Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Pressure on the Clay

Sakura used to think dreams of her old life were her private oasis, a break of the harsh life she's living.

In her dreams, Sakura would wake up next to her husband, her eyes wide and her breathing labored. His blue eyes would always fill with concern drawing a breath to ask her, "What's wrong?"

She'd always move stray rose strands from her face before quietly saying she had a nightmare and tell him of her reality. Her husband would gently place his hand on the side of her face tracing non-existent circles on her temple and ask her what it was before reassuring her nothing of such thing would ever happen to her, followed by a soft kiss.

She'd visit her parents, detailing the events of her week with utmost excitement. Their garden would be plentiful and they'd always share part of the crop for her to take home and cook.

At work her patients would smile when they saw her and they'd almost-always get better. Some nights she'd be woken up to help bring a new life into the world. She'd cradle the small infant gently to the table where she'd examine him before bringing him to his mom.

At the end of her day, she'd go home and ask her husband if they should start a family because she always wanted to be a mom. She'd melt into his caresses before drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

Now, when she wakes up from those dreams Sakura cries and tries to lull herself back to sleep praying she'll be spared of those nightmares.

Now, she wakes up alone her body deprived heat that her flimsy blanket does little to retain. Her feet ache, from hours of standing, hovering over fallen soldiers trying to desperately piece them together. Her gloves usually rip; a testament to their quality. Her are scrubs covered with stains; that she's tried so hard to wash.

Often trying to humanize them, hoping that they once had a life as happy as hers, because if she takes them for face value she might lose what little sanity she has left.

Today, her patient looks at her with dark criticizing eyes, asking her if she knows what she's doing. Normally Sakura would have ignored questions only responding to their superiors but his missing arm reminded her so much of her husband she responds without thinking.

"You just have some minor bruising on T-3 and T-4. You're just being kept for a little bit more monitoring."

"Just give me something for the pain. You can do that right." He replies huskily with a slight flirtatious tone that Sakura fails to pick-up on.

"Yes, sir."

They both know that his government deems men like him too valuable. Anytime ROOT's operatives are injured they are required to stay in the hospital until every wound of them is fully healed. She would be a fool to contradict him. The scars scattered across her body remind her of those days.

She checks other men's vitals, quickly writing them down before her shift was over. Before she makes her way over to the lockers before her guards come to get her.

Unsurprisingly there aren't many others like her at the hospital. She's heard rumors of another man in radiology who like her was taken from Japan.

She had caught her husband smoking a joint plenty of times and she often thinks of him as she smokes her cigarette while her guards diligently watch her in the back exit of the hospital she "works" at.

At the time his prosthetic was relativity flimsy and did nothing besides look like an arm. It was always a funny sight to her to see the way his eyebrow furrowed as he held the joint between his lips raising the lighter with his good arm.

The cigarette being pulled out of her lips and into the ashtray on top of the trashcan breaks her daydream. She allows her body to move as they turn her around and secure the handcuffs on her before walking into the back of the vehicle.

There are no windows in the car she's transported in. It's soundproof leaving her only to listen to heavy breaths of her guards and the occasional command.

Before exiting the vehicle a mask is placed on her and its only removed once she's back in her room and the door behind her is locked. She assumes this is so she has no chance of ever escaping further pushing her into dispear.

Her feet always hurt these days, so she wastes no time laying on her flimsy mattress. She looks over at her desk it's covered with medical text that have been provided to her. Knowing fully well she can never do anything to hurt them or they'll hurt her where it hurts the most

She wonders why they take all these precautions because she's never lashed out at them. They know she can never do anything to hurt them or they'll hurt her where it hurts the most.

In her sleep, she remembers the morning that she was kidnapped. She had woken up alone, for a change as her husband had been called in to investigate a fire. It was big news as nothing ever happened in her small village. She should have known something was off.

Like always she made her way to her parents only to find that they weren't home. For weeks they had been planning a vacation to America. How could she have forgotten? Every time she looked in the mirror and took in her western features she was reminded that she wasn't really Japanese despite spending all of her life there. Maybe that's why they never found her. Because they never really lost one of there own.

"We just want to take a trip through memory lane." Her mom tenderly said as she handed her a cup of tea the last day she saw her.

"We'll see you soon." They promised.

We need some space. They silently whispered.

She's in the middle of making curry when her phone rings. It's the hospital, someone is in with abdominal pain, sounds like its appendicitis.

Sakura takes a shortcut through an alley when her world turns to black. Next thing she knows she's in a boat. She can only assume this by the unnatural sway of the floor beneath her. And the faint smell of vomit that comes from the mouth of the man speaking to her.

Seasickness she assumes.

"Let me make this clear if you do anything to hurt us we will hurt them." The pictures laid in front of her were of her parents, her husband. The trip they took years ago to America because Naruto really wanted to go to Disneyland. Her helping her parents in their garden, picking the very food that they'd eat that day. How many years of planning had this taken?

It was the middle of the night when Sakura was moved again. This time into a house.

"Listen Bitch based on your previous behavior we think it is appropriate to move you into a more habitable zone. Lord Danzo is generous and has provided you a house, don't make him regret this." The guard grabbed the collar of her shirt as he ended his sentence. "Don't forget who is at risk here."

Of course, she couldn't escape, she saw the men that walked the streets, the uniform conditions of the houses. They're soldiers, all of them and they are aware of her presence.

She knows this by the way her neighbors look through her windows and the small track's dirt that are scattered throughout her house. Sakura hasn't found them yet but she knows that her house is littered with cameras.

However, she has a small yard, she can walk out into.

Maybe she can plant a garden.

lll