Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Naruto.

Note: Dedicated, of course, to Hiei's Cute Girl, as promised. Because she wanted an ItaSaku. I'm apologizing in advance just in case it turns into something else by accident. (What? It happens!)

An Armed Truce

Prologue: Storm and Illusion.

The border between the Earth and Fire countries was clear to any with eyes. The border of Fire Country where the trees grew largest, tall and thick; an impregnable fortress that was home to the ninja who guarded it. The border of Earth Country, where the trees broke away, the sharp rocks shooting up from the ground, growing into a fierce mountainside, patrolled by their own ninja.

And between, a barren stretch of land that grew neither grass nor stone. You had to be fast, agile and extremely lucky to cross without being seen and confronted. The consequence for failing was often deadly.

The war between Earth and Fire country had been over for years.

It was an armed truce at best.

"Is the room to your taste? Sakura-san?"

Slowly, she turned away from the window looking out on No Man's Land, closing the narrow wooden case she'd brought along with a faint metallic snap.

"It's perfect, Ruriko-san," she said with a warm smile. She put the case into the desk drawer, locked it and pocketed the key. "I wasn't aware that our Border contingency had such grand quarters."

"It's not ours," the aide corrected nervously. "It's neutral territory. Your father's idea. Haruno-sama thought that it might be a good idea to have--"

"--A place to argue for prisoners," one eyebrow rose. "I'm well aware of the plan."

"Yes," the aide bobbed fiercely. "I forgot. You're Haruno-sama's daughter. It's just that you're so--"

"Young?" Sakura smiled, leaned against polished wood. "I hear that all the time. It comes in handy sometimes. If you've met my father, you'll see that it runs in the family."

"I haven't met him, no," beady eyes flicked to the bag still laying on the bed, away, and then back. She took several hurried steps for it. "The maids haven't put your things away? I'll just..."

In three steps, Sakura had her by the wrist. "I prefer to do my unpacking on my own. I'm sure you understand."

Sweat beaded on the girl's brow, and when Sakura released her wrist she quickly brought it to her other hand, massaging bruised flesh. "I--yes. I understand. I just thought..."

"That's fine," she smiled again. "Was there anything that you wanted?"

"Suzuki Masasugi-sama requested your presence, Sakura-san. The Earth Country representative Tokiwa is also there. Suzuki-sama said, if you have the time..."

For a long moment, she said nothing, merely looked at the girl. Then she straightened. "It appears that I've chosen the right time to arrive. I also have something to say to them. And it's not right for the Earth and Fire Country representatives to wait for a mere Chuunin."

The aide bowed quickly, and held open the door so that Sakura could leave before leading her down the long corridor.

It was empty, of course. This was a meeting place, and, in the middle of that No Man's Land, far too open to attack. The bedrooms the building was equipped with were for guests, all right, but only on a temporary basis. The more permanent rooms were underground, and reserved for refugees from either side of the line.

Dealing with refugees was dangerous, which was why neither country let them into their land. But sometimes the border guard couldn't stomach executing children.

"They're in here," Ruriko said quietly, coming to stop by a set of double doors with extravagant molding and inlay.

Her father's idea, Sakura knew. He was an expert at setting the scene, and this was definitely set as an Important Room. There were probably several other, similar doors scattered around, to act against assassinations.

Similar, but not exact. Oh no, that would be an insult. She almost smiled, almost able to hear her father lecturing. He always lectured.

Smoothly, she opened one door, noting out of the corner of her eye the two large men in the center of the room. One brown from the sun, long brown hair spilling out over his shoulders. The other more pale, but muscular; having the build of an active lifestyle.

The first was Suzuki, she decided. His clothes were built for battle. The other dressed like a pat on the head, in mock official style--which was to be expected. No Earth Country official ever came to the borders voluntarily. It was, she was too aware, a joke to them. In their mind, they could destroy it any time they wanted to.

That was how the people kept their morale.

"Were you waiting long?" She asked politely, sliding into her professional mask, stepping toward the empty chair at the foot of the table. A deliberate move. Suzuki and Tokiwa had both chose to keep to the head of the table--both for the prestige, and to keep anyone from their backs.

Sakura chose the chair closest to the door.

"Who are you?" The Earth Country official demanded suspiciously.

"Haruno Sakura, at your service. I'm here to represent Konoha in this meeting. I assume that you were informed."

Color splashed across his face. "You? A child? Is this a joke?"

Her eyes narrowed fractionally, but the smile didn't falter. "The Haruno family have been responsible for this border house since the truce. My family has been a member of every council concerning said truce. As my father is indisposed at this time, the responsibility for this task fell to me. And of course I have a vested interest."

Suzuki straightened in his chair, and waved off the two children standing beside him.

Ahn, not children. They were at least her age. As they left, both aimed her a green-eyed glance, the girl's filled with resentment.

Strange, for a Suzuki, but unimportant.

"Your children?" She asked curiously, a vague smile on her face.

"My daughter," he answered, one eye on the door. "And nephew."

The cousins closed the door discreetly behind them, and then they were alone.

"An interest, you said," he prompted, steepling his fingers.

"We'll get to that. Distractions are for after the work is done."

That made him smile fondly. "You do sound like your father."

"I sound like my teacher," she corrected primly, and folded her hands. "So what was the first order of business?"

"There have been refugees," Suzuki said after the slightest moment. "More so than usual for this time of year. Flood season."

Both eyebrows rose. "Intelligent and reckless." The refugees would get through the line easier if the patrol was distracted with safety measures. Of course, they could also be swept away themselves. Since it seemed she interrupted, she waved a hand. "How many are we talking about here?"

"Thirty-seven. And all fleeing through Earth Country."

She waited a moment, sensing there was more, but when nothing was said spoke again. "How many survivors?"

"Four. Only one person of note. A minor lord somewhere," that was waved off. But the man's clear green eyes were on her. "Only thirteen were from Earth Country. Eighteen were shinobi."

Her head shot up and her eyes actually widened before she controlled herself. "Really," she looked toward the other official questioningly. "How curious. Do you have any explanation for so many foreigners in your country, Tokiwa-san? It's not your turn for the Chuunin exams, is it?"

She may as well have questioned his manhood. A dark flush covered his face, and he glowered at her. "I'm afraid not. You can be sure that we are looking into the matter currently. It has top priority."

She smiled. "Then I'm sure we can leave that matter in your capable hands. You'll keep us informed of the progress, of course." She overrode him before he could protest. "As it was our people who paid for this oversight."

He nodded stiffly.

"Do we still have the bodies?" She asked, turning back to Suzuki.

"We do. Ruriko can show you where they're located whenever you like. You have only to ask. Your family always has full access."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." There was a moment of silence as she examined her hands. "If you're interested, Tokiwa-san, there have been some whisperings."

"Where your 'interest' comes from, I assume?" The tone was snide.

"Mmm. Correct."

"Then please tell us, Haruno-sama."

She dismissed the mockery without a twitch. "Akatsuki."

He snorted. "You Leaf nin would blame a hangnail on Akatsuki. If that is the extent of your help, allow me to pay for your services." He flicked a coin at her in a practiced move that had her smiling in pure admiration.

"I'm going to have to remember that one," she said, sounding cheerful enough that Suzuki actually looked at her in pure surprise, an instant before he'd have blasted the man. Easy, she reached out and picked the coin off of the table, held it up to her face. "It was very effective. And you have yet to see the full extent of my services. I'll accept this as a faith payment. We'll settle when the job's done."

"Sakura-san, this is highly unorthodox," Suzuki started to protest.

She merely smiled. "Yes, but my family would skin me if I don't see how very deep Tokiwa-san's pockets are. I may as well get paid for doing something I would do anyway. And employment prevents many questions, and opens even more doors." A small, wicked pause. "I have the papers in my room. They merely wait for your signature."

Tokiwa actually laughed. "It seems that I've played right into your hands, Sakura-san."

"Is there any other way to play?" She slid out of her chair. "If you'd care for a demonstration before your signature, I'm headed toward the cell now." She turned away with a slight inclination that might pass for a bow and opened the door, where the aide was waiting just outside.

"There you are," she said. "Good. I'd like to see the prisoners, if you please."

She looked surprised. "Those people? Why would you..."

"Want to see them? Because that's what we do." She smiled. "Don't worry, Ruriko-san; it's hardly the first time a medic nin had to oversee prisoners."

"Medic nin?" Suzuki repeated, exiting the room behind her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "That's right. Weren't you informed?"

"Chuunin exam," Tokiwa said quietly in shell-shocked tones. "Two years ago in Earth Country. You fought the Hyuuga boy. Almost killed him."

"He almost killed me right back," she said, and just the memory made her warm. Just like she'd wanted; he hadn't held back. The match had come up a draw, of course; both of them coughing up blood. But they'd both made Chuunin.

Of course, due to circumstances, no one had won that tournament, either.

"He's Jounin now," she told him. "I understand he's doing good work there, if you'd like to contract him for anything."

"I contracted you shortly after the match," the Earth Country official continued to reminisce. "Unless I'm mistaken, you did some work for me then, too. An escort mission."

"Then I know your money is good. People who deal in broken promises are seldom repeat customers."

Tokiwa continued to smile. Probably, she had to admit, because now he thought he had her. People driven by money could always be bought by a higher bid, but they tended to be honest--in everything but price.

There'd be no point in proving him wrong.

Either of them.

"Is this it?" She asked when the aide stopped outside a door downstairs.

"It is," she said, and slid open the door.

Three children and a minor lord, barely any older, she mused. All four bruised and bloody, covered in mud and filth. But only three were actually in chains.

The genjutsu had all the power of a mosquito, but by the time the officials recovered, Sakura already had a kunai in the kid's throat, shattering any residual effects. Red-rimmed green eyes were wide in shock, and he didn't move.

Rumiko hovered nearby, looking shaken. "Is he...?"

"Alive. For now." She turned to glare at Suzuki, who stood embarrassed at the lapse. "Why weren't they watched?"

He straightened quickly. "They were. The guard seems to have disappeared. I'll get to the bottom of it."

"You move fast," Tokiwa said in admiration. "Did he even get you with that genjutsu?"

"The day I'm caught in a low-level Academy genjutsu is the day I die," she said, and had the pleasure of watching him flush at the insult. She glanced at the other hostages quickly, sensing movement, but it was only Ruriko. "If any of you feel like doing something stupid, I'll kill you," she warned coldly, and moved her hand to the kunai in the boy's neck.

"He can't survive this," the aide murmured nervously, kneeling close to her. "If he dies..."

"If he dies, we give his body to his family," Sakura said impatiently. "Or we burn it. But he's not going to, because I'm the best." With one hand on the kunai and the other on the neck, her hand glowing green, slowly, steadily, the bright red arterial blood stopped flowing.

Of course, there was still blood loss, and he could have gone into shock, but he was still breathing. For the moment. And she'd left his vocal cords intact.

"If you have to tie someone up in the future," she told Suzuki coolly, "you separate their fingers too. Ninja can untie knots. And picking locks isn't that difficult. Right, Blondie?"

The boy's companion had undone his own restraints, but had ended up dropping the chain. Extra noise in suspicious circumstances.

She ran a finger down his chin. "Aren't you a bit young for the Academy, kid?"

He snapped at her fingers and put on a mutinous expression. "Who cares about the stupid ninja academy, anyway?"

"People who don't want to be dirt poor their entire life." But her eyebrows rose. "You're older than you look, too, aren't you? Who'd have thought. Gentlemen, it looks like we have a rookie team on our hands here. I want all four of them searched again, and then resecured correctly. And then I want to see the bodies."

Of course, it wouldn't do for them to surprise the guards and escape...

After several years of studying, training and experience, for Sakura, there was only one certainty: that everything would go the way she expected it to. Failing that, at least, was unacceptable. So there really was no surprise at the collection of bodies.

Slowly, she knelt beside one of those wearing a forehead protector, reached out to catch the man's chin. Not bad looking, which was a little surprising. He flesh was firm and full, rather than haggard, and he seemed to live an active lifestyle out of doors.

More surprising was that, aside from the mud on him, that may have well come from the floor, he was mostly clean. His injuries were all minor, barely drawing blood, except for what she had to assume was the killing blow--what appeared to be a hole that cut through the ribs, and into the heart.

The other bodies were equally clean, equally injured.

"Is this common?" She asked quietly, checking the killing wound. The skin was cold; the blood was still. There was no heartbeat. The body was dead. Cautiously, she sniffed the blood. "Killing this many with only this much struggle?"

"It was strange," Suzuki admitted, scratching his head. "Being off-season and all. Seemed like they wanted to die."

"Probably because they were already dead when they got here. This is oil." She lifted the body's shirt up, revealing a large hole in his chest, right over the heart. Uncannily like a certain Akatsuki member's living puppets, for all that Sasori was dead now. Which she knew firsthand, on account of having been there at the time. "I'll have to check the others to be sure, but it seems like we have a puppet master on the loose."

And more than a dozen possible suspects.

"Puppets, you say?" Tokiwa queried, fiddling his fingers. "What do you suppose that means? Akatsuki?"

"It's in their style," she admitted. "Unfortunately, Akatsuki's puppet master has already been killed. So it could mean anything. Scavengers, copycats, old students." She rocked up to her feet again, and almost turned around before she thought of something. "Why didn't anyone ask about the lack of blood?"

Suzuki shrugged. "There's a farm nearby in Earth Country. Grows this plant that thickens the blood. It's the only food source between here and the nearest village. You eat the stuff and you can cut off an arm, and it'll barely bleed."

Her eyebrows rose. "Convenient." So the puppet master--or whoever hired him--had to be familiar with the area. And from all of these forehead protectors, either did a lot of travel, or had several outstanding warrants.

Until she had more information that that, however, there was nothing she could do except wait them out. And stir up as many nests as she could.

"Who made the kills?" She asked, wiping the fake blood from her fingers. "I'd like to speak with them."

"You've met them," Suzuki said. "My daughter and nephew, Suzuki Matsu and Kuriko."

"Really," she said, remembering that nasty glare the girl had given her. "How very convenient."

He stiffened. "What does that mean? You can't think that they had anything to do with this."

"Do either of them use puppets?"

For a second she thought he wasn't going to tell her. But then he sighed. "Kuriko."

She nodded. That was just as she'd thought. "That's rare for one of the Suzuki clan, isn't it?" According to her father, they were mostly close-range fighters.

"My daughter has nothing to do with this," he said quietly.

She touched his arm. "It's very hard for a parent to think otherwise," she said, and turned away. "Why don't we take a short break and have lunch? You can put things into perspective, and Tokiwa-san can sign our contract."

"You have yet to do anything worth hiring," he pointed out, following her.

"Which means you can argue about price, guilt-free," she tossed a wink over her shoulder. "I'll meet you in fifteen minutes. Ruriko-san can escort me."

"Do you really think Masasugi-sama's daughter did it?" The aide asked the instant the two men were out of sight. And looked askance when Sakura started straight toward the holding cell. "Where are we going? Your rooms are that way."

"I don't need fifteen minutes to get a piece of paper out of my pack," she said crisply. "I wanted a minute alone with the prisoners."

The girl blinked. "What for?"

"How many puppet masters do you know of that can use thirty-three puppets at one time?" She asked. "There's actually very few. One of the best I've heard of could only use ten--one for every finger. Akatsuki's Sasori used one hundred, but he's dead now." She was near the door now, but waited, giving the girl a narrow look. "Either way, we're dealing with more than one puppeteer. And likely we're missing some puppets."

What she didn't say aloud was that, should any of those prisoners be one of the puppeteers, binding their fingers was unlikely to do much.

Should have drugged them, she thought irritably, but the mixture takes too long to prepare.

"Why isn't anyone outside?" She wondered aloud, lightening her steps, putting her chakra on a slow boil. She put herself between the aide and the door, slowly cracked open the door. And there were two of the guards, one holding the key ring, the other just standing there. Not one of the prisoners were chained.

They didn't notice her yet. She straightened, prepared to just wander amiably inside, but someone shouted and their heads all shot up. And ended up looking right at her.

Damn it.

Her hand shot up, her own kunai parrying the one thrown. The larger guard shot through the door, tackled her with all the strength of a battering ram, but she'd gotten her knee up in time, filled with chakra. He was knocked back into the door; she fell back against the wall.

"Get out of here!" She yelled at the aide, straightening just in time for the second attack. The second guard shot over the head of the first, the keys jingling in his belt, his hands extended like claws, oil dripping from them. She sidestepped just in time, flung one chakra-filled arm out to give him more speed; sent him through the wall.

Enough noise to get everybody's attention.

The bastard had been wearing something on his back. She'd broken her damn arm, blood and more oil dripping down it from the hole stabbed below her elbow.

Knowing her luck, poison.

There was no time to burn it out of her system, or to fix her arm. She moved just in time to dodge the gorilla again, and walked into a blade-swinging puppet for her trouble.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Suzuki Kuriko screamed, chakra strings blazing on her fingers. "You bastard!"

So she'd been the one who shouted, Sakura thought, blocking the first swing with her boot, which only put her back into the second guard's slash. His fingers were like knives, and cut through her like paper, scoring across her ribs. More oil.

She caught his wrist, turning, swung him like a mace. And, reaching for her pack, threw a quick smokeball as the hallway was filled with more guards, including Suzuki and Tokiwa.

Dropping to the floor, she damped down her chakra, pushed up against the wall inches from the two guards' feet. Her body was on fire, and her vision was starting to get hazy, but pure stubbornness kept her from moving as with a sharp snikt-snikt-snikt the floor grew a layer of kunai. Slowly, her hand found the hole in the wall, and she pushed herself through, wincing silently at the pressure placed on her broken arm.

And wound up looking up into the cold green eyes of Suzuki Matsu.

"She's out here!" He called, a frosty smile on his face.

She moved, barely able to dodge the katana he swung, and only by a fraction of an inch. She planted one hand under her, thrust upward, landed a kick into his chest that knocked him back a few steps, and, channeling chakra into the bottoms of her feet, exploded off of the ground. Just in time to dodge his cousin's puppet as it came out at her from the rooftop.

"If you waste all of your time on me, the prisoners are going to escape," she warned slowly, dodging, inch by inch, the swinging blades. "Your guards released them."

"Liar," he said, voice smooth and unruffled. "Our men are loyal."

"Your men have been turned into puppets," she corrected, and spat black liquid into his eyes. "They bleedoil."

He stumbled back, wiping it out of his eyes. And while he was distracted, she kicked him solidly upside the head, letting him crumple to the ground. Her good hand pressed an explosive tag to the puppet, and lit it as she ran, leaped onto the roof to slide across the top of it, and kicked a hole into the wall on the other side.

Just in time to see the thirty-three bodies come to life.

Her hand pressed against the hole in her arm, healing it as quickly as she could despite her swimming head. Breath flowed in and out of her lungs, a kind of meditation, not even interrupted at the sound of an explosion and wooden pieces raining down.

"I'll be damned," a whispered voice said at her back. "You were telling the truth."

All four prisoners were standing in the room, clearly unchained, both guards at their sides.

The young-looking ninja smiled at her. "Actually," he said, and his voice deepened, "she was only half-right."

The other ninja also smirked as they all aged visibly. "We aren't rookies."

Her eyebrows rose. All of them--including the so-called minor lord--all had a face in the bingo book. She smiled at the one she'd stabbed in the neck earlier. "Takaishi," she said welcomingly. "Hello again, old friend. If I'd known that was you I wouldn't have aimed to wound."

His smile was glacial. "How do you like my poison, Sakura-chan? I made it just for you." His voice was scratchy; she had, after all, scratched his vocal cords.

"Aww, and I didn't even bring you anything."

"That's perfectly fine," he said, and his fingers lifted. "Just die and we'll call it even."

Sakura reached back, caught Kuriko's shoulder, and shoved her out of the way.

"Stay back," she said, "his puppets are filled with hallucinatory gases. Blondie likes explosions. The other two are straight poison and bone-breaking power."

"You're familiar with them," the girl noticed, picking herself off the ground. "Why?"

She bared her teeth. "Because they're the world's worst assassins in history," one hand reached into her pocket, withdrew the key and threw it at her. "Go get my case out of the desk in my chambers. There's something in there that might even the odds. I'll keep these guys distracted until you get back."

"You can't fight them by yourself," she protested.

"I don't remember asking your opinion. Get lost. And tell your friends to stay off my back while I handle things here."

Frustration and annoyance marked the girl's face, but she nodded and ran. Sakura caught a kunai, pinned one of the puppets to the wall before it could move more than an inch.

Cheekily, she wagged one finger. "Sorry boys, but your quarrel's with me. Leave the chicklet alone. At thirty-three to one, you'll be finished before dinner."

"As you wish," Takaishi said, that frozen smile on his face. "This time, I won't hold back."

Several puppets shot out of the cell, all aimed in a circle around her. She slid a foot back, planted a foot, thrust forward between them and stumbled, the mud catching her foot. Chakra built in her hand, helped her roll, pushed her between them. That put her back to the others--a dangerous step, but a necessary one.

The ground was too damp. Unlike the time she'd 'met' Takaishi, there was no chance that she could punch up a layer of dust to combat the gases. So she'd have to improvise.

She pulled an explosive tag out of her pouch.

And watched all thirty-three puppets change shape. Arms grew longer, swung like a mace, necks grew up, back. Legs split into thirds, quarters. Spikes shot out from virtually every direction. Some mouths opened, long and wide, to reveal a muzzle that could probably shoot anything.

She lay the tag down, stood over it, and started throwing kunai again. She wasn't going to have enough. She never did. But the several puppets she'd hit managed to stay pinned for an entire eighth of a second before they followed the rest. Perfect.

One foot turned, slid, and she placed her back to the oncoming puppet, reached behind her to snap out the kunai that impaled it. Oil spilled in a slow drip, blackening the ground. She threw the kunai at another puppet, and reaching out yet again for another kunai, dragged another puppet towards her to place between herself and the larger of the two guard puppets. Too slow to dodge away, almost found herself impaled when the puppet between them grew a thin band of spikes.

She caught the shoulder, yanked herself up onto the larger one's shoulder, and put herself out of the way of six spinning swords. Her hand fisted, chakra burned, and she punched a hole into the puppet's back. Her hand burned.

Of course he'd been boobytrapped. Every one of these people knew her name, her abilities.

Her personality.

So she planted her feet on the ground, lept, spun, and took off the puppet's head. Oil and acid scattered across the ground. She wiped her fingers in the burning liquid and looked at the puppet masters, who had all long since covered their faces to keep away the hallucinatory effects of the gas. Her smile turned feral. Shikamaru wasn't the only one who used pain for clarity and control.

Chakra pooled in her feet, kept her from sinking into mud as she ran for them, dodging here and there between puppets, knocking holes in them, until, inches from the puppeteers, slid one of the puppets that shot fire from its mouth. She hesitated a second too long, and found herself surrounded by puppets, three of the blade-spinning ones flowing down to attack her at once. She flipped away, saved by mere inches, and was a prisoner of gravity long enough for one to score against her, blade shooting her up higher into the air.

There was no Chiyo to save her here, no strings burned into her human skin that would keep her an inch from danger at all times. There was no one to watch her back.

Here, for a bloody, pain-filled second, she wondered why she preferred it that way.

She couldn't stay here. This high, the gases would affect her better. This much longer, she'd be dead. She couldn't do everything she wanted to dead. She couldn't protect, she couldn't preserve, and she couldn't rescue what damn sure never should have been stolen in the first place.

Leap of faith.

Her hand shot out and caught one of the blades, dragged it around her. Dangerous; not the kind of weapon for swinging. No choice. It parried every attacking puppet, and she only had to suffer through the gas that came out of its pipes. Provided she was breathing right now.

The bright thing about puppets was that they were virtually solid no matter how high they were. She pushed herself up onto its shoulders, kicked the thing's head off to give her more room, and to keep its head from rolling up and shooting her, and spun around, breaking pieces off of the other puppets that swarmed too close. Until the thing fell, appropriately enough, like a doll.

Nothing to slow her down, put between her and the spinning blades of death. Her broken arm was still too weak to use a swapping jutsu. The choices here were to land on her feet, risk breaking them and end up too stunned to dodge the blade that would surely go through her heart, or not to turn at all and die instantly.

Of course, there was also option C: grab onto the falling puppet, put it between her and impact, and scream like hell--knowing that there was no chance they'd impale the puppet just in case the gases turned it into a bomb. And here--it was time to put her plan into action.

She broke off one of the blades on the puppet that had saved her, and ran back toward the puppeteers, waving it like a challenge. One of the fire-spitting puppets placed itself between her and them, and spat at her. She twisted, arm threw the blade into the thing's midsection, and smiled as oil and accelerant. spilled onto the ground. The fire caught it, sped away, aimed with deadly precision toward the other puppets, lighting them up as it caught onto their human clothes and flammable bodies. All that hadn't caught already fled into the air, the majority massed in one place.

Smiling like hell, Sakura raised one hand, and the explosive tag she'd placed earlier lit.

And seconds later, the operating number of them had been quartered. Flying dirt kept her hidden, but loud voices and screaming--had she caught one in the fire?--gave away her opponents' direction. There was also a steady humming, the sound of one of Takaishi's blade puppets spinning away the dirt, protecting him so that she couldn't sneak up on him.

She knelt low to the ground, using the time she'd scavenged to heal the worst of her injuries. Several, she noticed now, had not only gone deep but had come almost fatally close to her spine. Paraplegia was not generally something that increased a ninja's life expectancy. Especially not when you happened to be as popular as she was.

"How's your thumb, Takaishi?" She asked quietly, tone mocking. She didn't have to see to know the dark look that flashed across his too-pretty face at the reminder of their first bout. The one where she'd broken virtually every finger in his left hand--his dominant. Their next match had proved that he'd recovered mostly, but his thumb would always be useless to him. He still screamed when you so much as touched it.

He didn't answer, of course. To return banter would lower him. But she knew, just by listening, that he'd sent out his puppet--which meant that there was no blade-wielder between her and him. She moved swiftly through the mist, and threw--one, two, three--and heard another scream.

The hum of the bladed puppet grew stronger, the dirt curtain grew thinner; she was only going to have one chance. She pulled another explosive tag from her pack and dropped it to her stomach--out of sight, and just below the spinning blades. She stuck the tag onto the leg and made a whimpered sound, quickly muffled, as though she tried to stifle even that much sound.

"Bastard," she said weakly, choking on spit, her voice choked with pain. She tossed a clump of mud away from the puppeteers, and was lucky enough that it sounded like a sick stumble away. Predictably, the puppet was sent after her, but she didn't get off of her stomach for a long time, simply pushed herself along with her toes, moving like an inchworm.

The hum started to get louder. Takaishi had realized how vulnerable he was and had given up on an imagined kill to defend against a definite death. So he wasn't quite as stupid as he looked. But the puppet was still too far away. One foot planted itself beneath her now, filled with chakra, and launched her up. For the second time that day, she drove a kunai into his throat.

The reaction was immediate: the puppet he'd been using fell lifeless to the ground. She lay her mouth against his ear.

"If you move," she said, "you'll die. See the bright red blood? Arterial blood. Anyone but a medic-nin takes that out and you'll be dead in ten seconds. You do anything stupid, and I'll just let you bleed to death."

The funny thing about Takaishi was that he was terrified of dying. Overly vengeful and terrified of anything greater than a paper cut--and suffering from delusions of grandeur that had him believing that he'd ever stood a chance against her. He was also a genius, however poor his genjustu was. That was why they'd gone against each other so often. He hated believing that he was second best.

"Not a sound," she whispered, but the others didn't seem to have heard the trouble here over the blonde's screaming. Quietly, she checked her pouch, and counted only two more kunai. She'd have to be quick, smooth, and lucky--and very precise to not end up killing them.

Piece of cake.

She could understand why her father was always so exhausted after trips to the border, Sakura thought wryly, breath rough. The Suzuki clan hardly gave her a second alone, and everyone swarmed around her, talking at once. Apologizing over and over for attacking a Haruno--not just any Haruno, but Haruno Sen's daughter. That she was the Hokage's apprentice was beyond their notice; she was the only child of their savior and most loyal friend.

"I have to apologize," Suzuki was saying now, very pale under his tan. "You were wrongfully attacked in what was supposed to be a safe house, by my own daughter. Please, forgive us."

"I can hardly blame you for allowing yourselves to be manipulated like puppets," she said, polite smile in place. The comment stung, just as she'd intended. "And I insulted your home by suspecting your daughter. A loving father always looks for reasons the insult is misguided. You were entitled."

"Feelings should be left at home," he said gravely, bowing his head. "So your father told me. Very well. But if you cannot forgive me, please forgive my men. They know nothing about who you are, and acted accordingly."

She patted his arm with her bandaged hand. "Of course. They're still alive aren't they?" She moved her face closer. "But just between us, I only pretended to suspect your daughter to draw out the real enemy. Why do you think I left your men alone? Except for that bruise I gave your nephew."

"I apologize," he said again. "From now on, you will always have our trust."

"Then I'll be disappointed," she said, eyes narrowing. "You've done exactly what you should have. No matter who it is acting questionably, you should act accordingly. Anyone can Henge and walk straight in here through the protected levels. And the prisoners." She reached for her case now and opened it, turning so that the case faced away from her. Several small blades were propelled out, shikt-shikt-shikt, and there was a line of shuriken stuck in the wall. She turned the case back around and withdrew a few vials of clear liquid. She handed them over.

"Inject any prisoners with this," she said. "It's a drug that makes the person injected very amiable. It slows down reaction speed, increases likelihood of talking, and makes it almost impossible to control your chakra. It also will cancel any jutsus that are already in place, including Henge no Jutsu." She also pulled out a scrap of paper. "Here's the recipe for it, as well. Most of the items on the list should be local, so you shouldn't have any problems."

He took the paper, but kept one eye on the wall. "Do you always do such things?"

She smiled and moved to collect them. "I go to many strange places." She stretched and yawned, covered her mouth with one hand. "If you'll excuse me, I'm tired. It's been a very long day. I'll speak with you in the morning."

"Of course," he said quickly. "You remember where your rooms are?"

She smiled. "Ruriko-san can escort me. Don't worry, Suzuki-san; I won't go wandering again just yet." She pocketed her shuriken, closed the case and tucked it under one arm, and lifted her bandaged hand to wave as she left the room. "Don't forget to use those quickly. They only work for six hours at a time before you need to inject them again."

"I'll see to it personally."

The aide was just down the hall, among a circle of people talking quietly. Suzuki Kuriko and Matsu were both there, side by side, as was Tokiwa. Sakura paused, rather than simply call the aide and continue walking. However tired you might be, you never showed such weaknesses in front of a potential employer.

"Tokiwa-san," she said, smile in place. "What do you think? Have I shown anything worth hiring yet?"

The younger guards all laughed, and even Matsu smiled, but Kuriko had gone back to her narrow green-eyed glare. Tokiwa looked at her with something that might have been fondness, if she weren't Leaf nin and he wasn't an Earth Country official. "Blind stubbornness, intelligence, cunning, ability, and stamina. And an eye on the bottom line--profit," he said wryly, earning another laugh. "You can bring me the papers tomorrow. I'll sign them then."

"As you wish," she inclined her head. "I'll be going to bed then--so I can steal your money all the quicker. Come on, Ruriko-san. Everyone--goodnight."

The aide was quick to break away, following quickly with nice sharp steps. "Are you all right?" She asked quickly, as soon as they were further away from the group. "I saw your injuries. How could you have won against all of them without any help?"

"Blind stubbornness, intelligence, cunning, ability, stamina, and an eye on the bottom line," she said easily, tongue in cheek. "And I'm familiar with all of their fighting capabilities, having gone up against them all a time or two already."

"But with a broken arm," she protested. "And the poison..."

"Unfortunately Takaishi's poison had a grand flaw--his pride. It wasn't quick-acting, or very strong. Adrenaline slowed it down instead of speeding it up. All it did was give you a fuzzy head. He wanted to kill me up close and personal in as bloody and painful a way as he could. Well--up close for a puppeteer."

She nodded slowly. "I see. So you won because he didn't seriously try to kill you."

Sakura considered for a second and then nodded. "Exactly. And because I once fought against the best, and the one who died was him." It had been close--very close. She'd almost died that day. Chiyo had died. And in the end, the one who had killed Sasori was himself, and the heart he'd forgotten he still had.

But that wasn't her legend. The legend was her at her best, as the best, every time against every one--rival nin, missing nin, and Akatsuki. All was one in the same.

"Really," the aide said, eyes on her face for a long moment. "I see." She was quiet for a moment, still sneaking glances for several feet. "Do you think you'd be able to fight them again? If they get free?"

"Without question," she smiled at her. "Because I still have more chakra than they have puppets. And the drug I have them keeps them from being able to focus their chakra as well. If they can still walk in an hour, I'd be impressed."

She nodded slowly. "So we're safe then? No more fighting tonight?"

"Not from those three, no. Whoever they were working with might be a different matter. I know these people. Takaishi can only use, at most, eight puppets as a time. The lord used the same amount. The blond had seven, and the other one had six. Which means that we have four puppets unaccounted for--six if we're counting the two guards."

"Really." The aide was pale. "So there really might be trouble."

"Possible, but unlikely. Any attack now would result in them being unmasked. However good they are, it's impossible to strike quietly--not tonight." She reached out to pat the girl's shoulder and found her stiff as a rod. "You don't have to worry," she said. "Nothing's going to happen."

She nodded sharply. "You're right. Of course. Nothing."

"That's a girl." She smiled. "So have you been staying here long? You don't look like a Suzuki, which is why I'm asking."

"Since I was eight," she answered. "About six years."

"A very long time. And has Suzuki-san ever let anything hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No. I've always been welcome here."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. This place will always be your home." She paused at her door before going in. "Ruriko-san," she said after a moment. "'Ruri' means 'emerald', doesn't it? It's a very pretty name."

The aide blushed.

"Good night," Sakura said, and shut the door behind her.

Note:Oh my God, this was a long chapter. And kind of boring, and really hard to write. It is 7,210 words long--just this one chapter! Yes, over 28 pages long. Since Hiei's Cute Girl asked me to write it Saturday, I've been typing out a thousand words a day, and waiting impatiently for this chapter to finish. It's just the Prologue! What am I going to do when I get to the real story?

...Okay, so here's the fun part. Look up. See this chapter? There are huge spoilers here for anyone who reads my Boys and Girls fic. But you have to not only look at them, but also know where to look. Because Sakura's daddy, while bearing the same name as he does in Boys and Girls, does not have the same personality--in fact, he's nothing like this. However, he is very close with the Suzuki family--they treat(ed) him like the Hokage in that story, too.

Yes, the Suzukis appear inBoys and Girls--but unfortunately not for at least ten more chapters. Matsu and Kuriko have a pretty large role there, too (and also another story I'm plotting, that you'll have to see later).

Hmm...aside from that, I think that's pretty much everything.

The next chapter has mentions of Itachi and the other Akatsuki members, and you'll hear about why Sakura is here without her team or any backup, but there's no Itachi for a little bit longer after that. So, sorry. It just takes me a while to wind up! We'll get there...probably...

Oh, and since I'm here--guess what today is? No, not just Sunday. It's February 10--my birthday. So be nice, won't you, and review for me?