Motherhood is everything and nothing like she imagined. Whatever feelings Shachi has for her husband utterly pale in comparison to the bewildering joy she experiences when her first child is placed in her arms.

Even Indra is unable to hide his amazement as he tentatively reaches out to place a hand on the infant's downy hair. There is nothing of the godlike warrior about him when the infant is passed to him. Exhausted from a long labour, Shachi can only watch him with their daughter and marvel. It occurs to her that perhaps he's never seen anything like this before.

For an intelligent man, he really did miss the basics, didn't he?

Unlike Sakura's usual commentary, there is a something bordering on amusement in her usual criticism as she watches the ancient demigod and his child. She has seen that soft expression before, after all, and quite recently. Sasuke may not have held their child yet, but the way he gazes at where it grows in her stomach is unquestionably reminiscent.

It's a relief to know that Indra is capable of such emotion, however far down it's buried.

The thought's barely registered when Indra looks up, eyes gleaming in the dim room.

"While I live, no harm will ever come to our children," he vows. But whereas that statement from anyone else would be the dutiful plea of a husband and new father, there is a sinister undertone in Indra's pledge. Both Shachi and Sakura can read the subtle, menacing threat and know that he would tear down the world to protect them.

Sakura shudders at this because she's seen firsthand what terrible things devotion like Indra's can cause.

Her dreams begin to take on that repetitive quality again, and the sense that she is watching time pass faster than normal makes her wake most mornings with a headache. She feels as though an entire life is being crammed into her head during her sleeping hours, and she has no choice but to hold on for the ride.

And just like that, the years pass and Shachi gives birth to five more healthy children. Strong sons and daughters that are her joy and Indra's pride, a sign to his followers that his teachings will continue across the generations. None of their children take after their father in looks, favouring her grey eyes and darker colouring – and none of them show signs of inheriting his Sharingan.

None of them can summon flames the way she can, either, which she knows her husband is disappointed about.

Shachi is initially anxious that their legitimacy might be questioned. However, from an early age, their ability to wield chakra without instruction, and their utter ease in learning their father's craft suggests different. With every passing season, though they don't spend much time with him, their temperaments all become similar to their father as well.

Her fears retreat to the back of her mind.

After so many years together, their relationship has settled into something that might be described as comfortable. The days of him fleeing their marriage bed after bringing them both to release are rare; either he allows himself to succumb to sleep by her side, or he will listen to her narrate the day's events. In the early years, all her tales relate to keeping their outfit running smoothly. Once the children are born, she uses this time to report every detail of their upbringing that he misses when he is busy guiding his disciples. His expression never changes – whether to smile or frown at the stories – but there is a relaxed air about him that she never notices at any other time.

At the times when she is pregnant, he refuses to have relations with her, either for fear of harming the child in her womb or because he is still trying to maintain the fiction that his interest in her is only for procreation. She suspects it's the latter because he only stops initiating intercourse when she informs him of her pregnancy or when her condition is so obvious that neither of them can deny it.

She never comments on this, and both hates and loves these long periods of time. While her body cries out to be touched (often so ardently that Sakura will wake breathless and trembling), Indra instead unknowingly offers a new kind of intimacy, the kind Shachi never realised that she craved: companionship.

He continues to join her in the evenings, asking questions about her health and the progression of her condition, or resting with his ear to her belly. Although he does not offer her any other gestures that might be construed as affection, he does begin to confide in her. Slowly, at first: throwaway comments about upcoming plans, musings over which of his followers can be trusted to split off from the main outfit to spread his sect's teachings further. He talks of their children, his pride in their growth and achievements, their natural ability to learn ninjutsu even from a young age. He expresses minor disappointment that none of them seem to have inherited the nascent healing talents she's shown.

From the first moment that Indra guides her through the process of willing torn flesh and bone back together, she feels as if she's found a calling. There will be no more need to scrounge through forests for herbs to soothe instead of fix – now she can be useful.

"You have a natural talent," Indra tells her one night as she heals a jagged gash in his back. "I knew it the moment I met you."

It's the first compliment she's ever received from him, and she has no idea how to react to it beyond beaming at him with utter joy. For some reason, he appears more surprised by her reaction than she was by his admission and, in one of his rare moments of exposed emotion, hastily leaves their quarters.

That's because he's probably never been faced with a thousand-watt smile like that, Sakura figures. I mean, I doubt he's ever had anyone smile at him in any way, but definitely never like that.

And why would he? Indra remains a terrifying specimen of a man. His rage is still a horrible thing, and despite Shachi's few companions attempting to shield her from it, she's seen the results: bodies with bloody, charred holes through their chests, eyes burned out. It's such a contrast to who he is when he's alone with her that she spends days after these incidents upset.

On these days, he is remorseless in his methods, but by night, he will open up more about his past, as if offering her something in recompense. It's the closest to an apology she will ever receive.

The stories he tells her are wonderful and awful, the stuff of legends and nightmares. He speaks of his formidable grandmother (once worshipped as the Rabbit Goddess among the people of his land) and his father (he usually becomes terse and stiff when mentioning him). He confides that he lost his mother when she gave birth to his younger brother (his expression darkens here and he doesn't speak again on the subject for several nights), and describes what it was like to grow up among his father's disciples.

He also tells her the story of being cheated out of his birthright by Asura, and of his father's betrayal and repudiation when all he ever did was try to make him proud.

Sometimes, he says things, a particular phrase or word, that sounds out of place in his story. It's as if he's repeating something told to him by someone else, someone else's words speaking through him. His eyes will glaze and he'll look off into the distance, reminding Shachi of the times she would watch him in her father's land, speaking to himself in the shadows. She wonders if there isn't someone else missing from his stories.

She knows better than to bring it up though, preferring to keep their moments together peaceful; it's a stark contrast to the life they lead during the day, and she suspects he appreciates it as much as she does.

As much as his confidences to her are not born of love, there is something there. Some nameless connection exists between him and her, and she can be satisfied with that.

夢

In the next week, Sakura becomes more determined than ever not to let her dreams (or the ominous words of the old crone) take over her waking life. She and Sasuke are not just on an extended honeymoon ("Mission," he always corrects sulkily when she uses that word.), but are supposed to be helping people. So, she continues to steer them toward towns without adequate medical resources, or where the infrastructure needs rebuilding. She helps build houses (it doesn't count as heavy lifting when you can break mountains, after all) and volunteers Sasuke's help when they end up in areas threatened by bandits or gang-warfare (she doesn't argue anymore when he deals with these situations without her).

And she shrugs off his casual (and later, not so casual) suggestions they alter their plans and return to Konoha early.

"You just want to check your family's tablet," she replies airily.

"There might be something I missed."

"You have it memorized," she reminds him dismissively, and he can't argue with that.

Sakura may have forced her husband to abandon chasing spurious leads about her dreams, if only for her peace of mind, but he manages to express his worry for her in other ways. His anxiety over her nightly forays into the past begins to bleed into his concern over her pregnancy.

Where once he actively avoided populated areas lest he be forced to socialise, now he seeks them out. Villages and towns have markets, after all, and that means access to better quality food. He doesn't want her eating the same rations they've relied on since they started their travels, and he's become more meticulous about watching her diet than she is. She lets him get away with it only because he's clearly acting out over his inability to help with the dreams, but sometimes it gets to the point where she'll stuff her face with acceptable amounts of "contraband" when he's not around. It's completely worth the long-suffering expression he makes when he notices the remnants of whatever greasy or salty snack she didn't manage to completely eradicate.

One day, as she is contemplating her next culinary indiscretion, her stomach suddenly spasms.

She must make a face or tense or something because Sasuke is instantly hovering over her when she was sure he was at a stall thirty feet away replenishing their dry food stocks. "Sakura?"

"It's nothing," she assures him. "I'm just hungry. We should stop somewhere after we finish our errands."

"Here." He offers her a bright red tomato from a sack she didn't notice him sneakily buy earlier. She accepts it with a resigned sort of amusement, trying not to feel like a toddler being appeased before she can begin a tantrum.

"You've already got the dad-instinct figured out, haven't you?" she teases, and the way his eyes gleam suggests he takes that as a compliment.

She bites into the fruit, distractedly wiping at the juice running down her chin, examining a set of shuriken that are on display (they're not as well made as anything she could get from Tenten, but this far from home, beggars can't be choosers!) and wondering if Indra had any similar reactions to his pregnant wife. Would he see their future children as the same new beginning that Sasuke does? Or was it just a means to an end for him? It bothers her that he might think that. Even though the child Shachi carries isn't Sakura's, she still feels protective of it. It's odd, and probably transference of her feelings about her own pregnancy, but –

She sucks in her breath, feeling like something has just jabbed her. That was definitely not hunger pains.

"What is it?" Sasuke demands, back again, tense and prickly like a giant cat as he examines her for signs of injury, and then scans the crowd around them, as if expecting someone else to have done something.

"No, Sasuke, it's not – nothing hurts. I just feel like there's a muscle twitching or something..." she assures him.

The woman behind the weapon stall chuckles. "Your first, I take it?"

"What do you know of it?" Sasuke asks, tone abrupt and gaze sharp.

Thankfully, she doesn't appear fazed by it. "Only the look of a woman who's just been kicked from the inside for the first time," she responds, amused.

Sakura blinks. "No, that's not...it's so early."

She's at most eighteen weeks along, she shouldn't already be able to feel anything so obvious.

"Sometimes you notice earlier," the woman shrugs and goes back to her wares.

"Notice?" Sasuke echoes, looking uncharacteristically confused.

The strange fluttering sensation happens again and Sakura smiles, shaking her head. Wordlessly, she reaches out to take his hand; he is still tense, but when she presses it against the spot over her abdomen, he relaxes.

The gentle poke happens again and now that she expects it, she doesn't know how she could've thought it was something else.

She isn't sure if Sasuke can feel it through the cloth, it's barely there – but of course he can. He's the most perceptive person she knows. He's completely frozen before her, staring down at his hand on her belly like it's not actually attached to him.

"Someone's decided to say 'hello' to Papa," she teases affectionately, revelling in the minute movement of his fingers splayed apart across the jumping, shifting stretch of skin and the utter awe in his eyes.

And then Sasuke – Mister I-don't-do-public-displays-of-affection – is on his knees, pressing his face into her belly.

The world falls away, and for an instant in time, the only people in the world that exist are her, her husband, and her child.

眠り

Over time, their roaming band becomes an army, a nation of people too large to continue wandering. They cross deserts and seas before Indra decides to settle them permanently on an island far removed from the mainland. The land is cold, given to mist and snow, but where others see desolation, Shachi is reminded of the shores where she often found refuge as a child.

Of the beach where she first set eyes upon Indra.

There is some comfort in this, and so she embraces her new home enthusiastically.

The main settlement is situated on the largest island within the archipelago, and he and his followers waste no time bringing the surrounding islets under his control. It seems as if they are perpetually at war, and soon her duties as wife to the leader are not as focussed on managing supplies as they are on caring for the wounded.

As their battles with their enemies on the borders become more frequent, Indra becomes adamant that she learn to protect herself and their children if he is not around. Despite her reluctance, he coaches her in strengthening her ability to wield flames. He brings her to the lake nearest their settlement to teach her how to breathe fire easier and then how to mould those flames into whirlwinds and infernos. Soon, she can bend the blazes she creates into shapes – lions, elephants, and dragons that are almost solid in the destructive force they can cause.

It terrifies her, but when she sees the approval in his gaze, she can't help the stirrings of pride.

You should feel proud! It's impressive! Sakura thinks, surveying the damage; the sheer heat and force of Shachi's jutsu has evaporated a significant portion of the lake. Sasuke probably couldn't even do that until he was much more practiced.

Still, Shachi has no wish to go into battle with Indra, and he shows no sign of wanting her to. She much prefers her duties behind the lines – healing the wounded in the medical tents. This is the gift she is most comfortable with, an ability more suited to her nature. She doesn't even know when she'll need to use the other gift.

Until the day she discovers her seventh pregnancy.

Indra is away, gone to the last of the islands that have been opposing his forces. In an increasingly more common practice, he leaves her to govern their people in his absence. It's a move that leaves no argument about the chain of command, for he is not a man who easily trusts. Where many of his followers would have once balked at the idea of a woman holding any form of power, since word of her abilities spread throughout the camp, there are no questions.

She is no longer the guardian who heals the sick and wounded, but a potential force of destruction. They call her Indrani – an idol of healing and wrath. If Indra is a god, his consort is clearly a goddess.

Such talk makes her uncomfortable, but it is no less than her husband promised would come to pass the day they married. It's a legacy her children will inherit, and all of them at that; Indra is determined that every one of his children will be equally capable of succeeding him one day. Although he stuns his followers when he declares he will have no single successor. He never says why, but Shachi knows it's to do with his own father's handling of succession.

The morning her perfect world changes, she leaves Dewadasi's hut after confirming that her lack of monthly bleeding means she is indeed expecting another child. She is more than pleased about the news – the youngest has just been weened, leaving Shachi with an empty, longing feeling. As for the oldest, she is just beginning to train among the other disciples and has no time for her mother. It seems to be a trend; as they get older, they become more determined to show their father how strong they are.

Another baby is more than welcome.

Shachi has no doubt that when her husband returns, it will be to tell everyone of yet another victory, and she contemplates telling him the good news in reward. It will no doubt please him, even if it means he holds himself back from relations with her.

She heads to the forest just beyond the compound, intending to seek out the usual herbs and roots that she knows from experience help ensure a healthy pregnancy. As has become usual, she is flanked by several of her husband's disciples – she may be able to protect herself, but Indra is not one to take chances, even when he is away.

It turns out to be for nothing, however.

She is elbow deep in roots and loamy soil when she and her entourage are attacked. The earth appears to rise up around them, imprisoning her attendants, suffocating them before they can even cry out. Another wall begins to close in on her.

The Shachi of old would simply let it happen, but for the first time in her life, she has something to fight for – her husband, her children, the child beneath her heart. She doesn't know who's attacking her, but they will not be allowed to succeed!

She calls up her strongest flames, kneading the chakra within her body and expelling it from her mouth in a massive fireball. It explodes around her, disintegrating the walls of earth that try to trap her, and radiating outward. There are screams of agony as the tidal wave of flame floods the forest, catching her attackers in its wake, decimating the surrounding trees as well.

When the flames subside, she is panting, surrounded by a radius of ash and charred remains. It seems as if her first battle has been a success.

However, when she tries to move, to hurry back to the settlement and raise the alarm, she finds herself frozen in place. She can't move anything beyond her eyes, which search for the origin of her imprisonment.

It's as she notices a shadow which appears to be keeping her prisoner that she feels a blunt blow to the back of the head and the world goes black.

夢

"Jūgo had a friend," Sasuke says one day, apropos of nothing. "Kimimaro."

The name is distantly familiar and it takes a few seconds for Sakura to place it.

"The one Li faced," she concludes slowly. "When they were..."

"When they all tried to stop me from leaving," he agrees shortly. It's a day neither of them like to talk about. "Kimimaro belonged to the Kaguya clan."

"Kaguya?" she repeats, eyes wide. "As in..."

"Yes. I don't know why I didn't make the connection until now. Perhaps because I never met Kimimaro personally."

He sounds angry at himself, and she reaches out a comforting hand. "You had other things on your mind."

He shrugs. "Still. It's a potential link to Indra. Tenuous, but it's something we can look into."

The way he says it, a statement and a question, suggests he won't do anything without her say-so. Given the recent turn her dreams have taken, Sakura doesn't protest.

She doesn't know much about the Kaguya clan, other than the fact that they aren't on any of the clan registers she's ever seen – which only happens when a bloodline goes extinct. Sasuke fills her in on what he learned from Jūgo who, even today, remains devoted to the memory of his deceased friend.

They were a clan noted for their savagery and bloodlust, a people who brutalised their enemies and each other with their own skeletons (she shudders at this part, remembering Kaguya and how she could turn a body to ash with her own bones). They eventually killed themselves in a frenzy to showcase their brutality.

It turns out they are relatively close to the location Sasuke's former associate has given them, and it's a short trip from Kiri's main island to the satellite islet where the Kaguya clan once resided. They find the place is abandoned now, overgrown and waterlogged, half-consumed by a swamp that the local residents say is cursed.

As she and Sasuke explore, they find structures that were once houses, caved in and practically reclaimed by the forest. The foundations of the houses appear to have been hewn from a white stone meant to resemble bone, and decorated with reddish-black designs that Sakura recognizes as dried blood.

She didn't believe her husband at first, that an entire clan could've destroyed itself. Even if they battled to the last clansmen, what of the children or inactive women? Surely, they should've survived. As they clamber over grass-covered mounds and through ditches, she learns that he spoke the truth. There are still skeletal remain here, improperly buried in most cases, and picked clean by animals. Some have their bones twisted unnaturally, dead in the throes of using their clan jutsu; many of the remains show bones impaling other bodies, adult and child alike.

"Their extinction is not a tragedy," Sasuke remarks coolly when he sees this, and she can't help but agree with him.

After an hour of scoping the place out, it seems as if there's nothing to find. Although there is evidence of belongings – kitchen utensils, agricultural equipment, weapons for hunting – it appears the Kaguya clan didn't keep written records. There is no evidence of a single book in the ruins, or newspapers, or even signposts. Sakura feels as if it's a dead end, and suggests they leave.

"There's nothing here," she says, "and this place is creepy."

It's as if the deaths of the inhabitants linger here. She has enough unwanted attention from the supernatural world at the moment; she doesn't intend to invite more.

"I want to check one last place," Sasuke replies, nodding to the last crumbling building at the edge of the settlement. It's built beside –or leading into – a rock formation, and the decaying exterior resembles the arches of a shrine.

Although it feels vaguely ominous to think of these vicious people having any kind of spiritual beliefs, she agrees.

Inside, it's barely large enough to accommodate herself and Sasuke; in fact, he has to stoop. It smells like rotting rood and mildewed cloth. The altar within has been crushed by foraging animals and time. Sakura finds a stave of wood that is dry enough and holds it out to Sasuke; a small fireball later, and they have a torch.

Although there aren't any sacred objects or idols here, the walls are decorated – and startlingly well-preserved, considering the state of the rest of the village. The art is primitive, crude, and almost infantile from what she sees. Stylised figures dance along the edges of the walls, almost like a stop-motion story. None of the figures have features other than eyes – always grey or green – with two closely-placed scarlet dots above, like the eyebrows of ancient nobility.

The same way Indra's eyebrows look...

Most of them wield bone-white swords or seem to spring spikes from their backs.

"Shikotsumyaku," Sasuke remarks, studying the depiction of one such figure.

"Hm," Sakura agrees distantly, her eyes drawn to an etching across the chamber. It seems out of place, given the rest of the subject matter – a sidewise crescent moon and a rabbit. "That's a bit tame for this particular clan, don't you think?"

Sasuke follows her gaze and frowns. He steps forward, traces the shapes. "No one draws a moon this way. It's almost as if it's meant to be trapping the rabbit."

Sakura blinks, realisation hitting her. "Wasn't Kaguya called the "rabbit goddess" once? Didn't I hear that somewhere?"

"Not from me," Sasuke answers, distracted. He traces his finger downward, following a line that connects the rabbit to a scratched-out figure that appears to have been made intentionally grotesque. Instead of eyes, there is one red circle in its forehead, a familiar looking disc.

"That looks like the – when the Infinite Tsukuyomi was cast," Sakura exclaims. "That's what happened to the moon."

"No. I think it's the mandala of Hagoromo."

Sakura's eyes widen, and upon looking at it again, she realises he's right. "The Sage of Six Paths? Right beneath Kaguya...so maybe that means this –" She's the one to trace her way downward now, to the third-closest image, " – has to be Indra."

His representation doesn't have eyes or a face either, although there are two round, scarlet markings that all the other figures in here have.

Her palm rests lightly against the image, something in her stomach tugging uncomfortably.

"Sakura."

She glances up and notices her husband nod to the right; she follows his gaze and realises that the figure of Indra does not stand alone the way his father's and grandmother's do. Beside it, there is a figure – clearly female, given its proportion – and this one, unlike all the rest, only has eyes.

Sakura inhales deeply, drawn to that image because, right here, they've finally found it – some proof that the woman whose life she is dreaming truly did live. They've spoken of it, of course, as if it's a fact, but this – knowing – is cathartic.

"Shachi," she breathes as she studies the image. She shivers, feeling like deep within her, something shifts.

"They've shown lines of descent from her and Indra. Look," Sasuke says, pointing out six other figures that spread below them in an arc. Two males and four females – the same amount of sons and daughters that Sakura knows from her dreams – all with Indra's markings and Shachi's grey eyes.

"It's no wonder no one else knows about this," Sasuke goes on, gazing at the other figures in the chamber. "Unless you know about the Ōtsutsuki – how they looked – this would just seem like a creation myth."

"I guess that's why Orochimaru didn't know anything about all this," she suggests, and off his surprised expression, she snorts. "Did you really expect me to believe you went to Jūgo about this first? Orochimaru knows almost everything there is to know. Of course, you contacted him first. There's no need to hide that."

"You don't like him."

"No, I don't. But he was your teacher – and more importantly, he saved your life. He gets a pass."

He raises an eyebrow. "But?"

"But if he ever comes near me with bad intent, I will crush him into dust," she finishes seriously.

Sasuke makes a noise that's halfway between a snort and a cough then turns his attention back to the mural before them. He frowns. "There are only six."

"Huh?"

"Six lines of descent. Six children. Didn't you say she was pregnant?" he asks.

Sakura blinks in surprise and looks at the depictions herself, remembering. "Yes...she just discovered her pregnancy before she was kidnapped."

"There's no indication of that here."

Sakura swallows. "Why wouldn't they include that?"

"Maybe they didn't know or she miscarried?" he suggests. "Maybe she was never found? Her kidnapping could be where the story ends."

"No, I'm still having dreams. Or I think I am. When I'm asleep, I feel like I'm travelling...but it definitely doesn't feel over." She muses. "I think I'm blindfolded in the dreams, lately. If I could just see –"

Sasuke's eyes widen, and he abruptly moves a few steps back from the wall. "Move out of the way. I'm going to try something."

"Huh?"

But she does as he says, watching just in time as his eye gleams red and the familiar six pointed star swirls into view. For several minutes, he surveys the wall in silence, his expression drawing closed, his eyes riveted to the depiction of Indra.

"What do you see?" she asks tentatively; it doesn't bode well that someone placed something on this wall that only someone with an evolved Sharingan can see.

"His face isn't blank," he says.

She can guess what he sees there. "The same eyes as yours?"

"Hm."

"And her?"

His gaze shifts. "There's nothing different about her. Except..."

"Except?"

"There's a seventh line here," he says, pointing to a space beside one of Shachi's children. Sakura feels something like relief flow through her.

"But why would they hide this child from everyone else?"

"It's not a child," he says. "It's a word."

The sense of relief dissipates. "What does it say?"

Sasuke shakes his head.

"It's very faded. Almost like whoever put it here had second thoughts and tried to scratch it away. With the wear, it could say...'vow.'" He shifts, changing his position to offer himself another vantage point. "Maybe 'oath,' or 'covenant'...or..." He stops here and shakes his head. "I'm sure I'm reading it wrong."

But his tone is too controlled and his jaw is clenched.

"What else could it mean?" she whispers.

Sasuke slowly turns to her, looking apologetic and concerned at the same time. "Curse."

眠り

When Shachi wakes up, she's been bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Someone carries her, people speak in whispers. Whenever she begins to make any type of noise, she finds herself quickly returned to unconsciousness.

She learns to remain quiet, straining her ears to figure out who her captors are, but no one speaks around her. She tries sometimes to call up her chakra, but finds it inaccessible.

Seals, Sakura realises angrily. They've got something sealing our chakra. This was planned.

Several times over the next few days (weeks?) she awakens to a miserable rocking and heaving.

Ship, Sakura realises, remembering the sensation, and the associated nausea.

Someone has removed Shachi's gag, which she is thankful for because her pregnancy and seasickness have her expelling the contents of her stomach for almost five days straight. Firm hands hold her steady as her shoulders wrack with spasms, and once she is in control of herself again, offer her water to keep her hydrated.

At first, she rejects this kindness, turning away and panting, trying to ignore the acrid taste in her mouth.

"Where am I?" she rasps desperately. "Who are you? Where are you taking me?"

Where is my husband? Where are my children?

The thought is immediate, visceral, and somehow it belongs to both Shachi and Sakura.

"Calm yourself, my lady," someone says. A man, young, and with the rough diction of a rural commoner. "You will not be harmed. Your restraints are for your safety – and ours."

He has not answered any of her questions.

"My husband will find you and slaughter you," she tells him furiously, utterly out of character for her.

Sakura wonders if it's her own emotional contribution, or if Indra's temper has rubbed off on his wife. The formerly mousy woman is positively simmering with justified wrath.

Still, her grandiose statement is undermined by another bout of vomiting.

"I have never seen someone so ill at sea before," the man says, sounding amused and a little nervous. "How did you get to that island, I wonder, if you were this sick?"

"It's not...just...seasickness," she retorts through gritted teeth. "I'm with child."

It's not the announcement Sakura would make, nor is it made to the person Shachi wanted to make it to, but perhaps her abductor will show mercy to a pregnant woman.

There's a sharp intake of breath.

"Shit."

There is a panic in the word, perhaps even dismay.

"If you return me to my home, I will simply tell my husband I got lost," she bargains. "I will keep him from coming after you. Just let me return home."

"I'm sorry, my lady," the man says. "It's very important that I bring you to my lord. It's for the greater good."

She doesn't get a chance to ask what he means before she once more feels a touch to the back of her neck and an unnatural sleep overtakes her. She only wakes again when a new voice breaks the silence.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she hears a loud voice demand, angry and female. The world is no longer rocking – she is off the ship, and something in the sharp, clear smell of the air tells her she is far from the sea. It makes the strange woman's voice echo. "How dare you bring someone here in such a brutish fashion!"

"It's imperative that the lord be fetched immediately," the man from the ship replies wearily.

"I don't care what imperative you think you have, you put her down right now! Release her!"

A different voice. "My lady, you don't understand. She is dangerous –"

"I am dangerous and yet I don't see you tying me up! Taizō, this is ill-advised even for you!"

"You'd understand if you ever let us get a word out, Lady Kanna," Taizō retorts. "This woman is the wife of Lord Indra. And she killed four men before we subdued her."

There is a heavy silence and Shachi feels as if she's been punched in the stomach. She knew the men who attacked her couldn't have survived, but somehow in the confusion of her abduction she hadn't thought of them.

The woman inhales sharply.

"You utter fool," Kanna says, breathless and scared. "Do you understand what you've done?"

"It had to be done," Taizō is stubborn. "If there's a chance –"

"You may have destroyed that chance!" she snaps and if Shachi could see, she would bet the woman is wringing her hands. "Very well. I'll fetch my husband. Have her bathed and any other needs seen to – from this moment, you will treat her with every respect that you would accord me, as you should have from the moment you so foolishly chose to abduct her."

"Y-yes, my lady."

"Bring her to the audience chamber when she's ready. And by the gods, treat her gently!"

Then the woman is gone, and Shachi is carried somewhere else, passed into the care of several nervous-sounding women. Her blindfold is removed, and when she blinks herself back to awareness, she is surrounded by strangers who eye her warily. Looking down at her wrists, she sees strange black symbols have been painted up and down her arms. Whenever she tries to call up her chakra, they gleam and she suddenly feels drained.

"Where am I? Why was I brought here?" Shachi demands of the women around her – servants, from their demeanour and their inability to answer her questions.

Eventually, she allows them to bathe and clothe her – partially because she feels coarse and dirty, but also because she knows that the servants are only doing their duty. They can't control the actions of their masters, and it's wrong to take out her rage and frustration on them.

And so, she endures their attention – thankful they aren't brave enough to ask her questions – and bides her time until there is a knock at the chamber door. Another servant appears and bids her to accompany him which she does, albeit stewing in silence.

She is brought into a dimly lit chamber. It is sparsely decorated, but instantly her eyes fly to the dais which has been draped with a white tapestry marked with the same six tomoe as her husband wears emblazoned on his robes.

Standing before the altar is a tall man with his back to her. When he turns to her, she feels as if her heart has leapt into her throat. He looks exactly like Indra only his hair is shorter and his eyes are surrounded by laugh lines.

And then he smiles at her.

"Hello, little sister," he says, "I am Asura."

夢

"It just doesn't make sense," Sakura declares, frustrated. "Why on earth would Asura kidnap Shachi?"

Despite the uneasy heaviness that's settled in her gut since her latest dream, she refrains from lashing out with fist against ground. It helps that she's currently seated, back to Sasuke's chest, his legs bracketing her on either side. After a rare day of inactivity, they are sitting together on the incline of a hill, watching the sun set over the forest. Sasuke's hand lays protectively across her middle; though she isn't showing much (it's not even noticeable from the front), there's no mistaking her condition anymore.

"From what you've told me Asura's wife said, it seems like he was unaware," Sasuke answers thoughtfully. "I'm inclined to think it was done without his knowledge."

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't his nature."

Sakura blinks in surprise, shifting around to look at her husband. "You mean you remember?"

"No. But he was like Naruto – or rather, Naruto was like him. Kidnapping is not something either of them would resort to no matter what the reason," Sasuke decides, certainty ringing clearly in his voice. "He would go directly to Indra, if he could find him. In fact, if he knew where Indra was, he would likely be trying to convince him to return – not kidnapping his wife. Especially not if he knew she was pregnant."

Sasuke's fingers absently rub across the curve of her belly and Sakura places her hand over his. He is freer when it comes to showing affection to the baby than he is with her, but she doesn't mind. It's bound to be a different relationship, a new one. Her connection to Sasuke is based on an entire past, one which has dictated the way they behave around one another, but this child –

It's going to be so different.

She can't wait to see it.

"This Taizō individual certainly acted rashly."

"You're telling me – what rational line of thinking has you kidnap the wife of a powerhouse like Indra?" Sakura wonders. "It's right up there on a list of dumb moves."

"Unless it was a tactical one."

Sakura makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"He knew she was Indra's wife. Perhaps his move was to force a kind of summit between the two brothers," Sasuke suggests. "Although to what end... I'm not sure. He had to know the danger. And Indra was not one to tolerate insults or such a blatant move against him."

Sakura nods.

She can't imagine Indra allowing Shachi's kidnapping to go unanswered, but at the same time, he wasn't exactly the type to act based on feelings – however deeply within him he could feel. If anyone were to try to use Shachi as leverage, she has a bad feeling that Indra would ignore the ultimatum on principle.

"I don't think so," Sasuke says and Sakura realises, once again, her thoughts have jumped from her brain to her mouth without her notice. "He cared for her."

This startles her. "How do you know?"

She may have suspected this sometimes in the course of her dreams, but to hear it voiced by her husband? He hasn't seen Indra as she has, claims not to remember his previous life, and often speaks of his former incarnation with varying degrees of suspicion and criticism.

"He would have to," Sasuke says. "Zetsu would have ensured it."

"Zetsu?"

"It's how he manipulated events and maintained his influenced over people. He crept into their hearts and exploited their fears," Sasuke explains. "It's the reason he gained influence over Indra in the first place. He used Asura against him, playing on his concerns about something happening to his brother. Indra wanted to become more powerful to protect him."

"I never knew that," Sakura says softly and feels Sasuke nod against her neck.

"His brother was the one he cared about most in the world which is why he reacted so viscerally to Asura's supposed betrayal. Once Indra removed himself from his family, he was alone again, and Zetsu would quickly lose influence. He needed someone to use as a means of manipulating him further into his hatred. Indra had had no other family –"

" – so Zetsu had him make one," Sakura whispers, feeling abruptly sick at the idea.

"Yes. Although, I doubt it could've happened unless Indra was drawn to her to begin with," Sasuke goes on. "In his travels, he would've encountered many women. Any one of them would've served Zetsu's purpose. But for his hold to be stronger, it had to be someone Indra felt something for already."

"He thought she had potential," Sakura remembers. "He told her so."

"And Zetsu would have noticed it. After all, Indra spared her life. That was probably the moment Zetsu knew. And he manipulated Indra to return for her, to lay the foundation for his continued control."

"The children," Sakura realises.

"As closed off as he was, even he couldn't be completely immune to his own offspring," Sasuke agrees. "I can imagine it. If by some twist of fate, I had...if I had any interest in repopulating the clan during the war – if I had children and someone were to threaten then...it would've been worse."

Sakura easily hears the I would've been worse and shivers.

"So, what do you think he did when he found out she disappeared?"

"I have no idea."

眠り

Indra's brother is both different from the stories Shachi was told and exactly as expected.

Her husband spoke of a boy – and then a man – who constantly needed to be protected and who, due to his lighthearted and carefree nature, was undeserving of their father's legacy. This man was jealous of Indra's natural talent and somehow poisoned their father against him.

What she finds instead is an earnest stranger who is as easily given to smiles as Indra is to frowns, and who seems desperate for Shachi to like him. When she refuses to speak to him for the first week, suspicious and distrustful of the man whose followers believed it necessary to steal her from her home, he prostrates himself before her in apology.

"The actions of those who gather around me may as well be my actions, however unintentional," he insists. "It was only concern for my older brother that moved me to send my friends out to find news of him. It is my sincerest hope to reconcile with him one day, but approaching him is dangerous, as I have no doubt you understand. Taizō's decision to bring you here was impulsive and unwise, even before he knew of your condition."

"Exactly what was he hoping to achieve?" Shachi asks frostily.

Asura glances up, apparently surprised that she has answered, and offers a weak smile. "From his account of things, he had a rather naïve hope that my older brother could be convinced to retrieve you. In doing so, he would have to reunite with myself and my father."

"Your friend has the logic of a child," she tells him coolly. Despite what she threatened Taizō with on the ship, she doesn't expect Indra will come for her. He has more important matters to see to, even if he has some soft spot for her. And given that he doesn't even know she's pregnant? "I assume by the fact that you all continue to live your man didn't leave any indication of who took me?"

"Um...it would seem so," Asura allows with a wince. "He, ah, seemed to think revealing who took you should wait until he was far from my brother."

"At least he has a modicum of self-preservation."

"I've said so," Asura agrees, and then pauses. His expression turns serious. "I want to make peace with my brother, but not in this way. Not with something held over his head."

"Then you will return me to my home?" Shachi asks.

"If that's truly what you wish," Asura says. "But consider your condition, little sister. Knowing that you carry my niece or nephew, I am hesitant to send you on another stressful journey so soon after you have arrived. Please consider staying and partaking of our hospitality a while longer."

"Your hospitality doesn't interest me," she replies. "It's not only my husband I was taken from, but my children as well. I need to return to them."

Asura appears chagrined at this and sighs. "Very well. If you're so certain. I will make arrangements for you."

"Thank you," she says stiffly.

"But before you go, will you not speak with my father? He is away at the moment, meeting with Lord Gamamaru, but I know he would like to meet the woman who has borne his grandchildren."

Shachi's eyes widen with thoughts of the old man's betrayal of her husband, and look away. "I would prefer not to, my lord. It's imperative I return home right away."

Asura is clearly unhappy about this, but he nods as if he expected it.

"I will do my best to return you as quickly as possible then."

As it turns out, it isn't quite so easy to honour his pledge.

つづく

_____

Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

クリ