TW: Gore, violence, death.
There are a million things going through Sakura's head as she points her saber out. Paramount among them is that she has no business holding a sword in her condition, the thought punctuated by another vicious tailspin of her vision. Her head throbs dully at her temples, nausea and exhaustion thick at her throat. She can feel her arm tremble slightly under the weight of its burden, but she has no choice in her mind. She walked out of a dining hall full of unconscious faces for some fresh air and stepped into a kidnapping-in-progress. She is in no condition to fight, but she's the only one here who can.
"Put the rag down, Kabuto. I won't ask again," she warns with a growl.
She glances at the dark bottle that rolls and lists across the boat deck. If she hadn't already known that the chemical was mandated by the apothecary guild to be stored in distinctive dark bottles, the cloyingly-sweet smell that undercuts the smell of brine confirms her suspicions: chloroform.
She would've never guessed it to be a merfolk tranquilizer, but it seems to be doing the job well enough. Even as Kakashi struggles against the spectacled man, the splash of his thick tail is much less violent than usual and his eyelids flutter sporadically to stay awake.
It's still enough to draw grunts from Kabuto though as he struggles to keep a hold on his quarry, one arm crushing Kakashi's torso against his while his other forearm catches under the mershark's chin.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, my pink-haired captain. However, I'd prefer to handle this without bloodshed." Despite his pleasant tone, Sakura reads the viper in his smile. He could've killed the entire ship tonight, but merely knocked them out-with what, she doesn't know. Shizune is probably trying to figure that out right now—but wasn't that benevolent of him to spare them all? Shouldn't he be owed a boon for his generosity?
As if to add sway to his argument, he adds, "My real employer is desperate to have this specimen for his collection. If you are willing to negotiate, he is willing to pay a handsome price."
The offer sickens her even more than whatever he spiked her draught with. She'd only taken a sip before she noticed something was wrong and she felt sleep overtake her, but she thinks of the others who guzzled the spread Kabuto had prepared for them all. Payment for taking him aboard their crew. Tastes from his homeland, he had said—neglecting to mention that he was a thankless snake willing to poison her crew.
Other than Chouji who always ate as if famine stalked around every corner, Naruto probably got the worst of it, having guzzled a full pint of the drink he had prepared for the crew. The thin streak of resentment that lances through her makes it hard for her to feel any pity for her first mate though. It was Naruto who had brought this reptile aboard and hired him at the bar despite the protests of everyone else at the table because he "liked the guy's face, and he seemed strong enough, and we could use the extra help."
She was being unfairly harsh, she knew. Part of this was her fault too. Even if she had been distracted by Iruka's departure from their crew or her reunion with Shizune at port that led to her traveling with them for a week, at the end of the day, Sakura was still captain. It was her job to verify all the hires—even if she hadn't been aware of their stowaway until Naruto brought him to her when they were well away from shore. She had been too desperate to get a move on, she now realized. Wanted too much to relive old memories with her former mentor and reminisce about Tsunade, who was probably still holed up in a gambling den in the north, now three days away. Wanted too much to run away from the ache of seeing Iruka leave their crew after ten years with a hole in his side for his troubles because he felt too old to stay on. She thought she had stowed it away and dealt with it like a captain should have. Apparently, she hadn't, and she was paying for it now. She would have to teach Naruto not to follow her mistakes. If he really wanted to be captain someday, he needed to be smarter. More responsible, and definitely more choosey about who he let on his crew. His hiring practices left a lot to be desired. She knew he liked to be friendly to everyone he met, but one of these days, it was going to get someone killed.
She was determined that someone wasn't going to be Kakashi.
"Tell your employer that he can suck my cunt."
He narrows his gaze for a fraction of a second. If he had been expecting her refusal, he probably certainly wasn't expecting that.
But the indignation only lasts for a second as he drops his burdens to free his hands. Kakashi hits the deck like a sack of bricks, groaning and breathing heavily as Kabuto steps away from the side of the boat, away from the lifeboat he had been planning to use as a getaway, and places his hand on the sword that they all carried on their person at all times in case of an attack.
"Ah well. I wanted to avoid all this, but this may save me the hassle in the long run," Kabuto purrs, and the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth is her only warning before he charges at her with his sword.
Her arms shake with the force of their first clash and she feels like screaming. Her mind is still slow, her reflexes are still dull. Frustration fills her bones and it helps to sharpen her awareness, but Kabuto's advantage is keenly felt on both sides as she struggles to find an opening. He forces her on the defensive, presses her back further and further in a dance that carries them all around the deck. She is becoming winded, but it is her boat that takes the beating as wood is gashed, smashed, and scarred.
Sakura drops her knees to avoid her head being taken off. She is breathing harshly, regrets not taking off her heavy, cumbersome captain's coat before fighting—but the exercise is helping her metabolize whatever blasted curse is slowing her cells. Her reflexes are coming back slowly but surely, but she needs to land a hit on him if she wants to end this at some point—
The thought is cut short by the oncoming advance of a sword edge. It's too fast to dodge neatly. She has to push off the stairs to avoid the blow, and feels splinters fly off of her where he has blasted a chunk off a once-sturdy staircase. She is impressed despite herself, and Naruto's rambling voice intrudes where it isn't wanted.
"I know he doesn't look like much, but he's strong. I swear!"
He is, she agrees mentally as they lock swords again, warring against each other near the hilts of their swords. He is trying to pin her against a wall so Sakura tries to spin into a more open area, but her damn fucking coat slows her speed and his foot connects with her gut, knocking the wind out of her as she flies backwards. Once again, she curses the coat on her shoulders. If it wasn't passed down to her from Tsunade who had it passed down to her from her pirate grandfather, she'd burn it. But she loves the coat like she loves her mentor.
Another blow hits her, gracing her with a small gash on her sleeve.
Stop getting distracted, she shouts at herself.
But it's hard not to when her senses are stretched so thin. Her eyes keep darting to the door to the dining hall, caught on the silhouette of one of her crew splayed on the wall. Her ears try to track the movements outside the battle. She is trying to figure out if Shizune is treating the unconscious or if she'd found out what happened to the shift crew who was supposed to work through their dinner hour. Tonton is wandering around here somewhere still, which confuses and concerns her, and there's still Kakashi on the ground…
She checks on him out of the corner of her eyes. He is more awake, catches her gaze briefly as he claws his way back to the water-filled basin that will help wet his gills and let him breathe more easily again. Agitation tenses his shoulders. He wants to fight, but literally out of his element, he is acutely aware of his weakness, none more so than when Sakura finds herself pinned to the wall of his container. She is nearly bent double as she struggles against Kabuto, who leans his weight into the sword that almost touches the crown of her head. She braces her feet on Kabuto's hips. She is so close to just launching her foot into his testicles, but if her foot slips now, so does the brace she's using to keep her own sword from slipping into her own neck. The bite of the blade edge into the meat of her hand grinds tenderly, drawing a hissed gasp from her lips. She's sobered up from whatever demon brew she had earlier, but death still presses into her from above.
Kabuto seems to know it too by the gleeful look in his eyes.
The sudden wave of water that slaps Kabuto is as startling and striking as if he'd been hit with a flesh-and-bone hand. Kabuto stumbles back slightly with a splutter and an angry look at his mershark quarry, but it's all the distraction Sakura needs to launch her foot out. She misses her mark—misses the tender flesh of his testes—but her foot lands in the crease where his leg join with his hip, which still makes him fly back with a solid "Oof." She rights herself with the gentle rock of her boat on the waves, smirking as he eyes her with deadly intent. She even crooks a blood-coated finger at him in a cooing invitation. He takes it gladly and she adjusts her footing to deal a murderous strike—
Only to feel the world roll and pull out from under her.
The sound of glass rolling across wood sends fury through her veins as she collides with the crate. Of all the fucking—
Whatever was at the end of that string of curses is cut short by the ringing in her elbows where she has awkwardly caught herself against the crate. The pain ripples through her joints, making her head spin. A voice in her mind shouts for her to get up. That she's open, vulnerable, and desperately needs to MOVE. IT.
But the impact has stolen her breath from her lungs. As she watches Kabuto aim his blade at her throat, she feels cold.
Then she feels macabrely warm.
The spray of blood hits her once, twice in the face and she blinks, stunned at the realization that she isn't dead. Something pokes her in her shoulder, not enough to hurt but still enough to be aware that something is there. There is the thunder of footsteps. A sword pulls through flesh and she feels a hand drag across her chest, heavy, steady, and there until it isn't.
The weight of Kakashi's chest touches her as he tumbles out of the container and into her lap. The boat rocks once with a wave. He spills out by her knees groaning, pale, and shuddering, and her eyes focus on the deep gash that cleaves his shoulder, exploding her world into chaos.
"Kakashi…?" She calls his name as if trying to coax a wounded animal, except she knows that she's the animal trapped wild in a corner, threatened and alarmed. There is too much sound, too much movement around her. Her crew surrounds them in a ring of panic and alarm. Naruto tries to strategize, but it's hard to approach in their sorry state and they wait for an opening to save their friends.
Kabuto is nonplussed by the crowd and flips the rag left on the floor into his hand with his sword, and wipes the blade clean. "Silly girl. You should've just accepted the deal when you had the chance," he sneers.
Her patience burns rather than snaps. She can feel Kakashi's blood soak into her clothes as she stands, and clenches her hand around her sword handle with a steel grip. She wipes the blood on her face with her sleeve and feels it smear like war paint into her cheek.
Wordlessly, she shifts her feet into a fighting stance and leaps into action.
She suppresses all thought. The only thing that drives her is her training and murderous rage. She pours everything into her charge. Steel rings out against steel and sparks fly off from the clash as she channels the muscle memory from under Tsunade's punishing tutelage. She spent hours a day dodging against the crushing blows of her master's sword, beat down again and again with crumbling weak knees from Tsunade's brute strength. She complained only once and was punched overboard into the water for her troubles. It was the only time she begrudged her master, but she learned later to appreciate the training. Felt soft, quaking infirmity bleed out to be replaced by discipline, strength, and speed.
It is this that fuels her angry onslaught. It is impossible for Kabuto to read her attacks. She spins, thrusts, and flies like a madwoman as she drives him back. Two of her crew swoop in as soon as she gives them the space and they drag Kakashi into the care of Shizune who is already barking orders for someone to clear the desk in Sakura's office and get her all the clean rags and alcohol on the boat. His departure into safety only fuels her bloodlust. She is hell-bent on vengeance. The bottle that had been to blame for all of this is swiftly crushed underfoot and ground into powder. She aims to do the same to Kabuto and fantasizes about driving one of her hairpins into the soft space behind his knee.
But she's made an awful mistake and only senses it when it is too late. She has been reckless, unthinking in her fighting. She blindly expended energy when she should've conserved and is paying the price. Frustrated when she had not drawn blood, she threw herself into fighting harder, but the clarity that sobers her makes her acutely aware of the sweat pouring down her face and the trembling in her calves. No longer fueled by blind rage, she is slow, tired, and—as she quickly realizes—is fighting a losing battle.
Sakura jumps back against a slash meant to gut her. It brushes against the opening of her coat, carries the fabric and makes it fly up like a butterfly in flight. Her footwork is getting sloppy, her forms no longer so clean. Her desperation is so apparent, it's laughable, and she dances around the ship's mast like a maypole, desperately trying to ignore the cue to fall down. As she does, she feels the anxious gaze of her crew. They want to sweep in to help, but it's hard in the wild arcing dance of swords to approach.
There is also the matter of the pirate code. The unspoken rule has always been clear: no one interferes in a captain's battle.
They watch in mute horror as Sakura's sword is knocked out of her hand. It sails high in the air, gracefully arcs once, and embeds itself far away near the bow of the boat. Her hand throbs as a painful reminder why, and she is torn between crying at the traitorous rictus that clenches her aching fingers and the relief that floods through her flushed, cramping hand.
It leaves her defenseless though, and she finds herself trapped against a stack of boxes under the mast. The brief moment of fear that flickers over Sakura's eyes makes him smile. "I can't wait to see this ship at the bottom of the ocean," he gloats and draws his arm back for a final devastating blow.
"Sakura!" Naruto shouts. "Heads up!"
Kabuto whips his head up at the sound. He looks around for the sword that will fly towards their fallen captain and waits to bat it out of the air. He is so concerned with looking upwards that he doesn't notice the blunderbuss that skates across the deck floor. But Sakura does, and it only takes a second for her to have it in hand and take Kabuto's legs out from under him. He lands harshly on the floor, breathless and dazed by the impact and Sakura steps over him, one foot at his throat, the other pinning his sword arm to the floor while the muzzle of the blunderbuss stares at him in the face.
Her voice is as distant as the moon. "Surrender."
He leans up against her foot. "Never," he spits and gasps as she grinds her foot more firmly into his wrist, forcing him to let go of his sword.
"That wasn't a request," she says coldly.
And for a second, he stares at her as if considering his options before throwing his head back with a spiteful, bitter laugh. "You think I care about what you have to say to me, you dirty fish-fucking whore—"
The crack of the gunshot slices through the night. The tension is so thick that it feels solid around her. She feels the wary glances of her crew like butterfly kisses on her cheeks but Sakura blindly ignores it to peer through the smoke escaping the muzzle of her gun.
Kabuto's face is a bloody, pulpy smear on her boat. His face had caved on impact, bits of skull, flesh, and brain peppering the deck as well as her face (unavoidable really, at this close distance). Right beneath the cradle of his head, the wood has caved slightly from the force and Sakura purses her lips slightly when she realizes that a tooth and a bit of optical nerve clings to the toe of her boot. She shakes it off in distaste and lets her firing arm fall at her side, finally able to relax.
"Someone patch the hole in my deck—and get this garbage off my boat!" she barks and kicks Kabuto's corpse once for good measure before stepping towards her office to check and fret over Kakashi's condition, the blood still drying on her face.