[Sakura, in his body, turns her back. It leaves him staring at his own figure from behind, uncloaked to reveal the white, high-collared shirt he's dressed in, left sleeve loose at the side. The perspective is for a moment badly disorienting again — panic climbs in his chest, feeling unmoored from the tether of his physical self and left on the outside in a keen sense of disassociation. The lack of control makes his palms sweat. Both of them, a fact further distancing himself from what he knows; he wipes them on the long cloak around his shoulders. He isn't himself, but he is himself, he has the same mind and the same memories... but his chakra is wrong, and the longer he stares at his own back, the worse it feels. Like a piece of his soul fit sorely in the wrong place.

Then he begins to see the tells of Sakura's inhabitance, subtle in the rounding of shoulders, how — even in his body — she appears to make herself smaller in stature, whether consciously or not, whether a result of her own normally slighter figure or something else. How despite her appearance, it still feels like Sakura is there. The panic eases; he would rather have her in possession of his body than nearly anyone else, who wouldn't understand the Sharingan, who wouldn't keep a clear head about the problem. His own relief surprises him.]

If we don't have an idea of how long it could take, then we have to be careful in the meantime. Neither of us are trained in the same areas of specialization. We're dangerous to ourselves and our surroundings. [The thought of Amaterasu accidentally being triggered... He struggles against the negative spiral of that thought.] And it would confuse anyone who interacts with us.

[Naturally his mind goes to Naruto, but it doesn't stick there long. The idea of Naruto finding him in Sakura's body...

A questioning glance is thrown her way before he obeys the direction and unpockets the bandage, holding it out as he takes a few steps closer.]

Why?