Sakura had been stunned to find that their house had survived the blast of Pein's jutsu, and still stood, alone among the debris that was left of their neighbourhood, like a beacon to guide them home.

She turned disbelieving eyes to Genma, who grinned wryly and shrugged at the wordless question. "I reinforced the walls after that ROOT attack. I meant to test the seal at some point, but, well. I guess it passed."

Sakura walked around the house, taking in the undamaged walls and roof, the windows being the only casualty, the glass shattered into hundreds of shards and scattered on the ground, unable to contain her relief at still having a home to come back to, unlike most of the villagers.

"Passed with flying colours, I'd say." She corrected with a small smile and made her way inside.

She made a beeline for the kitchen and was surprised to find running water when she turned the tap, even more so when she found in-date food in the cupboards. Not much, and only processed or tinned, but, still. It'd been almost a month since she'd last been at their house for longer than a minute or two, and if she'd heard right, Genma had been couch-surfing between Aoba, Iwashi and Raido's houses, so he wouldn't have gone shopping either in that time.

"Are you cooking?" Genma demanded as he stepped into the house, one eyebrow rising as he spotted her, his tone disbelieving.

"What?" Sakura asked, suddenly defensive. "I'm hungry."

Genma laughed incredulously and ran a hand through his hair, ever-present bandana absent. "The world as we know it almost ended, we both died and were brought back to life by a self-proclaimed god, half the Village is in ruins and you're thinking about food?" he snorted. "Are you sure you aren't part Akimichi?"

Sakura shrugged, ripped open a wrapper with melonpan, and ostentatiously shoved the whole bun in her mouth, not dropping the eye-contact with Genma.

"Okay, okay, point made!" the brunet laughed, stripping off his grimy shirt and throwing it onto the floor by the sofa, heedless of the unimpressed eyebrow Sakura levelled at him. "Can you find something for me as well?"

"What? The world almost ended and you're thinking about food?" Sakura mocked, throwing his words back at him with a laugh, but it must've been sharper than she'd intended because Genma paused for a split-second before he let out a wry chuckle.

"Again, point made." He acknowledged, but still managed to catch the packet of pocky she lobbed at him. "So, what now?" he asked as he settled on the sofa, leaning over the armrest to crack his back, and Sakura was treated to the sudden realisations that there were at least three more scars on Genma's torso than she'd been aware of. She was suddenly distinctly aware of just how long it'd been since they'd had a chance to have a quiet moment like this, and something in her chest clenched.

"Sakura?" Genma asked, and she tuned in enough to realise he'd been waving his hand in front of her face, though he stopped as soon as her eyes focused. "Sorry. You spaced out on me."

"Sorry." Sakura parroted. "Was just... thinking."

"Yeah, you don't say?" he sighed, but the question was more sympathetic than sarcastic. "This whole invasion has been such a shitshow." He mumbled, and Sakura snorted. Apt.

"And a psychological shitstorm." She added, because the entire 'resurrection' deal was a Pandora's Box in her mind, shoved into the furthermost corner of her consciousness until Inoichi could open it. "What do you think is going to happen now?" she asked quietly, not daring to speak any louder even if the main threat had been dealt with.

Genma blew out a gusty sigh and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, head hanging low. "Hell if I know." He confessed, then lifted his head and gave Sakura a measured look. "There are still some Akatsuki loitering about. The issue of the bijuu concerns all Villages, even if there are only two left. We may need to call in allies, ask some favours, outsource missions until we can rebuild, both, the Village, and the morale... I don't envy Tsunade a single bit."

"Why? And is the Village's morale really that low?"

"At the moment? No. Most should still be riding on the adrenaline rush of dying-but-not-really, or defeating Pein. But it will drop. Survivor's guilt will rear its ugly head. The hospital will be busy with suicide watch, the psychologists and therapists – or simply, the Yamanaka Clan – will be needed on-shift almost full-time for the next few weeks, and that'll take up a lot of the funding we have left. And amidst all that, Tsunade will have to start thinking about rebuilding, calling in specialist tradesmen, builders, carpenters, reassuring the civilian population... god, just thinking about this is giving me a headache, and I'm not even Hokage." Genma groaned when he was done, and Sakura just sat there for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape.

"How do you know this?" Sakura demanded at last, more than a little taken aback.

Genma blinked slowly, seemingly baffled, then tried for a grin but it fell short. "I've lived it before." He said simply. "And the Sandaime may have been Hokage during the Third War, but it was Minato who had to deal with its effects." When Sakura's expression didn't change, his grin turned a bit more real. "I was on the Guard Platoon, remember?"

Somehow, first through living with the man for over five years, then through being partners, then through being mad at him, then through dying, Sakura had forgotten the age-difference between them. Genma was just... Genma. Incredible, talented, meticulous, good-humoured, caring Genma.

The fact that he was also a veteran of the Third Shinobi War and the Kyuubi Attack didn't register on most days.

Now it did.

"How long did it take, before? You know – rebuilding?" she asked carefully, both wanting to hear the answer and dreading it.

Genma considered her for a few seconds, thoughtful, then said, "All in all? About half a decade."

And while Sakura sat there, trying to process the exact implications of his words, he stretched and offered her a tired grin. "But don't worry about it. Konoha's gone through this before and came out on top; it'll be okay, it'll just take some time to get there." He stood up and dropped his hand to Sakura's hair and fondly ruffled her bangs, grin growing softer when she unconsciously leaned into the touch. "Try to get some sleep, kid. God knows we need it."

And with those words, he left, taking the stairs slowly and with care, and it was only when his back was turned that Sakura finally saw the bone-deep weariness etched into his posture.

She surprised herself when her jaw cracked on a yawn. Huh. Maybe sleep is a good idea.

Getting up from the sofa took more effort than many a training session she'd ever put herself through, but as she fell onto her bed and felt her head hit the pillow, it barely registered.

She was asleep in seconds.

When Sakura awoke, she felt like she was floating; she was the kind of sleepy well-rested that felt like that pleasant stage of tipsy: warm, comfortable and relaxed. Apart from the fact that her mouth tasted like something had died in it and she still reeked of blood and death, she could've stayed in bed for the rest of eternity.

A warm, long shower later, she was clean of the battle and smelling of citrus and lavender, and she felt more human than she had in days.

As she made her way into the kitchen, she found Genma already there, sprawled on the sofa, as well as, to her great surprise, Iwashi, Aoba, Raido and Eri, not-so-little-anymore Kei perched on her lap.

"Sakura-nee!" the boy cheered when he spotted her, and Sakura waved back, then nodded at the assortment of adults she more or less considered friends.

"Morning." She greeted around a yawn, as she started rummaging around the cupboards for breakfast.

"Try 'mid-afternoon', but sure, kid." Aoba replied, and Sakura did a double-take and checked the clock, startled when 14:41 stared back at her.

"Huh."

Genma snorted and Eri sent her a fond smile, then they went back to their earlier conversation, and Sakura set about making breakfast largely uninterrupted.

A familiar chakra appeared when she was almost done with her toast, and when she raised her head, she found Yuki crouched on the sill of their destroyed window, also cleaned up and dressed, oddly enough, in the standard Konoha navy.

She couldn't stop the smile that bloomed on her face if she tried.

"Yuki!" she greeted, letting the assassin hop down and wrap her in a hug, twirling her round before he set her down.

"Hey, pinky-chan." He grinned, then tugged on the end of her ponytail. "Now c'mon, we've got a shrink to see!"

Sakura was absently aware that the conversation in the living room had stopped, but she ignored it and narrowed her eyes at Yuki instead.

"I didn't book an appointment." She pointed out, jabbing a finger into the assassin's chest. "What did you do?"

The innocent mask Yuki adopted at her words was faultless, and it was precisely the reason why Sakura did not believe a single word that came out of his mouth.

"What did I do? Honestly, pinky-chan, the disrespect. All I did was walk in and ask the kind lady at the reception for an appointment in your name." he replied, and smiled like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Sakura, despite herself, found herself amused. "Oh, yeah? Then what's my patient registration number?" she asked, laughing inwardly when his eyes widened minutely. Gotcha. "Come on, what did you do? What damage should I expect?"

Yuki grinned, all pretence of innocence gone. "I may have henged into you and burst out crying in the reception. Reckon I met your shrink as well. Tall, blue eyed, blond ponytail, cheekbones you could cut yourself on?"

"You just described half the Yamanaka." Sakura snorted, distantly aware that humour should not be the reaction to Yuki's confession, but she found it difficult to bring herself to care. "How many people saw?"

"Eh, not that many. Maybe a dozen." He shrugged, "What matters is – you've got yourself an appointment in fifteen minutes!"

"You're unbelievable." Sakura laughed, "But thanks. Help yourself to some food, I'm gonna change."

Five minutes later, she was ready and walking out of the house, Yuki by her side. She'd spent most of those five minutes staring at her wardrobe, trying hard to combine old Sakura with new Sakura, until she eventually pulled out a grey turtleneck, black hakama pants, a twin pair of her trusty boots which had perished in the first wave of Pein's attack, and her flak jacket.

She had died once already; she reckoned she could leave her chest armour – and her paranoia – at home.

When the door shut behind them, Aoba turned to Genma with an odd expression on his face.

"Tell me that was as weird to you as it seemed to me?" he asked, and Genma snorted but nodded.

"Honestly, at this stage, I think it might be easier to get Inoichi to screw patient confidentiality and tell me what's going on than to get the kid to talk." He sighed, getting a sarcastic there-there pat on the shoulder from Iwashi.

"Or just ask Sakura-chan's boyfriends." Eri piped in, shifting Kei so he was perched more securely on her lap. "Shikamaru-kun and the Mist boy, Chojuro-kun – they should know."

Genma gaped.

"I'm sorry, ask her what now?!"

Inoichi wasn't sure what to make of the S-Ranked assassin following his patient into the room and throwing himself on the hospital bed like it was his personal lounger.

Sakura, following his gaze, sighed, though her lip quirked into a small smile. "I'd prefer it if he stayed, Inoichi-san. If you don't mind."

Inoichi gave the man another narrow-eyed stare, but he'd already shut his eyes and seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, dozing. "...Of course, Sakura-chan." He smiled, and gestured at the padded armchair as he sat down by his desk. "So, what brings you to me today? It's been a good few months since our last chat, hasn't it?"

"I..." Sakura's eyes darted in the direction of the lounging assassin, almost panicked, before her resolve seemed to firm. Inoichi's eyes narrowed slightly at the action, curious, though he made sure his welcoming smile never dropped. "I haven't been completely honest with you, Inoichi-san."

A snort came from the man on the bed.

Inoichi was about to ask him to behave or leave, but Sakura grew more serious, resolute, and squared her shoulders. "Actually, that's a lie. I know I haven't been completely honest with you."

Inoichi carefully opened his notepad and grabbed a pen. "And what, exactly, have you been keeping from me, Sakura-chan?" He asked calmly, trying to keep a straight face. As worrying as this was, it was also progress!

"One of the first things you taught me was how to compartmentalise. If, for whatever reason, I can't or don't want to deal with something at the moment it happens, I've become very good at pushing it to the back of my mind and keeping it under lock and key until the moment I can address it." Sakura began, and Inoichi nodded, encouraging, but already having an inkling as to where the teen was going and dreading it.

"Hypothetically," she began, and the assassin chuckled, "what would happen if all those unpleasant events or thoughts or feelings were just... left there? Never addressed, never processed, just... there?"

"Hypothetically," Inoichi echoed, choosing his words carefully but also trying to drive home just how bad that situation would be, "it would render the individual incredibly volatile. Unexpected, seemingly random words or events could become triggers. Depending on how much was repressed, should a trigger appear, it could lead to inexplicable panic attacks, poor temper, or even a massive loss of control."

He saw Sakura's face drain of colour, and offered her a wry smile. "Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course." Sakura murmured, sounding oddly hollow, though she jerked to awareness when the assassin sat up.

"It's occurred to me that this session would take obnoxiously long if we just chat about all of pinky-chan's issues. So, shrink-san," he turned to Inoichi with a sharp smile, "to my understanding, your Clan specialises in some fancy mind-possession, no? Get to it."

Inoichi barely kept himself from sputtering in indignation, grinding his teeth at the measured insolence of the Mist-nin. "The Shintenshin is a mind-walk technique, and it can absolutely not be used in the medical context without the patient's consent, so I'd appreciate it if you-!"

"I consent." Sakura's voice was quiet, but it cut through Inoichi's sudden rage like a knife through butter.

"Sorry?"

Sakura kept her eyes closed and reached out towards the assassin. The man sobered up and stepped closer, gripping her hand and laying the other on her shoulder.

"I consent." When she opened her eyes, the expression in them was serious. Determined. "Yuki is right, Inoichi-san. Please."

It took him a few seconds, but when the determination on Sakura's face didn't wane, Inoichi sighed and gathered his chakra. A single seal later, he was in.

He wasn't sure quite what he expected.

Every mindscape was different – some were corridors, some meadows, some organised chaos, others pure chaos of disorganised minds, either untrained in the art of resisting interrogation or confident in their ability to never let it get that far.

Sakura's was entirely different.

He found himself at the top of the Hokage Monument, under a clear blue sky, and before him stretched Konoha.

No, not Konoha.

Memories.

A patchwork of snapshots of memories playing like film on flatscreens, cycling through memory after memory at such a speed he could barely recognise the faces. It took him a moment to realise why he initially thought he was looking at the Village – every memory was placed exactly where he recalled the Clan grounds to be in the Village proper. Tsume's face flashed at him from the north-west, directly over the Inuzuka compound. Hyuuga Hiashi followed by an odd bunch of scrolls appeared directly to Tsume's right. Shikaku far-north, Anko and Ibiki where he knew T&I would be, Genma in the Jounin Standby Station, Genma at the training grounds, Kakashi in the hospital, Tsunade in the Hokage's Office –

Inoichi was getting dizzy.

"Huh."

He jumped.

As he whipped around, he was greeted with a – an outline, for a lack of a better term – like chalk on a blackboard, of Sakura. She had her arms stretched in front of her and seemed to be considering them almost absently, before her eerie, pupil-less white eyes rose to meet his.

"Interesting."

Inoichi could think of many other words to describe what was happening, and 'interesting' was none of them.

"Sakura?" he asked carefully, unsure if he was speaking to the manifestation of his patient's psyche or if the girl had actually found a way to possess his possession jutsu.

"Yes, Inoichi-san?" she replied, a lot calmer than she had been in his office, though he wasn't quite sure whether it was genuine calm behind her words or apathy caused by shock. "How are you here?"

She seemed to be considering her answer, and Inoichi was momentarily struck by how bizarre a translucent human was.

"I have a... theory." she said at last. "When I was younger, there was a voice in my head."

Inoichi wondered how many more things he was going to hear for the first time in this session.

"A split personality, or just a psychotic break, I don't know. I called her Inner Sakura. She was the antithesis of what my parents raised me to be – brash, aggressive, impulsive, outspoken. She said everything I wanted to say in my head, so I never had to say it out loud. Every time I forgot something, I had a personal search tool in my head that could navigate the database of my memories and find what I'd forgotten. It worked."

Sakura seemed to realise that defending a mental illness wasn't the 'normal' reaction and snorted.

"Anyway, I never told you about it because I hadn't heard from her since before the Chunin Exams. But, thinking about it now, it might explain, well." She swept a hand to encompass the ridiculously extensive mindscape. "It might explain this."

"And the memories you repressed?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Sakura gestured east of where they were standing, where, were this Konoha proper, he would've seen the looming tower of the Forest of Death. Instead, there was a fortress, overgrown with vines and thorns which were looped over it like chains, tethering it to the ground. Inoichi didn't have to be a psychologist to feel the storm of malevolent chakra and negative emotion that surrounded the building, and he didn't miss the fact that the whole structure seemed to shake every few seconds like there was a tiny, localised earthquake right underneath.

Or like something massive was trying to get out.

"In the nicest possible way, Sakura-chan," he said, absently, already reeling with the experience of this mindscape, "when we use the expression 'under lock and key', we don't literally mean 'lock your memories away in a fortress like some mockery of a bedtime story'."

Sakura – or her id, or her psychosis, he wasn't even sure at this point – merely