Night's Own
Chapter One

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It was dark.

Not the cool, peaceful dark of slumber, not even the endless inky blackness of a new moon.

It was dark: a deep, stuffy dark with black tendril hands slowly pulling her into its depths.

Flailing frantic fingers all around her, her throat tightened as she struggled to gasp. No welcoming rush of sweet air made its way to her weakening lungs. Instead, she was met with a wall of black silence, the cold horrifying silence of endless sleep, the silence after the last breath and the last, wavering heartbeat.

It was the silence of death.

Still, she struggled, straining against her bonds, shaking her head desperately, strands of rose-colored hair waving around her paling face. She tried to moan.

It was useless, she knew. She had no chakra left, let alone physical strength. Death was merely waiting; standing still in the shadows, ready to claim what was already his. The pain, itself, was unbearable, but still, she struggled. She fought, writhing, as death slowly dragged her from the white fingers of life.

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The man stared unblinkingly with a dark black gaze at the motionless figure slumped, limp, in her bonds. He bent down slowly, taking her thin wrist gently in strong, pale fingers. There was no response.

He straightened slowly, eyes flicking around his surroundings; mouth a thin, unwavering line. It was a cold room, lifeless and gray, with an indescribable chill soaked into the hard, stone walls. He memorized it, eyes roving over every detail. He would not forget. She had died here, in this room, struggling as these cold walls stared with their unforgiving gaze.

Rage inched its way into his frozen heart, its flame flickering brightly, but his face held no emotion. He had been trained to be an unfeeling killer; even if his face had betrayed his anger, it would have been unseen, for a pale, almost comical animal mask shielded his delicate features from view.

In an instant, the air changed, and a soft wind whistled quietly as a bright blur of color appeared at his side, revealing itself to be a lean, neatly muscled man. Gleaming blue eyes took in the scene quickly and grimly. An eyelid flickered, the only sign of the outrage now pumping through angry veins.

A shock of bright yellow hair fell in the newcomer's face, spiked and tipped at the ends. Three diagonal lines raked themselves across his healthy tanned cheeks. His bright blue eyes shone with emotion, switching from rage, shock, disgust, and lastly, regret.

"Sasuke?" he said softly.

There was no reply. A cool silence filled the stone room, concealing unspoken words.

Finally, in a curt, cold, voice, Sasuke replied, "Look around. If you can't read the story, then you are not ninja."

"Sasuke…"

"Naruto, she's dead. She was captured. She was tortured. That is all."

Naruto watched, eyes narrowed, as Sasuke seemed to melt into shadow. His forehead wrinkled in concern. Mouth opening, he made as if to speak and his feet moved a few steps as if to follow, but he stopped and merely gazed, a corner of his mouth twisted, as his friend ran away.

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Sasuke raced through the trees, a solitary black breeze. Air whipped his dark hair from his face, causing the shining path of a tear to go awry. Sorrow and fury battled for dominance in his mind, clashing again and again. For a split second, he grimaced in pain before resuming his stoic, emotionless mask.

'Sakura…'

He thought of the girl's lively green gaze and her quick, wide smile, of the way the sun would shine off her pink hair, causing a rosy halo to encircle her face. He remembered laughs and warm hugs. He remembered soft fingers against his cheek.

He blinked back tears and wondered at his self-control.

Sakura, one of the few that he trusted, was dead. One of the first people to open up to him, to really welcome him as a friend, was ripped out of his life violently and suddenly without any warning. Death was a common side-effect to shinobi life, but in this instance, he had been caught unawares.

It didn't seem fair. He couldn't explain this feeling, this unfairness, but it was there, lingering in the back of his mind, in the sour taste in his mouth. No matter how much he tried to shove it out, how much he tried to close it off, it somehow slipped its way subtly back into his mind.

A question formed, silent, unsaid, on his lips.

'Why…?'

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Naruto sighed, plunking himself down in front of Sakura's limp form. Moving with practiced ease, he slid off the thin blindfold wrapped around her lifeless cheeks. He flicked her eyelids, looking at empty green eyes. Slowly, he inspected her thoroughly, running his hands carefully over arms, neck, and legs.

Removing his hands with a slight jerk, he fumbled with his vest before drawing out a small, battered green notebook. Lightly licking the end of a tiny pencil dwarfed in his large, rough hands, he scribbled furiously, whipping the pages in a small, white storm, filling pages with his untidy scrawl.

Cause of Death: Slow compression of the lungs and strangulation.

Time of Death: 5:45 PM

Location of Death: Sound Country. Cave near creek. Room used before.

Damage to Body: Pressure points used, no visible bruises, brain damage. Mind magic. Common Sound torture methods used. (See medical-nin guide)

Current State: clothing, accessories still intact. Hitai-ate still secure, bracelet on left wrist, hair neat.

Finders: ANBU captain, Uchiha Sasuke, and elite jounin, Uzumaki Naruto, aged 21.

Dead Ninja: Haruno Sakura, chuunin, aged 21.

Uchiha may suffer from psychological damage. Therapy recommended. New medical ninja needed for cell block 7. May require a day of rest.

Naruto paused, pen going still. He bit his lip in worry. Who could give therapy to Sasuke? What would he do with a day's rest? He hesitated, pencil hovering over that last entry, ready to scribble it out ferociously.

His shoulders became motionless and tense as he stared at the automatic response he had written for Sakura, pencil motionless in his hand. He had done other death reports, but none from his own cell. It was…different. It was raw, fresh, and painful, like a deep gash slowly becoming infected. He looked at Sakura. The tears he had been stuffing inside of himself rose to the corners of his eyes, making them burn and water. The pain he had been keeping away clenched his chest and tightened his throat.

Quietly, very quietly, so softly that no one could hear, he let himself weep.

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Sasuke walked into the Hokage's office, walking in quick, long strides, shoulders stiff and set formidably. He moved fluidly, seeming one with air and shadow. His ANBU mask was firmly in place and every weapon and hair was in immaculate order. There was a deadly aura surrounding him.

At almost the same time, Naruto bound in, eyes baring the tiniest hint of redness. His hair was the slightest bit frumpy and his vest had the lightest trace of wrinkles, but, other than that, he had all the appearance of a normal reporting jounin. His long legs covered the distance quickly, helping him move with a sort of feral grace. He, too, glimmered with a deadly aura.

Tsunade looked grimly at the two young men, each distinctly distressed. Her fingers were linked together, supporting her chin as she leaned on her elbows in a thoughtful silence. She regarded them suspiciously for a few moments before opening her mouth to speak.

"Report," she said softly, voice gentle.

Naruto replied stiffly, "Missing ninja found dead."

"Cause?"

"Torture by strangulation."

"By whom?"

"Sound Country jounin."

There was a small pause before the last question.

"Name of ninja?"

"…Haruno Sakura."