Standard disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, Naruto, or any of the lyrics I may use.
Beta: Girl-Chama.
HEARTLINES
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1
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Drumming Noise
Her heels echoed loudly on the hard floor. In her line of work, such a resounding noise would have left her out of a job, most likely killed, struck down for either her arrogance - at best - or for her ignorance. But, she was well-versed in intimidation and its very valuable psychological aspects. Sakura carefully measured her steps, strong enough to emit a cool confidence, yet slow enough to yield a false nonchalance. Of course, it did not help that her proprietor was flighty - something that had been brought to her attention at her first - and silent - approach of the employing man. For someone who hired ninja he was without a doubt myopic about their capabilities. He had been definitely frazzled by her sudden emergence from the shadows, but then again, she had not come in contact with anyone else who did not hold some smidge of paranoia while under the radar. A few others who operated underground she had had the chance of meeting hid it well, behind stoic facades or irrational smirks; the latter evidence of one succumbing to neurosis and turning, for lack of a better word, insane. She hid it behind the former, but she felt it, scratching at her skin, writhing in her belly, wringing her throat, gripping her organs - always flickering underneath.
The corridor was poorly lit, illuminated only by the shifting shades of gray. In the darker corners faint scrabbling sounds could be heard, fraying her nerves even further. Her gut screamed at her to flee this place and never come back.
But she had come back - many times. The inevitable lightening of her wallet spoke of her need.
Sakura was glad for the lack of clear lighting, however; there were most likely things she would rather not witness hidden in the shadows. Her gaze remained straight ahead where a hunched figure swiveled in her direction. A few more steps and she would be free of this burden; her arm was starting to protest at the load it was dragging behind her.
"Very good, nin-san," praised the man, his flitting eyes alighting on the mark before staring pointedly at her covered face. His regrettably curious gaze picked at the folds of her scarf and hood, hoping to find something more visible than just her muted green eyes.
Her spine twitched but she resisted the urge to straighten, merely narrowing and freezing her eyes in a chilling and warning glare. She dropped the body, her hand stiff from clenching so tightly and dragging the weight. Sakura hardened herself to the crack as the head of the body hit the bare cold floor. She extended her cramped hand, empty palm facing up, prompting fingers twitching.
She watched as he pursed his cracked gray lips in disappointment of her lack of verbal communication before taking his sweet time to count out the bounty. The sound of the money moving against itself was suddenly the only noise in the stale air. She was sure that hers was not the only pair of eyes within the illicit structure to be on the man's knurled hand. A gleam flashed in his eyes and he paused in the transaction.
With clenched teeth, she abstained from snatching the money and waited with wavering patience. Shifting ever so slightly, she felt the cold, comforting kiss of a blade against the skin of her leg in her boot; the smooth inked paper of explosion tags up her sleeves; the straight spines of the poison-tipped senbon tucked behind her ear.
"Why don't you take a larger bounty, nin-san?" inquired the commissioner. "I have several high-ranked heads lined up. You haven't failed so far - "
Behind her scarf, her mouth - already a flat line - tightened into a bloodless crease. "No," she answered curtly, now no longer making her want for the money subtle.
He turned suspicious, and it did not go unnoticed by her. She swiftly lifted her bounty from the man's idle hand and turned away, heading into the shadows that would hide her from the commissioner's wary stare. Thankfully, her mark decided to regain consciousness at that time - judging by the pained groans and slow movements that drew the commissioner's attention from her - and she slipped away.
Her wallet was now pleasantly distended, but her belly was still empty. More importantly, her throat was dry. She tugged her scarf from her face to rest at her collarbones and wet her lips in anticipation. Her hood remained raised, though, as she travelled alongside a main road to a nearby town.
Rotating her sore wrist, Sakura frowned as she thought over the proprietor's offer. It was certainly logical to go for the larger bounties, that way she could limit her trips to the commission house. The more time she spent in that place, the more likely she could get reported. So far, no one was discernibly tracking her, but that did not mean someone could not let it slip that she was in the Land of Waves in offhand conversation. After all, pink hair was uncommon and definitely memorable.
While the prospect of more money and less time in the commissioner's company was appealing, the reality of it was discouraging. The chances of her actually succeeding in taking in someone with a heavy bounty on his or her head were very slim; the chances of her surviving even slimmer. Higher-profiled targets were much more skilled than the marks she purposefully chose. The greater the skill the greater the price due to the risk involved. She knew that many bounty hunters went the route of more money, thus few went for the lower bounties that usually consisted of targets that could be taken in without the assistance of chakra. She could not afford to get greedy and risk confronting an exceptional opponent.
Keeping a hand on her hood to ensure it would not fall, she tipped her head back to survey the dark sky, cobalt blue tinged with the brown-purple of pollution. It was night, and the faint imprint of the moon had reached its zenith already and was currently sinking toward the horizon. She quickened her pace, hoping to find a bar still selling in the town. Then, Sakura snorted - she was in a port, of course there would be alcohol.
Sakura slipped through the outskirts of the port town, the stiff salty breeze of the ocean growing stronger as it struck her face with each quiet step closer to the shore. Patience had never been among her strengths. It was there, yes, but her short-fused temper flared too often and dwarfed everything else in its jumping shadow.
Rowdy laughter almost made her jump - her hand, too, she realized as she peeled her fingers from steel. A crew of pirates spilled out into the street to leave, and they were not the only thing spilling; the smell of rum hit her nose. The Ugly Bastard, so eloquently worded, christened the nearby bar. The doorway was framed asymmetrically by one drunkard slumped over on one side while on the other side was another drunkard doing his best to stay on his feet.
Sakura watched a small gaggle of dirty children cloister around the sleeping drunk after the departure of the hiccupping and swaying pirates. Grimy fingers poked and prodded at the folds in the unconscious man's stained clothing, fumbling in empty and hole-ridden pockets for any telltale jingle of a possible meal to fill their owners' vociferating bellies, shrunken with hunger.
Her own hand cradling the curving bottom of her collected bounty money, she sighed inwardly; she could afford to drop a handful of ryō. At the slightly panicked sound of the destitute children's squabbling at the complete lack of money on the drunkard - probably all spent on alcohol - Sakura listlessly cursed her bleeding heart - for she really needed to harden it by now. But ... maybe this one last time...
Sakura deviated from her path through the tavern's door and approached the group of squabbling children, the hem of her cloak swirling gently around her thighs. They stilled at her obscure form, their stark gazes focusing on her, their stringy limbs bracing for her. A few of the more cautious ones began inching their way away from her; others shrinking from the billowing shape of her shadow.
A slide and a hefty thump startled them all - she as well, though she hid it much better. Her gaze momentarily flicked to the now recumbent drinker blocking the threshold of the bar with his prone body. Fighting the puerile urge to roll her eyes, Sakura briefly turned her attention back to the distressed kids.
The hunger shone in each child's disquieted gaze - the only snatch of illumination within dimmed desolation. It gleamed falsely and harshly like the mysterious kitsune-bi Sakura had witnessed while drifting through the Land of Swamps. She blinked suddenly, rapidly, and averted her eyes before angling her body away from the children. She flung her hand in her wake, the earned coins falling behind her onto the previously searched drunk where she heard the frantic scrabbling and the cries of bewilderment.
Sakura did not dare look over her shoulder but instead resumed her course to The Ugly Bastard, stepping over the other drunk lying in front of the tavern's threshold, ignoring the lush's blundering hand for her attention and his inebriated muttering.
The inside of the tavern was a mess, all signs characteristic of a bacchanalia complete with shards of glass in sporadic pools of liquor, scattered scraps of food, and a couple of seriously affronted women. The bartender - a normally jubilant man judging by the laugh lines etched near his now scowling mouth - flicked gnawed pieces of meat off the counter in a surly manner at the rear of the establishment.
"Bleedin' pirates," Sakura heard him curse under his breath before slapping a damp rag onto the wooden surface and scrubbing. "... Last time I serve 'em glass."
The glass crunched under her boots, alerting the man to Sakura's presence. She swiped at the shattered remains of a mug off a seat with the back of her hand, the glass tinkling lightly as the riveted metal of her bracer met the shards. She then slid gingerly onto the barstool, perching her leaned frame on the edge of the seat.
"Anything left?" she inquired softly, noting the non-lecherous way the man appraised her.
The bartender simply shrugged, "Enough for you, onēsan."
Sakura mentally scoffed at his words, knowing that even if the tap had been full it would not have been enough for her. It was more than her throat that thirsted for the numbing oblivion that alcohol brought. She shifted restlessly - in the process of un-crossing and crossing her legs when she froze.
There - on the edge of her awareness, so stretched - was an approaching chakra signature, very powerful and very fast. She probably could have put a name and face to such a recognizable force if she had taken the time; however, she had no time to do such a time-consuming act.
Perhaps it was her instability that augmented the sensations but Sakura could feel the attention honed on her like tunnel-vision, the overwhelming pressure that was crushing her lungs and closing her throat. Her heart threw itself painfully at her ribcage until Sakura was sure the bones were leaving indents on the cardiac muscle. Her pocket felt suddenly hot and heavy at the same time, where she knew a piece of engraved metal on a narrow cloth lay stuffed.
"Wait ..." She raised a hand to accompany her voice, and the man paused in the act of tipping the bottle. "I'll take it to go," she eventually continued, but mentally cringing at the way her words fluctuate.
"... 'to go'?" parroted the bartender, his brows pulling together in confusion. "We don't do 'to go', onēsan - "
She slapped her fistful of money down on the much-abused counter, ryō crashing. "For your extra troubles then," she snarled at him.
Incredibly disturbed and frightened by her sudden change of mood, the man quickly shoved the bottle to her impatient - and trembling - hands.
Sakura knew it was not right for her to take her anger out at the poor man but after so long, her paranoia maltreated this certain emotional outlet and lashed out, unrestrained. Her nerves jumped at the chance to be expressed, and her body subsequently snapped into action. Sakura tucked the rum bottle away and sprinted out of the bar, leaping over the drunk from before.
Dawn was coming. The eastern sky paled as herald of the light of the sun. Rosy hues were thrown up onto the cool canvas of the receding night. Sakura's frame quivered acutely as she surveyed the rising warmth. She swiveled her head to the left, where the shadows were long and offered solace from the light.
She could not outrun the sun - no, not by a longshot - but she could try to make it to the mainland and lose her follower. She could hide out in a safehouse for a few weeks, and then find someone crazy enough to take her to the Land of Whirlpools - she would not be tailed to such a deserted location, right? Or the Land of Iron where she could slip amongst the samurai...
It was no use, Sakura was coming to believe, as her lungs rattled and her legs wobbled with each bound she pushed herself to take. If only her brain could run for her - she would be halfway across the Land of Wind by now. But she was still on the island of the Land of Waves with a nin able to outstrip her on her heels. Adrenaline only got one so far, and this far happened to be the western coastline. The Great Naruto Bridge was within her sight, but it went on for miles before connecting to the Land of Fire on the other side.
She gritted her teeth, her breath hissing as her chest heaved. Her options were paltry and pathetic, so when her foot hit the wooden planks of the bridge, she threw her body into a violent twist and planted herself into a fighting stance. She vaguely registered that she must be a sight with her eyes rolling crazily in the sockets, with her sweaty hair threatening to fall from the bun, with her cramping legs coming close to buckling under her weight. Despite this, Sakura remained resolute as she waited to face her pursuer. In a worst-case scenario, she could detonate explosive tags and destroy this end of the bridge. However, that would mean she would be leaving thousands of people without a quick route to the mainland.
Had she really become so selfish to place her personal safety above many others? She could not be captured; she refused to be taken back to Konoha. Regardless of what punishments awaited her for leaving, she did not want to return to what was waiting for her. There were reasons as to why she left in the first place, so she would confront her pursuer and fight like hell. But, if push came to shove ... a paper tag crinkled in her clenched fist.
.::|::.
From a crouched and cloaked form, an arm stretched out, and gloved fingers gently traced one shoe imprint out of many. To anyone else, it would have seemed random, given the multiplicity of foot traffic that went through this point in front of a less-than-credible drinking establishment crassly named The Ugly Bastard.
But to this specific person, this specific imprint confirmed everything. A single impression of a heel of a high-heeled boot, smeared in a wide curve, indicating the motion of turning sharply to the west.
A self-satisfied smirk curled upon a cold face, and he straightened, spine stretching to a near-impossible ramrod line. Sakura was getting sloppier the longer she remained a rogue; the woman was certainly able to successfully remove all traces of her scent, making it futile to utilize any ninken or Inuzuka; it was to be expected though, considering the kunoichi's former teacher Hatake Kakashi. Through means he could only speculate, even Aburame clansmen could not descry the slightest sampling of her chakra or pattern of her presence. For those reasons, the tracking was left to him. Off the books, of course. He reasoned that he had accumulated enough hours to take some time off and spend it searching for a kunoichi who could not be found.
It was extraordinary as to how long Sakura had actually eluded detection; truly genius as to what lengths the woman had went to in order to disappear. He would admit that she originally had him - of all people! - stumped. But now that he had figured out her technique, Sakura could not escape his omnipresent gaze.
Ignoring the drunk slovens groveling in the dirt, the shinobi's mouth quickly turned into a grim line of determination. He would find the vexatious woman, even if said woman was fleeing from him in vain. Sakura could carom across the Shinobi Countries, but he would always find her. Every technique had a flaw, and he had found hers.
.::|::.
author's notes: welcome to the first chapter of Heartlines. Review... Please. Tell me what you think; what you want to see; what you do not want to see; your expectations; your thoughts; your feelings ... yeah, tell me everything.