Pairing: KakuSaku (KakuzuxSakura) (Age 37 and 25 respectively) (Of course I'd choose one of the rarest crack!pairs…)
Universe: Modern AU
Synopsis: Inside the raining city of Amegakure, people go about their day to day lives. Rainy days, heavy traffic, and the occasional murder of an Akatsuki traitor – indeed, things have been going quite normal. Kakuzu, the best heart surgeon in the city, has been doing just that. Going about his days as normal. Beat by beat. Until another beat somehow weaved itself in.
Rating: M for Mature Themes, Violence, and Gore
This is my first FanFic in quite a while, so please let me know what you think! I'm still trying to get a feel of the characters again, so be patient with me as I step back into place.
Feedback and concerns are appreciated! Haters are deleted and blocked!
Cold.
That was the first thing that came to mind.
In this city, colored by shades of grey, rain had occurred much too often to be considered normal to outsiders. Yet, to those who lived and breathed in these streets, it was home. Every person made a habit of having at least one or two umbrellas on hand – the chance of rain was more often absolute than not. So, in its own way, there was color splotched within the grey. Yellows and blues, sometimes even elaborate patterns, decorated the streets like flowers flourishing to meet the rain.
A cluster of people waited at the crosswalk, their umbrellas bumping against one another every now and again as they shifted. Impatient. It was in the early morning, during the time where every busybody in the city raced to their jobs. From the highest paid salaryman to the smallest retail associate, they all desperately tried to rush ahead of one another.
Within that cluster was a peculiar individual. He exhaled slowly, the sound of exasperation muffled behind the black surgical mask. The hood of his long coat hung over his head, casting a shadow over his green eyes – dulled with boredom and irritation – and kept him dry. If it wasn't his looks and demeanor that made him the odd one of the flock, it was his stature. He was tall, around six foot, which had him easily dwarfing those around him. His body build was, by no means, lanky but seemed quite built from what could be determined with his outerwear. To say that he was a little intimidating would be an amazing understatement.
The crosswalk sign flashed green and, like a wave, the crowd made its way across the street. Hurried steps were outpaced by long strides, the hooded man making his way ahead of the pack. The stroll down the streets were just the same, left and right. Shoving past people, ignoring those that asked for spare change or preach about the environment. They were all met with the same result; a hard, quiet stare that would make the strongest man cower.
Ten minutes had passed, and he found himself walking up the steps to the local hospital. As he sought refuge beneath the awning, he rid himself of the coat, shaking out the still dripping water before he entered. Without the outerwear to obscure his build, it was revealed that he was nicely dressed, though plain and professional; black dress shirt, black slacks, nothing out of the ordinary sans the surgical mask. Dark hair, which previously brushed against his shoulders, was being pulled up into a mid-high ponytail.
"You're early, Dr. Kakuzu." Came the startled voice of a woman.
His eyes drifted to the reception desk where the secretary observed safely. The woman flinched under his gaze, instinctively holding up an empty clipboard as though to shield herself. Swallowing, she stuttered out her next words.
"The new girl won't be arriving until another fifth teen minutes or so—"
"Phone me when she arrives."
The order was curt, spoken in a rumbling baritone. It elicited a terrified squeak and a quickly spoken 'yes, sir' as he turned and made way down the hall.
As he walked, his eyes took a gander at his surroundings. The same white walls. Same coworkers that performed beneath him. The only slight variation were the patients that would be in tow. Wheelchairs, stretchers. From handicaps to the sickly. Faces changed, but the symptoms did not. Despite what people may think, it was quite monotonous. Some would find the doctor or nurse profession exciting; an emergency every other day, meeting different people with different cases. Yet, he begged to differ.
When you've been at it for a while, even the most exciting of incidents became rinse and repeat. A man is suffering from shrapnel; so you put him under and pick out the pieces. A woman is over intoxicated; so you prepare the procedure to detox her. A young girl is suffering from an asthma attack; so you push the idiots out of the way and perform CPR properly before they get a chance to crush her ribcage. A boy needs a heart transplant; so they turn to their top cardiovascular surgeon.
That surgeon was Kakuzu.
A heavy sigh raked through him as he stopped in front of his office door, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. Years of little sleep shadowed his eyes, subtle lines from stress creasing his features. The surgeon had gotten used to the constant day to days. He checked in, fixed whatever needed to be fixed, and checked out – ignoring all off the words of praise and admiration. Such positivity would be gone the next day and everyone would be cowering under his shadow. Not that he cared, he preferred it this way. There was no need to be lavished in attention, put in the constant spotlight. As long as he came in and got paid, that was enough.
"Good evening, Kakuzu."
The door had not been opened even halfway when he was addressed. He turned slightly, watching a younger man approach him. The other was short with a fair complexion, which contrasted greatly with his messy, red hair. Despite how young he looked, his hazel eyes spoke years of wisdom and knowledge. And an aggravating amount of smugness.
"Sasori." He regarded him roughly, opening the door the rest of the way.
Akasuna Sasori was a prodigy of sorts, having enrolled at a young age with near perfect grades and scores. Soon after his graduation, he had become a Forensic Toxicologist. Due to this, the surgeon had come to expect visits from Sasori quite often – whether it be inquiries, collecting samples, or simply to say 'hello'. They weren't the best of friends, but they tolerated each other well enough to have civil conversation.
"What are you here for this time?" Kakuzu questioned, inviting the toxicologist into his office with a simple wave of his hand.
The room was as plain as the rest of the hospital. White walls, white floors. Sleek furniture, with the complimentary plant settled in the corner of the room. Sasori glanced to the stack of papers and files on the desk, musing how meticulously organized they were. It was just like the elder, to make sure every single detail was in its proper place. They were the same in that respect, as their specific expertise required no mistakes. Quite a bit of pressure, one that began to show on Kakuzu over the years, and the redhead could only hope age was merciful and delayed his own stress marks.
"The usual. Rumors say that a mistress poisoned her lover right in the middle of a family diner." Sasori replied easily, making himself home in one of the armchairs. The surgeon rolled his eyes. He didn't remember offering him a seat.
"Isn't that sort of information supposed to be classified?"
"It's rumor, not fact."
"And what do you think about that rumor?"
"Bullshit."
Kakuzu scoffed and settled into his own seat, leaving his drying coat draped over the back of his chair. He picked through the files that were left on his desk. Tachibana; check-up at 11, discussing heart transplant match-ups. Suzuki; follow-up at 2, assessing post-surgery results. Honda; appointment at 5, heart transplant. He sighed – tonight was going to be a long night.
"What part about it is bullshit?" He mused, lingering on a specific file.
"About ninety percent of it," Sasori huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. "A vengeful mistress lied to and thrown under the bus. Judging by acquaintances, she was the emotional sort. Love over logic. Do you think she would be collected enough to think of the whole process of gaining the poison, tracking him to the diner, and tainting his food without alerting him?"
There was a grunt, "I'm guessing not."
"Exactly. She would more likely commit a crime of passion."
"So dramatic soap opera knife shit."
"Mhm." The redhead nodded, leaning his cheek against his knuckles. Kakuzu sneered; the kid was getting comfortable, wasn't he.
"Rumor has it that she was framed." Sasori made sure to add emphasis on 'rumor', as though it didn't count as leaking sensitive speculation to the public. Either way, Sasori didn't seem to care for it. He, as Kakuzu observed, liked to hear himself talk and boast about how clever he was. While it was irritating when drawn out, and sometimes the surgeon would tune him out, at least it kept the redhead from getting on anyone else's nerves. The fact that the toxicologist showed the surgeon respect is the only thing from getting him kicked out of his presence.
"Sounds great."
"It's absolutely fantastic, really. So—"
A ring from the office phone had interrupted the redhead, thankfully. Breathing out another sigh, Kakuzu picked up the phone and answered with a gruff 'hello'. Sasori watched the expressions that flitted across the older man's eyes; exasperation, irritation, then acceptance. The surgeon's little own Three Stages of Grief. Suppressing a chuckle, Sasori let his eyes wander away. No doubt whoever was on the other line was a stuttering mess, which forced Kakuzu to be patient and use all the restraint he had to not bark at them.
"Bring her in, then." The call ended with a 'clack'. "Alright, get out."
"Excuse me."
The surgeon stood from his seat and grabbed Sasori by the back of his collar. His strength easily lifted the smaller male from the chair and began to drag him towards the door. With a fit of irritation, more suitable for a cat, he squirmed and smacked at Kakuzu's arm.
"You brute – this sort of manhandling is completely unnecessary!"
"I'm not willing to let your slow ass walk yourself."
"And why not?"
"You'd take an hour to even reach the door."
"How dare you—" Then the door swung open, and they both froze in place.
Standing there was a vague familiar face, one of the many nurses. But it wasn't them that had the men freeze, but who stood behind the startled figure.
A young woman, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, stood stiffly in her place. No doubt she was shocked to see one man in the process of dragging out another. Her hair was a pale shade of pink, pastel and cut short with the bangs sweeping gently across the upper part of her forehead, just out of her face. Her attire was simple, a white peacoat over a casual, mint dress that matched her eyes. Not dressed for work, but she didn't seem to be here for an appointment.
"Haruno?" The surgeon questioned, squinting at her. At the sudden question, the woman startled out of her small shock and looked up at the tall man. Inside his head, he mused how so much smaller she was that she had to tilt her head almost all the way back to make eye contact.
"Yes, sir!" Haruno breathed out, her posture straightening.
"You're on time. Good." He grunted, then shoved Sasori into the standstill nurse. "Escort him to where he needs to be."
Sasori was quick to wretch himself away from the nurse, disliking the sudden contact with a stranger. He preened himself, putting his vest and tie back into neat order. Shooting a quick glare at the poor nurse, he proceeded to make his way down the hall with the associate sheepishly following behind.
Watching them disappear down the hallway, Kakuzu sighed and gestured for the remaining woman to follow him inside his office. It seemed like his early morning routine, now. Letting people get into his space. With a faint 'Yes, thank you', she complied and stepped inside the office space. She stood in front of the desk, as though waiting for further instruction, and he slowly blinked. Well, at least she had more manners than the toxicologist.
"Sit." He ordered. She did so.
And they sat across from each other; Kakuzu at his desk and Haruno in the armchair. If it weren't for the pristine setting, one would think he was interrogating the woman. Well, interviews were like an interrogation, wasn't it? And he would be the right man for the job.
"Introduce yourself."
"Yes, sir." She nodded, placing a resume upon his desk and carefully pushing it towards him. It was an unneeded gesture, as he already had the information previously submitted in his hands, but he supposed it was the sort of show most companies required these days. He took the paper in hand and let her speak.
"I'm Haruno Sakura, graduate of Konoha's Medical Education Institute. While I am fresh out of Med. School, I was top of my class and would be more than grateful to be under your guidance."
Sakura was well-spoken, he mused. She must have been raised in a good environment, surrounded by good influence. So far, so good. A curt nod signaled his current approval, which made her shoulders lax just a bit, he noticed.
"You realize you are applying to be my assistant," He stated, leaning on his elbows, fingers interlaced with one another. "Such a position should not be taken lightly, no matter your grades. You will have to steel yourself for seeing the worst of the worst – and handling it with the proper steps and procedures. You lack experience. How are you going to make up for that?"
There was a brief pause, his eyes boring down on the small figure. At first, he thought of ending the interview now. No sense in accepting a fresh sprout. The time it took to train someone, to work through their clumsiness as they tried to fit into the unexpectedly high expectations. He had no patience for that sort of thing. He preferred someone who already knew their stuff, already got their hands bloody. No nonsense, no effort. In and out.
Yet, when those jade eyes dared to meet his own, those thoughts diminished. In them were a fierce fire, a determination. Oh, this one wasn't going to back down. He couldn't tell whether or not if he wanted to stoke that flame, or smother it out.
"With all due respect, sir, I will never gain the experience if no one gives me a chance." She spoke with such sureness in her tone, her expression stern. "And I believe that no one else will be able to mentor me like you can. So, I insist, please allow me to be your assistant."
His lips turned into a frown beneath his mask. What a stubborn one. It was the sort of stubbornness that he could commend her for, however. His eyes glanced down at the information before him.
'Under the recommendation of Senju Tsunade'…
A deep sigh left him. How many times did he sigh today? Perhaps one too many by this point, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. It seemed that Lady Luck was on Haruno's side. For she was the only eligible candidate in his picky eyes, and he didn't care to continue his search for another assistant. The woman met the qualifications, had good references and, judging from how little they've spoken so far, she had a stable mentality. This was as good as it was ever going to get. He opened the interview packet and brought out a pen.
"Let's get the formality papers out of the way, then." He saw her eyes brighten.
"Then…?"
"Hope you got time to sign until your fingers fall off."
Unnecessary Preview:
"I can't believe I'm agreeing, but you do need to get laid, hm."
"You, shut up."
"Come on, man! You gotta fuck at least once before your dick rots with your personality."
"And you, just get the hell out."
"The fuck – this is a public club, Stitches."
"Don't care. Out."