Maybe

The Curse

The next three days pass in a blur of darkness and depressing monotony.
Sakura's parents had long since fled to Kiri —for real this time — and had left her alone with her thoughts in the empty house.

For three days, the teen had drowned in her fears and crippling anxiety. What had possessed her to tell Sasuke that?
What if she was wrong? What if Itachi had truly gone batshit?
That night three days ago, Sakura's mind had been entirely focused on stopping Sasuke from doing something unrepairable like going after Orochimaru and being branded a rogue nin, all for the sake of meaningless vengeance.

She had revealed a deep, dark secret she discovered.
A secret she had discovered based on hear-say and far fetched theories.
And Sasuke had believed her enough to stay. Or not, maybe.
After all, she hadn't left her house since that night and anything could've had happened since then.
The mysterious ANBU could have heard everything and guessed the code she had tapped on her teammate's wrist. They could have reported to their master or to the new Hokage and maybe Sakura was now a criminal with a kill-on-sight warning.
And... she could also stop overthinking!

For three days, Sakura had done her best to come up with solutions and excuses. With reasons and alibis. She had gone as far as to plan an escape if she was branded a traitor. (Which was NOT going to happen).

And now, on the fourth day of staying confined to her room, she had decided – in her sleep deprived and desperate state – to come out and face the world.

The moment she stepped outside, she immediately regretted it.

She looked like a corpse, unnaturally pale skin with big and dark circles under her lifeless eyes. Her usually smooth and tamed hair was now a bird nest, pink curls that hadn't seen the shadow of a brush in days and were worst than even Zabuza's horrible haircut.

Like an automaton she walked through the streets of Konoha, letting her feet lead her to training ground seven.
There to her not-so surprise was Sasuke. He didn't look much better than her, and the instant he caught a glimpse of her he jumped up from his seating position and threw himself in Sakura's direction, nearly tripping on his feet in his hurry.
He caught her wrist in an ironical mirror of what she had done back at the Gate, and shunshined. 

Low on chakra and overall energy from her past few days spent curled up under her bed, Sakura swore, threw up and fainted.
Not particularly in that order.

When she came to her senses, Sakura was laying on a futon in an unknown (and depressingly bare) room.
Sitting in seiza opposite of her was Sasuke, his dark eyes trained on her, unblinking.

"Good. You're awake." In one fluid motion, he stood up. "Care to explain?"

Sakura didn't need to be a psychic to know what he was talking about.

"The wards are up. No one can come if they don't have my permission. No one can hear either."

All the information she had kept carefully under wraps, all the theories and fears and shadows she had internalised for weeks...

Sakura didn't need any more prompting. She told him everything.

::

It wasn't that Sakura trusted him, not by a long shot, but the constant stress and pressure that weighed on her had grown too much, and somehow she didn't think Sasuke would tell anyone.
First and foremost because he didn't talk.
At all.
Second because it concerned him and his clan, and if sometimes he talked, he never talked about his family.
And last but not least because she had enough blackmail material to incriminate just as much as he could her, if not more. She was also fairly certain that if he went to some higher authority to turn her in, she'd be able to have him in a cell quicker than any shred of evidence he might have against her might.

::

When Sakura finally finished Sasuke stayed silent for a long time, his face the same mask of coldness and apathy it had been back at the Academy.
But, slowly, cracks formed themselves, his lips began trembling slightly, his brow pulled together and his eyes glistened with unshed tears; the emotions strange on his usually blank face.

"The coup." He whispered and if Sakura hadn't seen his lips move she'd have thought she imagined it.

An ocean of questions crashed in her mind like a tsunami, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. She might not be the most 'people person' out there, but she at least recognised that Sasuke wasn't in a good place right now, and that her interrogations and aggressive way of demanding information would just make him clam up more.

So she waited patiently.

It was interesting how his face moved when all his walls were crumbled.
If Sakura had a notebook she would've been taking notes: the pure confusion that etched his face and slowly shifted into denial...
It was almost eerie how she could practically read his thoughts.
But, when his eyes turned to the familiar red and black tomoes and raw killing intent flooded the room, she couldn't push down the shiver of fear.

Anger was a normal stage of grief, she had read so in Shinobi psyche book 4, but, according to the same tome, it was followed by bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. Never was it mentioned the patient would go through hate.

Because, and Sakura was sure of it, the dark glow in Sasuke's sharingan had nothing to do with depression and all with pure and absolute hatred. The three tomoes were whirling so fast it made her head spin, and her teammate sported the same expression he'd briefly worn during the teams introductions... only a hundred times worse.

"Itachi was ordered?" Contrasting sharply with the red hot chakra flying around him and the unhinged look in his eyes, his voice was strangely soft and childlike. He slowly turned his face, the motion uncannily reminiscent of a doll's.

"The village ordered it?" He asked, confused. "The Hokage allowed it?"

The silence in the room was unbearably deafening.

"The Hokage ordered it."  He repeated, and all form of gentleness was now gone, his tone dripping with rage and blood lust.
Faster than she could react, Sasuke shunshined out of the room, and Sakura knew that wherever he was headed, he would only wreak havoc and bloodshed.