Things were going to change.

And change they did.

The first night back in her bed found her being shaken awake by Genma, sweat drenching her pyjamas and gasping for breath.

"Sakura!" Genma's voice cut through the delirium of her mind, and she blinked repeatedly to get rid of the afterimage of Tamaki's hateful sneer and bloodied hands reaching out towards her, till she could finally focus on the brunet's face.

"H-Huh?" she choked out, suddenly realizing that her throat was unbearably sore. From screaming, she realized with a start.

The look in Genma's eyes softened and he perched on the edge of her bed. "D'you wanna talk about it?" he murmured, running a hand through his loose hair. When Sakura shook her head, no, he sighed. "It's about that mission, isn't it?" he asked instead.

She nodded before she could stop herself, then sighed and gave in. "I keep seeing his face. Talking to me. Blaming me. And the more I watch him die, over and over again, the more I struggle to differentiate between the dream and the real memories." She buried her face in her hands. "It's my fault, I know it is. It's just... it hurts so much more when it's him saying it." Back at the hospital, she'd had the luxury of a nurse who would come in the second she started screaming or thrashing in her sleep and administer a sedative, so the rest of the night would be spent in blissful darkness, no dreams to be had. But back at home, she had no such luxuries, and it was slowly starting to get to her.

Genma was silent for a moment, then Sakura felt the mattress dip and a warmth settle by her side, not quite touching, but near enough to draw comfort from. She risked a glance to the side and realized that Genma had propped himself up against her headboard, eyes staring ahead and back leaning against the multitude of pillows on her bed, with his arm resting on top of the headboard in a relaxed lounge.

"It's always difficult when your subconscious turns against you." He spoke at last. "But it's also normal. There are therapists and psychologists who could work through those dreams with you, and help you compartmentalize and differentiate between dream and reality. I could go with you if you want." While he'd been speaking, Sakura had slowly shuffled backwards and settled beside him.

"Would it... do you think it would help?" she asked at last. In the darkness of the room, she felt more than saw Genma's shrug.

"It helps a lot of people. It helped me. It's certainly the healthiest solution to nightmares." Then he sighed, suddenly sounding world-weary. "Every shinobi has their demons. Unfortunately, the missions you go on can have one of two effects on you; they can either feed the demons, make them peskier and more difficult to ignore, or they can desensitize you. Neither option is that great for your psyche or your sleep schedule, but at least there are ways of dealing with option one. The reason I suggested therapy is not that I think you are mentally unstable, but because the earlier you learn how to deal with your demons healthily, the better it'll be for you in the long run."

Somehow, the rosette found herself slumped against Genma, her eyelids heavy and a warmth that had nothing to do with her thick blanket nor the warm body next to her settling over her. She blinked herself awake and pondered over the brunet's words.

"I would like that." She conceded, at last, stifling a yawn. "Thank you."

Then, suddenly curious and far too comfortable to worry whether she was breaking some unspoken pact, she voiced what had been on her mind for almost a week. "What did Kakashi say to you? When you left my hospital room?" she mumbled, face half-buried in Genma's shirt.

She felt more than heard him sigh, and a hand settled lightly on her head. "You should sleep. I'll tell you some other time."

But Sakura wasn't so tired as to miss a diversion as obvious as that, so she forced herself to sit up and blink blearily at the brunet, then poked him in the chest. "You and I both know that you have no intention of telling me if I let it go now." She accused, then when she saw him roll his eyes and smile, she settled back on her makeshift pillow and waited.

"He said you'd go dark," Genma said at last. Before Sakura could try and form the words to ask what on earth that meant, he clarified. "' Going dark' is a colloquialism for shinobi who stop caring. Who become detached from those around them, who take dangerous missions, who stop caring whether they live or die. Funny thing is, when I was younger, the people who were the personification of 'dark' were Anko and Hatake himself, so I have no idea what right he thinks he has to tell me that that's why he's 'concerned' for you. He can't even take care of himself, the idiot." Genma took a deep, steadying breath. "But that doesn't matter. It's not as if I'd let you just stop acting like a teenager all of a sudden."

Sakura hid her smile and tried to sound indignant. "' Let me'?" she parroted, though she knew that she sounded far more fond than cross.

To her amusement, Genma didn't try to back out and chuckled instead, lightly patting her head. "Well, yeah. We live under the same roof, in case you forgot. It's not like I wouldn't notice it, and if you think that I wouldn't drag you to a therapist the moment I did notice, then you don't know me at all, kid."

Sakura smiled, reassured and relieved, and blindly reached up to pat Genma's head in return. "I'm glad. Thank you, Genma." Satisfied, she let her hand drop, closed her eyes and burrowed further into her makeshift pillow.

The last thing she registered was a chuckle and gentle fingers carding through her hair before she drifted off.

She slept peacefully.

When she awoke in the morning, the sun was high in the sky and the bed beside her was cold. She stumbled out of her bedroom, rubbing at her eyes and noting with no small amount of surprise that it was well past ten o'clock and the house was strangely silent. Then, her eyes zeroed in on an envelope on the kitchen counter with her name on it, and a post-it note stuck to the fridge. She went to the note first –

'Sorry, kid, got called out on a mission this morning, should be back within a week though. I would've woken you up, but it looked like you needed the rest. Take care of yourself, and here's the address for the place I told you about last night: -xxxxxxxxxxxxx-'

Smiling wryly, Sakura folded up the note and placed it by the door, so she would remember to grab it on her way out, then moved towards the envelope. She almost squealed when she realized it was a response from Chōjūrō –

Dear Sakura-san,

I'm very happy you like my gift, and that you seem to be doing well for yourself. Thank you also for your faith in me – the reason for the extra delay in my reply was because I took part in the Jounin Exams – and I am pleased to announce that I passed. I am now officially a jounin of Kirigakure and Mei-sama's bodyguard.

A month of D-Ranks as punishment? I wonder what you did. Perhaps I'll hear it when we see each other again.

The scale of improvements in Kirigakure is incredible – since foreign merchants have been allowed in, and Kiri merchants are now free to trade with Konoha, our economy has improved at a rapid rate, and it is still improving. The people seem more hopeful, and happier, and who knows, maybe this will help destroy the stereotypes and prejudice towards Konoha-nin in the future? We have clung to antiquated views for far too long.

I have already received my Konohagakure headband, sorry to disappoint you. I would also like to reassure you that you do not need to send me any 'presents' – your friendship is rewarding enough.

My birthday is on the 1st of November (it'll soon be my 16th birthday). My favourite colour is, perhaps surprisingly, not blue, but the deep, warm pink you sometimes see in sunsets. It's rare to see it in Kiri due to the weather, but whenever I do manage to see it, it makes me very happy, even though it's such a trivial thing. I don't really have a favourite food – I like anything, as long as it is not oily. I do like pocky as a snack though.

How about you? I know your birthday and your penchant for sweet things, but I do have to admit that I had been wondering about the slightly more personal things. I apologize for sounding so forward – you do not have to answer if you do not wish to.

All the best,

-Chōjūrō

Sakura couldn't help the dopey smile once she finished reading, though she forced herself to put the letter down and find some breakfast – she had only three hours left till she needed to be at the T&I office, and she planned to stop by the address Genma had indicated, but she wasn't even dressed yet!

After hurrying through breakfast and her usual routine, she was dressed and out the door fifteen minutes later, hair brushed into its standard ponytail with Chōjūrō's hairpin attached underneath and T&I uniform in place. It took her a few minutes to find the building, and she was rather surprised to note, once she did locate the street, that it was on the back of the T&I building, only it wasn't built of the same imposing grey cement and metal as her work, but painted a light green colour which somehow managed to blend perfectly into its surroundings. Upon entering, she discovered a receptionist sitting in the lobby, much the same as in T&I. The man regarded her with a bored expression, lazily flicking a pen between his fingers.

"G-good morning," Sakura greeted quietly, "I'd like-"

"Therapy, group sessions or counselling." The man cut her off rather rudely, "take your pick."

"U-uh, therapy, I guess." She replied, inwardly grateful Anko wasn't there to watch her stumble over herself lest she'd get a serious telling off.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Sakura blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Ah, no, I wasn't aware I needed-" she started to say, only to be cut off again.

"That's fine. What's your name?" the receptionist interrupted, and by now Sakura was starting to lose her shyness and get progressively more annoyed.

"Sakura Haruno." She bit out, only to stall when the receptionist's facial expression changed for the first time since she'd walked in; now it showed the mildest of interests she'd ever seen, and she'd dealt with Sasuke's microexpressions for over four years.

"Turns out you do have an appointment, Haruno." The receptionist announced, and Sakura had more than a slight inkling that she had Genma to thank for that. "Therapy, first floor, room 221B. Go wait outside the door, you're officially patient 24601."

Slightly stunned by that quick relay of information, Sakura obediently shuffled over to the stairs leading onto the first floor, absently pondering the logic of having room 221B on the first floor, then deciding that ninja, like all others, were allowed their eccentricities. She settled into one of the chairs in front of the room she was directed to and pulled out her latest genjutsu scroll, deciding she might as well pass the time productively. It seemed that just as she was getting into the interesting part of the theory, the door to her examination room opened, and a tall, raven-haired woman in a dress made of what seemed like bandages walked out with a shaky 'thanks' over her shoulder. She did a quick doubletake upon seeing Sakura, but when the rosette showed no sign of recognition, she shuffled past and out.

"Patient 24601?" a calm, deep voice called from inside the room, and Sakura managed to stuff her scroll into her pocket and step through the door before the silence that followed became too awkward. She took care to close the door behind her as she walked in, stealing her nerves, before she turned around.

"Good morning, thank you for ha- Yamanaka-san?" she trailed off, suddenly thrown by the sight of her childhood best friend's father wearing a lab coat thrown over the standard charcoal turtleneck.

"Sakura-chan?" he greeted, equally surprised before he seemed to compose himself. "I thought I told you years ago that Inoichi-san is just fine." He added, with that same fatherly smile Sakura remembered from the many evenings she used to spend at Ino's before they fell out.

This time, instead of filling her with warmth, it merely served to make her slightly nauseous. "That would be highly unprofessional of me, seeing what I'm here for." She quipped, aiming for teasing but falling flat. Now that she was here, the flashbacks from the nightmares came back in full force.

"Ah." And with that one syllable, Inoichi switched flawlessly from the fatherly figure from her childhood to the reliable therapist Genma would've trusted. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I..." all of a sudden, she wasn't sure how to start. Bad dreams seemed so trivial when faced with a man who'd undoubtedly lived through the Third Shinobi War and remained unaffected enough to raise a daughter as radiant and full of life as Ino. "Um, I don't..."

"Sakura-chan," Inoichi smiled at her, reassuring this time. "I assure you, whatever troubles you, it's valid and important, and there's no shame in sharing. Take your time."

So she took a deep breath and told him. She told him of her dreams, of her mission, beyond even what she'd told Genma, she told him of how she and Tamaki had gotten along, how they'd taken turns to talk about dreams and ambitions under the starry sky, how it was her fault he wouldn't get to live long enough to see those ambitions through because she didn't hear the enemy coming until it was too late and her teammate had sacrificed himself for her and now he was dead.

It wasn't until she felt a gentle hand settle on her shoulder that she realized she was hyperventilating and tears were streaming out of her eyes and every other word was catching on a sob.

"Sakura-chan, Sakura-chan, ssh, it's alright." Inoichi shushed her quietly, his thumb rubbing circles into the tight muscle of her shoulder.

After she calmed down, he proceeded to explain that she was experiencing quite a tough case of Survivor's Guilt and that the first step to dealing with it was acknowledging she had a problem, which she had already done, and he congratulated her for it. Inoichi continued by saying that she needed to talk openly about her time in the tunnels and that he would recommend scheduling regular appointments until it eased. Then he suggested a support network, and followed with the words – "I hear you mentioned Anko; why don't you ask her how she's coping?" at which Sakura couldn't help but snort, even though it sounded disgusting with her nose clogged up after crying.

"No offence, Yamanaka-san, but senpai is hardly the type of person to talk about her feelings. I reckon she'd try to sic one of her snakes on me again." She told him shakily, at which he smiled, cerulean eyes twinkling with mirth.

"If she does, tell me, and I'll sic Ibiki on her." The idea of the fierce Intelligence Division Commander lecturing Anko about sharing her feelings made Sakura crack up, and it took her a few seconds to get her chuckles under control.

"Will do, Yamanaka-san. Thanks."

"Anytime, Sakura-chan. Now, do you have anyone at home to turn to in case the nightmares get particularly nasty between appointments?" Inoichi asked kindly, and Sakura couldn't help the wry smile.

"Yeah." She replied, nodding. "Genma. He's incredible and I honestly don't know how he deals with having a teenage girl in the house, but he's the best kaa-san ever. He's the one who suggested this to me."

Inoichi looked surprised for a few seconds, then his smile softened. "I'm not surprised. You probably know by now that he's very reliable, so don't be afraid to talk to him."

Sakura smiled and managed to force out an 'I'll try to', then Inoichi moved on to what she could do in between sessions – he set her breathing exercises, visualization exercises, meditation and a multitude of grounding techniques to deal with the dreams, then recommended weekly meetings for the first month, which would then reduce to monthly if she was showing progress.

Finally, just as Sakura was about to leave, a bunch of leaflets and pamphlets and hand-written notes clutched in her hands, Inoichi stopped her. "Sakura-chan," when she turned around at the door, he smiled, although it looked slightly strained. "I'd like you to know I'm speaking as my daughter's father now, and not your therapist." Anxiety rolled in her stomach, certain she was going to get told off for her behaviour towards Ino. Sakura screwed her eyes shut, then – "Come to dinner at our house."

"H-huh?" the rosette gawked, making Inoichi chuckle.

"Dinner, Sakura-chan." He repeated. "Ino will be delighted to see you again, and I'm sure you'll be able to rekindle your friendship. You two used to be so close."

Sakura gulped, then considered. "Will anyone else be there?" she asked meekly.

"My wife, Shikaku and Chouza – their wives and sons. Shikaku told me you got quite close to his son on that mission to Kiri. It's just a little family gathering." Inoichi told her in what was meant to be a reassuring manner but merely made her pale.

"Won't that make me an outsider?" she asked cautiously, not meaning to come off as rude.

Inoichi waved her off. "Nonsense, not if I invited you. Tomorrow, at six, assuming you're not called away on a mission. I'm sure you remember the way to our house?"

When she nodded, the blond beamed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sakura-chan."

Taking that as the dismissal it was, Sakura walked out and shut the door behind her.

That same night, Sakura jolted awake in bed, her heart beating a wild staccato rhythm and sweating more than she sometimes did when she trained. Tamaki's face was a vivid picture in her mind, its accusatory glare by now so familiar but no less effective in making her loathe herself. The dream was different this time though, even worse than usual, and even though she'd already forced her eyes open, she kept whipping her head from side to side, seeing shapes that looked suspiciously like the Iwa-nin in her peripheral vision. It didn't matter that every time she focused on the shapes they turned out to be something innocuous like a lamp or a shirt draped over the back of her chair – in her rising panic, Sakura had already managed to work herself into a state of hyperventilation, and her vision was slowly growing blurry with tears and dark spots were creeping in from the corner of her eyes.

So she screwed her eyes shut, Inoichi's words echoing in her mind, and gave his recommended technique a try. Forcing herself to take a deep breath only to have it catch in her throat and turn into a whimper, she focused on her surroundings, prying her eyes open.

What can I see? There's my chair, my desk, the lamp, my scrolls, my teddy bear, I know this, this is my room, I can do this. What can I smell? I can smell... I can smell the katsudon I made for dinner, I can smell the lavender detergent Genma insists on using on the bedsheets, and I can smell old paper from the scrolls and books. I can hear... I can hear the bar two blocks down playing some godawful bass music, I can hear the grandfather clock in the neighbour's room, I can hear the fuinjutsu sheets rustling in the slight draft. I can taste my toothpaste. And I can touch my blanket, much too thick for this time of year, but I'm too lazy to change it, besides, it'll get chilly again soon.

By the time she focused on her blanket, her breathing