On Commission
By Shu of the Wind
She sleeps with a gun under her pillow.
It's not paranoia, or so she tells herself. A lot of it is because of her father. Actually, she could claim that it's all because of her father, but she won't because she admits to anyone who asks that she loves guns. She loves using them, studying them, the cool steel in her hands. She loves defending herself. She loves being able to defend herself when for so long she couldn't, wasn't allowed to.
It took a long hard fight with her father and then six months of not speaking to each other for her to finally get an apartment of her own, away from the compound. If he had his way, she would have been living there for eternity, but Sakura had protested. She had classes, she said. She needed to be closer to her school. It would be safer than living in the compound. No one would know who she was. She could even change her name if she wanted. Now, that he had vetoed. No Haruno would go under a different name out of fear of retribution, he swore, and slammed the door in her face.
But eventually she'd managed to get her way, and even though the apartment was owned and paid for by her father, she was the one who had the only key, and she cherished that. It was her space, away from the family, away from school, and she could finally own a cat without sending her mother into sneezing fit strong enough to decimate a small country.
And now she can't sleep.
Sakura slides her hand under the pillow, brushing the cool barrel with a fingertip and wondering how angry her father is with her. After all, he's the one who's put watches on her apartment. No matter how much he tries to hide, Naruto really isn't all that stealthy, and she's spotted the empty ramen cups mounting up in her garbage can. She would have invited him in for food a week ago, if she thought her father would tolerate it.
But since Naruto's watching her, supposedly covertly, she doesn't feel like it. After all, now that he's part of the family, he's not her old friend anymore.
What's that saying? It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.
The window creaks, and she slips out of bed, holding the gun. The pillow's bunched up and set under her covers. Sakura melts into the shadows by her closet, and waits.
He's good. She has to give him that. The window's levered open with barely a sound, and if she'd drunk the glass of wine she usually did in the evenings, then she wouldn't have been awake for him to garrote her. Or whatever he's going to do. The figure creeps forward, spider-quiet, the curtain fluttering in his wake; light gleams off of a gun in one hand. It has a silencer.
He sets it against the head of what would be the pillow, and Sakura steps forward. "You really think I'm that stupid?"
"Maybe." He says, and tosses the gun onto the bed. She slides hers off of safety. "Happy that you woke up, though. I don't like killing sleeping targets."
"That's funny, 'cause I don't like killing. But I will if you come back here again."
He turns.
Her first thought is that he's cute, for an assassin. Blonde hair, too long for a guy; blue eyes; good bone structure. If she'd seen him on the street, she would have pegged him for a model, at least, until she saw the careful way he moved. Sakura takes a step back, getting out of reach, and keeps the gun held at his head.
"I don't want blood on my carpet." She brings up her other hand to steady the weapon, ignoring the way her knees are shaking. "So I'm hoping you're smart enough to figure out the question I want answered."
"Whether or not I've noticed that you're not wearing a bra?" His smile is blade-thin. "Kinda have. It's a little obvious, un."
She doesn't cross her arms over her chest. "Wrong answer."
"You can't kill me. Not without driving yourself out of the apartment." He's taller than she is, and they both know it. He could slap the gun out of her hands right now and kill her with it, and nobody would ever really be the wiser.
"But you can't kill me either."
"I know." He sighs. "It's frustrating. Taichou's going to be so angry with me."
Taichou. "I didn't think the Sekkaigan family had anything to do with mine."
His eyes sharpen, but he says nothing. Sakura hesitates; then she takes another step back, and lowers the gun. "Get out of here."
"You crazy, little girl?"
"I don't want to kill anyone, I said. I meant it. Leave the gun," she adds, raising her own when he goes for the weapon on the bed. "Leave it and get out."
Pause. "Why?"
"Because I turned my back on my family for a reason." She jerks her head towards the window. "Get the fuck out of here and don't come back. I don't want to ever see or hear anything from you stone bastards ever again."
There's an instant when his eyes meet hers, and she feels it in her gut. The panic. The envy. He wants what she has. The freedom to get a cup of coffee from the place down the road without worrying if there's a bullet trained on her head. The way she can go to her job in the bookstore and flirt with the customers and jibe Shino for the fact that he wears sunglasses inside and not be afraid that he'll crack her fingers for it. Her heart pounds, and every other beat is a realization.
He's halfway out the window when she says, "Do you even know my name?"
He crouches on the windowsill, like a cat. "No."
"Sakura." She says, and she doesn't know why. She lowers the gun. "I'm Sakura."
She sees a smile through the dark, a flash of white. "Deidara."
And then he's gone, and there isn't even an imprint on the floor to show that he was ever there at all.
The gun with the silencer lays forgotten on her bed.
A/N.
So, I couldn't help writing this. I had an image that was stuck too strongly in my brain to resist it. I happen to love Deidara, and I was so pissed off when he died that I almost broke a coffee mug. (No, seriously. I almost threw it at the wall.)
I don't know if I'll continue this. I may, however. I'll let you know. ;)
