "You are not only interested with his condition, right, Sakura-chan?"

"He is my patient." She would have gladly smacked him, but she is wiser now. "I have the right to access his-"

"I particularly instructed that those information are classified, Haruno-sensei." The older Uchiha, who was intensely observing the different shifting of facades, could surely see that she already knew what is going on.

"You do not have the authority."

"But I am his doc—"

"I know who you are, sensei."

Her skin prickled rather painfully.

"Indeed. We never expected such a pupil from her." She glanced for a second to Orochimaru's pale finger that traced the pathway of his lips, as if he is about to savor a sweet victory.

"Your brother, he does-"

She can hardly suppress the sudden urge to scream out her frustration at the unfairness of it all.

"Sasuke does not deserve this. Especially from you, Uchiha-san."

Those penetrating discernment in his gaze gave her an unpleasant knot on her thrumming chest.

"He has to stay."

In one fleeting second, the director of the establishment find himself deflated when the girl responded as she straightened her spine and met the intimidating gaze squarely. The smile on her face was completely reminiscent to a vice-loving female with blonde pigtails. "You cannot keep him here forever."

By the moment the huge grandiose curved doors closed behind her, the incredible nervousness that wanted to swallow her returned into full force. The meeting on the last few hours triggered an unquenchable anticipation to take action.

It's over.

---

There was nothing he could see but the crimson fluid flicking to his face.

There was nothing he could dream of except falling familiar corpses to the floor with a dull thud.

He was never been accustomed to her-irritating, grating, warm-presence. It has already been a week since she came and force-fed him with every kind of confectionary that existed on earth. He had a nasty intuition that she was doing this in purpose. She always tried to subdue any type of defenses that he built up in face of the different strangers in that crossed his way.

It seemed that she discerned everything about him when he could not even do so himself.

Yet there was something about the approach she utilized, as if she had already prepared (for a long time) what to say or to do whenever he brought about the subject of the only memory that resided so torturously inside his mind. She was probably tired of comforting him of this when she proposed to create one more memory for him.

It was another of those chilly evenings where he was more comfortable to stay behind the wide berth of his room. The mistake he did was to comply in answering the door with an acknowledging 'Hn.'.

The knob turned and he wanted to slam his brow to his palms.

"Quick!"

His cheek twitched at the sight. "Where are we going?"

"It will be safe." She assured him, and pushed it to nudge his hanging foot from the bed.

He knows such equipments were designed for safety. Is she stupid?

"I can walk." He stated it clearly and emphasized every syllable.

"But they won't let you out in this hole without this."

"The nurses can do this."

She responds amiably. "If you want them to drool all over your head, just tell me."

He threw the object with one of his teeth-chattering glares that she was surprised that the frame was not melting in any second.

"Sit here." Again, for the umpteenth time, she nudged the wheel on his foot.

He turned to look at her as if she had a deranged mind.

"I promise." She grinned. "Not too fast."

Grunt.

She smiled and knew at once that she won.

He heaved himself off the bed but a pair of white-sleeved coated arms wrapped them to his barely bare skin.

The soft, indistinct words were muttered in a strawberry scented breath.

"Let me help."

Pliant, callused hands found to attach at the low of his back and dug at his shoulder, hauling him.

It astounded him how much strength she held. His stubborn companion instructed him to hold her arms for more support as he memorizes the way her fragrance seems to envelop her. There was something spicy laced underneath the stench of sweat she carries. He wonders when he had ever smelled something that exotic. His mind fuzzily prodded him that he was enveloped on that same scent long ago, under bloody arms and tear-stained faces.

For a single, mesmerizing moment, he did not mind that he was here beneath her grasp.

As she lowered him on his wheel chair, he notices that blue embroidered characters in her coat.

A pang of guilt as something told him that he should know that name. That name.

"Wait." She moved towards the small shelf placed across the furbished room. She promptly grabbed a navy colored collar shirt, a thick black overcoat and a pair of dark gloves and motioned him to wear it.

"It's cold outside." She answered his silent question as he lifted them off to his inspection. "The heater is full blast since afternoon, so you'll probably don't know."

"I don't need it."

"You are prone to colds." She bestowed him a vicious glare rivaling his own." And I know you hate shots."

Damn woman. He complied while his psyche happily supplied him different satisfying odd names for that annoying slip of a girl.

The noise of the pushed chair was disturbing his ears. It squelched underneath his weight, making him slightly uncomfortable. She told him not to worry about nonsensical things, about the inquiring stares from her colleagues or about this certain trouble they might meet if they come face to face with the consultant.

Her mouth, annoyingly, did not ran out of words as he hoped, continued to talk and add conjunctions till the end.

If she was trying to distract him from this ridiculous situation, she is not doing a great job.

And it was not cold. He was boiling hot.

She suddenly apologized that they could not take the elevator.

When he finally realized that they were going, he unconsciously clenched the handles.

He caught a glimpse of a resolute expression on her face.

She takes a deep breath and both of them descended as quietly as possible on the ramps.