Summary: When her eyes fall on him, taking in his condition, something terrifying flashes across her features. Sasuke knows, in that moment, that if his insides weren't hanging out of his body, if she didn't need to stabilise him as soon as possible, Sakura's own oath to heal would mean nothing. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 5 – Prompt: "Saving Her Man"]
Disclaimer: This story utilises characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelisations, comics or short stories is intended by KuriQuinn in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All plot and Original Characters except for those introduced in the canon books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn. (© KuriQuinn 2016- )
Rating: M
Warning: Spoilers for pretty much everything up to Chapter 699. Graphic depictions/descriptions of torture and injury.
Canon-Compliance: As close to canon as fanfiction can possibly be. With a few personal additions :P Takes place during the Blank Period.
Beta Reader: Sakura's Unicorn
It's the all-encompassing, bone-deep agony that draws Sasuke out of unconsciousness.
Pain radiates through his entire body, coming from too many points of origin to narrow down. There's an icy, wrenching ache somewhere below his lungs, but that's only the most noticeable. Sharp, stabbing sensations assault him from everywhere—his nails, the webbing between his fingers and toes, and even his hair follicles. His skin feels stretched and raw, as if it's been flayed from his body and then replaced.
Clearly, something happened to him while he was asleep, but he can't figure out what.
In fact, he's having a hard time organising his thoughts which is a sign of just how serious the situation is. Sasuke orders himself to concentrate, to take in whatever information he has about the situation—but there is nothing.
He can't remember what could have led to this.
There are bits and pieces, images and memory that jumble together in his head, but the pain is making it hard for him to filter. Slowly, he puts some of it in order—
Travelling through Suna. Accepting temporary work to help to rebuild a city wall. A tour of the new hydroponic system that…
Who was it? That mousy girl who follows Gaara around.
Whoever she is, she came up with it and was showing him and—
Wait.
Where's Sakura?
He struggles to free himself and makes a disturbing discovery—although he is aware of his body, mostly because of the amount of pain he is in, he can't control any part of it right now.
He is utterly paralysed.
Something across his chest, wrists, and ankles straps him in place; the burning, twisting discomfort is worse there than in his arms and legs. His neck is immobilised, some device at the back of his head pressing his face forcibly downward so that his chin nearly touches his sternum. It makes breathing hard, exacerbating the clawing, wrenching ache beneath his lungs.
Most troubling of all, though, is that he can't see.
Upon trying to activate his Sharingan to better assess his surroundings, a surge of chakra burns into his retinas, making him curse. Someone has covered his eyes and added a seal; the last time he experienced something like this, he was in prison cell in Konoha.
"Ah. It seems you are awake."
A cold, reedy male voice echoes in the darkness, making Sasuke's stomach leap in surprise. Instantly, a wary sensation rises, like mounting nausea. He's spent his entire life honing his senses, priding himself on his awareness of the world around him. Just how far gone is he that his senses have been so easily fooled?
"I am sure you would prefer to escape into the next life," the flat voice continues, "but I fear we are running according to a more pressing agenda, one which is not relevant to you."
Whoever it is sounds distant, as if speaking from the end of a long tunnel.
There is a creaking sound, like wood shifting, and a rattling jangle he feels he should be able to identify. Something pricks into his arm and Sasuke swears—only a garbled groan escapes his lips.
"Ah, yes. An unfortunate requirement, that. You'll begin to feel its effects in a moment—it's counteracting the adrenaline that was used to revive you. You see, Sasuke Uchiha, you were dead for five whole minutes there. And we can't have that. I can't have that."
Sasuke mouths wordlessly at that, unable to understand what he's being told. It explains why his brain feels so muddled, but…dead?
"If you shuffle off this mortal coil too quickly, we can no longer continue our discourse," the voice goes on, maddeningly calm. "I demand at least three days from you—but given your reputation, and the way even children on the street speak of you, I think it will end up being more like a week."
A week of being tortured to death and constantly revived? Not something he's interested in.
Sasuke inhales slowly, centring himself, trying to discover if there's any part of him that can move. If being subjected twice to his brother's Mangekyō Sharingan has given him anything, it's a remarkable threshold for withstanding torture. Whoever or whatever has reduced him to this state is no novice.
"You're wasting your energies," he is told quietly. "I know better than to take risks with an individual such as you. All the nerves allowing for motor function have been severed and, no doubt, you can feel that the restraints keeping you secure have been sealed and warded. Your pain receptors are perfectly intact, however. I took special care to guarantee that. I assure you, you are completely at my mercy. And with that same assurance, I can tell you that there is very little of it left."
The information is delivered with a clinical certainty, informing Sasuke that his fate is a foregone conclusion.
He grits his teeth—about the only movement he is capable of—fighting the irritating confusion and still cataloguing information. From the precise tone of voice and clinical explanations, he can tell that this is not a run-of-the-mill criminal.
"I understand how confused you must be," the voice continues. "Death does muddle the neurons. Allow me to explain, if only because it will heighten the importance of what comes next." There is sound, someone moving near Sasuke, the rattle of what could be metal or glass. "I intend to catalogue the entire experience, and for it to be the most successful, you must understand what is happening, yes?"
He pauses, as if waiting for some murmur of agreement. Sasuke wouldn't give him the satisfaction, even if he could speak right now.
"You've been subjected to a constant stream of chakra suppressors and tranquilisers since arriving in Suna. Nothing noticeable, of course; just enough to weaken you enough to generate an opportune moment for retrieval. You see, I've discovered that even in this time of peace, when one has the money, people will add anything to a stranger's food."
The images in Sasuke's mind flash to the past few days. Every time he and Sakura had a meal, there was a growing sense that something was not quite right. He thought he was just feeling under the weather, not a thing to bother his wife over when there were people in dire need of her healing. Whatever was put in his system was both untraceable enough for him not to react to it, and slow-acting enough for Sakura not to notice.
Has she been captured, too?
The idea of her trapped somewhere, restrained in the darkness, and in even a quarter of the pain that assaults him now, has him renewing his struggles.
"You truly are attempting the futile," the cold voice says again, the tone bored. "Your chakra levels are completely depleted. Anything you intend to try will be quite impossible."
"Don't…need…chakra."
The words are slurred and barely words at all, but Sasuke has no intention of simply sitting in silence. He will get out of here because the alternative is not an option. He made a promise to Sakura that he would never leave her behind again, and if he must conquer death itself to keep that promise, he will.
His captor doesn't know this and isn't impressed by his bravado.
"I am well aware that you don't need chakra, Sasuke Uchiha. In fact, it's only because of that knowledge that I have deprived myself of the supreme pleasure of ripping you to shreds with my own two hands."
There is promise there, a manic note that Sasuke recognises all to well.
His concern for Sakura retreats to the back of his mind. Right now, he can't do anything about her wellbeing. And, unlike him, if she were dosed with anything, she would've metabolised it immediately and noticed.
He needs to get to safety, and to do that, he needs to know what he's up against.
Whoever this calm-voiced man is, he isn't stupid. Drawing attention to his plans by involving Sakura would've been foolish, and so, he just focussed on Sasuke. As he said before, it was merely a matter of waiting until he was alone, which could've happened at any point when he and his wife dealt with separate errands. Sasuke remembers retreating to their guesthouse, hoping to take a short rest while Sakura finished her rounds at Suna's fledgling mental health clinic.
Presumably, that's when his captor managed to abduct him without anyone noticing.
Which means he is both exemplary when it comes to sedatives and has a shinobi's skills. Jōnin level even. More likely black ops.
But the voice… Despite the coldness, there's a feebleness there. Thin, like someone older, no longer in their prime, probably no longer active.
"The problem with the desire to tear you apart is that, at the core of things, I am not a monster," his captor tells him. "This—what I'm doing—is not for the purposes of making you hurt. Not entirely." Something white hot and scorching flicks at the instep of his foot and Sasuke clamps his jaw shut, trapping the yell that threatens to escape. "If I truly wanted to cause you pain, I would have your lovely wife here with us."
Sasuke growls at this, feeling his chest heave with effort. It doesn't feel right, there's a cold tightness there he isn't used to experiencing when he breathes.
"There are many, many things I could do to her before she died," the man confides in him, not with the pleasure of someone sharing a cherished secret, but with the confidence of someone speaking pure truth. "Given her well-known ability to heal herself, I could make it last for weeks. Perhaps she would curse your name in the end."
Sasuke knows that's impossible, knows his wife is much stronger than that—and there's a reason his captor has apparently made every effort not to gain her attention when abducting him.
But the image the reedy-voiced man is painting is too vivid, and in his drugged state, he is more susceptible to the suggestion.
"Don't…" he attempts, trying to make it sound more like a warning than a plea.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about your pretty blossom. You see, Sasuke Uchiha, I took an oath. One I have never broken. Not until today." He clears his throat, and with a mocking lilt, recites, "I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free."
There is a sound like a chuckle, and then another blistering, hot burn near his feet. Wordless sound sticks in Sasuke's throat, a strangled groan. The smell of burning flesh is so thick he can almost taste it.
"But you're not a man, are you? You are a monster. The one who claws down the innocent, and then imagines he can continue living his life freely and unpunished." The sound of rattling and creaking continues, metal objects being moved around. Then silence. When his captor speaks again, it's with an abrupt change in tone. "Do you love your wife?"
Sasuke blinks at the question, unable to make sense of it immediately.
"Come, come. It's a simple question. I'm hardly asking you for state secrets. And talking to me will give you a chance to recover. You want your chance to escape, don't you?" he asks, and Sasuke can almost hear a smirk in his voice. "Of course you do. You're a legendary hero now—giving in is not something you do. So answer my question. Do you love your wife?"
Sasuke considers not answering. His feelings for Sakura are his own business, and he can barely articulate them to her; there's no reason to admit them to his interrogator. But the voice is correct: he needs time to build up his strength.
He also knows that, if he isn't honest, there will be more pain. He needs to take a calculated risk.
"…yes."
"Good. Yes, very good. And is she everything to you? You very existence would cease if the world was bereft of her existence?"
Sasuke pauses again here. The question is too complex, too thorny to contemplate, even if he didn't have to worry that it might change his captor's mind about somehow going after Sakura. However, a lie won't help him in this case either.
"I…don't know," he says eventually, because it answers the question and approaches his true feelings on the matter.
"Ah. That is an honest answer. Well done," the distant voice says, and there's something like approval there. "Most young couples are so besotted with one another that they believe the world will end without their lover in it. I know I felt that about my wife once. But then, most young couples haven't lost something worse. Something much more precious. Can you guess what that might be, Sasuke Uchiha?"
He remains silent, mind flashing to a vision of that night long ago when he walked through empty, blood-stained streets, his brother smiling at him through the blood, then later through dead eyes as his skin peeled away.
Sasuke's experiences aren't like other young people, but he need not remind his harasser of this.
"No, you wouldn't, would you? You haven't experienced that yet," the man points out coldly. "You haven't felt that terrifying, suffocating bliss upon learning you've created life. You have never held a tiny, fragile body in your hands while it reaches for your face. You have never had a child."
Sasuke tenses, having a sudden, horrible presentiment what this might be about.
"I can't truly describe what it's like. Watching such an innocent soul growing up beneath your watchful eye. The need to protect without stifling. It's much like coaxing a plant to flower, but so much more delicate." There's a sigh, almost wistful. "My boy was so ambitious. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of my family, become a renowned shinobi. Perhaps Kazekage one day. But I knew better. I had seen it all, you see. I had lived it. I knew that kind of life, one without honour, would break him. You know all about living without honour, don't you, Sasuke Uchiha? You turned your back on your own people, your own country, more than once, I hear."
Sasuke narrows his eyes against the blindfold.
"But a father must support his child. And so, I did the best I could, helping him grow strong, but ensuring he was out of harm's way. It pays to be influential, you know. I know the daimyo of this country very well, and he trusts me more than any other." Here there is a bitter, echoing chuckle. "Arrangements were made. And so, my son was sent to Tetsu no Kuni, given the opportunity to apprentice to the samurai force there."
This time, Sasuke's mouth goes dry. There is no more doubt where this is going.
"A peace-keeping force," the man continues. "A force that would never have to deal with the hidden deeds, the uprisings, and skirmishes between the Hidden Villages. Even more so because until then, we were living in peaceful times. Do you see where I'm going with this, Sasuke Uchiha?"
This question is not rhetorical. His captor is awaiting an answer. Sasuke swallows, tries to ensure he doesn't slur his words.
"Your son… He was at the summit."
"Yes. He was. Do you know what happened to him?"
"…"
"Come now. Your intelligence is well-documented. I know you've already worked out what happened to him."
"…He was killed."
"By?"
"By me."
"Exactly." Clinical, deadly calm fills the voice now. "The reports are all the same. How the last surviving member of the Uchiha, a traitor to his own, walked into a peaceful summit and murdered every samurai who tried to stop him."
Regret and guilt barrel through Sasuke, because there's no way to argue or excuse this fact.
"When I heard the news…well, I guess you can imagine something close to it. You lost your entire clan, I hear. But that's still not the same. This is worse. Losing a child, it's…it's like dying, but not being allowed to rest. Imagine being trapped in your own corpse, being forced to make your lungs and heart and brain continue operating. Imagine a piece of your soul torn from you and shredded to pieces before your eyes."
Throughout all of this, Sasuke keeps his mouth shut. He understands apologies and platitudes mean nothing to someone who has lost so much.
"I didn't believe I would ever be able to continue. In fact, it was only the knowledge that the five Kage were seeking out the international criminal who stole my son from me that kept me going. Until…until months later, when the world suddenly made sense! I saw him again…my son. We were reunited, and it was as if he had never died. Do you know how that was possible?"
Sasuke feels sick.
"The Infinite Tsukuyomi."
"Yes. That clever genjutsu your ancestor helped to bring about. I was whole again. I felt as if every agony I had ever experienced was nothing but a dream, a memory from infanthood, completely insubstantial. I had my son, smiling before me, proud and beautiful and alive."
"…"
"And then it was gone. I woke up and my son was gone," the voice says, strained. Sasuke suspects he is fighting back tears here. "It wasn't long afterward that I heard the story. You had released the genjutsu. The monster who killed my son…stole him from me a second time." There's another clatter of sound in front of him, someone picking up something heavy. "Do you understand now, Sasuke Uchiha? Why I am not the monster here?"
Abruptly, the blindfold is pulled away.
The dim, overhead lighting from a lone bulb is like a blinding inferno to Sasuke's retinas. Without his bloodline ability to instantly adapt to the light, his eyes clench shut again, and it's several precious seconds of adjusting before he can see. Even then, it's limited.
His head remains uncomfortably pressed downward. A strange flap of some kind obscures his vision of everything below his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the place on his arm that was pricked earlier and realises that it's connected to something. An IV line which drips an ominous purple solution down a tube and into his veins.
Probably more of the sedative.
His right arm and the stump of his left have been pulled back, forcing him into a spread-eagle position; his entire body is reclined backward. There's a glint of metal that takes him a moment to make out.
Needles and razors have been embedded into his palms and, though he can't see his feet, the general sense of stinging agony there suggests they've faired no better. Judging from the wet burning on the side of his face, neither have his ears.
High ceilings recede into darkness, and the walls are oddly cushioned. It's not like any of the prisons Sasuke's been in during his life, and not as dank or earthen as any of Orochimaru's bases. He thinks he sees rows upon rows of chairs spread out in the distance, almost like an amphitheatre, which makes no sense. In the distance, he also notices a strange opening, a window high above one of the rows of chairs.
Straining his eyes even more to see beyond himself, he notices a dark shape looming closer beside him. It slowly coalesces into a more defined figure, and suddenly, the creaking and rattling he heard before makes sense.
It isn't even human. It's a wooden marionette.
Well, this is most definitely not good.
If he concentrates, and doing so rapidly burns up the tiny flares of chakra he still has left, he can dimly make out the strings holding the wooden mannequin, leading into the distant window.
He's had a wariness about anything vaguely puppet-like since the Chūnin Exam, even if he doesn't have the same history with the things that his wife does. Honestly, they unnerve him, and in terms of effectiveness, his Sharingan is useless against them. That's a problem in and of itself.
Whoever is keeping him captive isn't taking the chance of getting close to him at all.
Worse, however, is the thing beside the puppet, which he immediately wishes he hadn't noticed. It looks like a brazier, and though there's no obvious source heating it, several sharp and unpleasant looking instruments lie within, glowing white-hot. The very air above the scalpels, clamps, and gouges warbles with heat, radiating a dark promise.
As their very plausible purpose hits him, another wave of pain rolls through his body, and Sasuke temporarily loses his ability to block out the sensations. A moan of agony makes its way up his throat, but Sasuke fights it back down.
Focus. Figure him out.
The man controlling the puppet, when he speaks, does so with proper and polite diction. He is clearly educated which suggests a life beyond that of a shinobi. The use of puppets suggests he's from the upper echelons of Suna society because only the very affluent have the resources and time to learn that craft. An advisor to the Kazekage maybe?
But who would risk Gaara's wrath by attacking ambassadors from Konoha during peacetime?
It isn't just an affront to the long-standing political and dynastic alliance between the two villages, either. Sasuke might be respected here because of his friendship with Naruto, but Sakura is the heroine who saved the Kazekage's brother and defeated Sasori of the Red Sand. Gaara and Kankuro would effortlessly crush anyone who caused her a modicum of heartache, and given it's no secret that her heart lies with Sasuke…
Either this person is suicidal, or he has nothing to lose. Or both.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," the man declares, the pitch of his voice lower, as if he is making a confession to Sasuke. "Years, in fact."
The puppet bends over him, joints and appendages rattling, and its fingers adjust something that Sasuke can barely see but realises is sticking out of his chest. A half second later, agony flares up from that sharp, jabbing sensation beneath his ribcage.
Out of reflex, he tries to shake his head, release it from the vice keeping him immobile, but it's fruitless. He hears blood dripping down to the ground and only just manages to clamp down on yet another cry of pain. Tears well in his eyes, his body's reaction to the overwhelming excruciation; there's only so much pain one can train themselves to ignore, and this doesn't fall into that category.
Sound and sight fade out completely for several moments. He doesn't fall back into unconsciousness exactly, but he finds himself mired in a suffocating, gnawing onslaught of pain.
When he comes out of it again, his throat is raw and his lungs constricted.
"That is closer to the reaction I'm looking for," the man says, satisfied, and Sasuke realises he was screaming. "It's better not to bottle these things up, Sasuke Uchiha."
Body wracked with tremors, he tries to take another centring breath to regain control of himself. This time it's much harder. He needs something to distract him, something useful…
His eyes flit around the room, looking for anything that would offer some help, some release, something else to think on.
"Am I boring you?" the man says, and Sasuke pinpoints where his voice is emanating from: the small window above. But it's coming over a loudspeaker of some kind; he realises that otherwise it would get lost in the insulated walls. "Perhaps you need something to hold your attention in the interim. An easily rectified situation."
Something is moving, large and cumbersome by the sound of it. Sasuke clenches his fist, preparing for an assault he won't have the strength to fight off.
Which is why when another puppet manoeuvers a mirror into his line of vision, he is confused.
Until it places it several feet in front of him.
The groan of horror that escapes his throat then is a sound he's never heard himself make, the dying growl of an animal.
His entire chest has been opened up and he is staring at his own bare ribs and internal organs.
It's not the goriest sight he's ever seen, but there is still an automatic visceral reaction to this. His stomach heaves—he watches his stomach heave—and he shudders.
"Steady," the man tells him, and he feels the burst of chakra trailing down through the puppet's fingers, calming his racing pulse. "We don't want you having another heart-attack. Shock is such an interesting phenomenon in the human body."
Sasuke forces his mind away from the macabre sight before him, and mentally scours his drug-slowed brain for something to concentrate on that will keep him conscious. It's a waiting game; he just needs to…
"…procedure itself is absolutely fascinating…resembles an operation, but in reverse…"
He's not quite sure what he needs to do but falling back into the deceptive peace of unconsciousness is not it.
"…instead of stitching you together, I am taking you apart at the seams, much the way you rip people's hearts to pieces, am I right, Sasuke Uchiha?"
The puppet reaches for another tool and carves into Sasuke as he watches.
Focus! Fucking focus or you're going to die!
"The human body is absolutely marvellous in what it can endure. Yours, for example, clinging to life as it is. I imagine, if we use our time wisely, I could shape it as easily as a sculptor would with marble or wood." There is a content sigh, and the puppet selects another scorching hot scalpel from the brazier. "True art."
Sasuke chokes at this, realising that beyond being sadistic, his captor is also insane. The last person he knew who waxed poetic about art blew up himself and an entire forest.
"Now, now. We can't have that. If you stop respiring, we'll be delayed again." There's a creaking sound and Sasuke's head is suddenly straight up, making it easier, albeit much more painful, to breathe. "Is that better?"
Sasuke says nothing, too dizzy and agonised, and focusses instead on a distant thumping noise. He thinks it's his heart, but it's too fast. His captor's solution should be keeping his heartrate steady.
It's instinct to concentrate on a pleasant thought or seek out a peaceful memory to counteract the slicing, sawing sensations being wreaked upon his bones and organs. But there are so few in his life and retrieving them is too difficult. He shuts his eyes, needing something—something concrete and unyielding, a universal axiom to draw on.
Immediately, the face of his wife flashes across his mind, shifting through the various moments of their life together. As the sadistic man and his marionette continue to carve into him, Sasuke imagines he can hear her voice.
"I have family and I have friends…but if you're gone…to me, it will be the same as being alone."
"I would do anything for you! So…please, just stay with me!"
"I love you! No matter what's happened, I still care for you more than I can bear…if I could have taken all your pain…onto myself to comfort you, I would have!"
"I'm begging you, don't slip away any further!"
"What if…I asked you…to take me with you?"
"Just once. Say it and mean it. I'll never ask to hear it again, if that's what you want, but before I can say yes—to the future, to trying, to…to all of it – you have to say it."
"Yes. Yes to all of it."
"Shhh. Sasuke, I know you're scared right now, but you're safe with me."
"Can I stay out here with you?"
"I'm right here."
Sasuke's eyes shoot open, and for the first time since he awoke in this strange place, he feels a sense of clarity and calm.
The thumping noise is becoming louder, and it's a wonder his torturer can't hear it. Either he is too focussed on Sasuke at the moment, or he doesn't care. But something is about to happen, Sasuke knows, and whatever the outcome, there's something he needs to say.
"I…can never return…the lives I've taken," he whispers haltingly. "But…killing me…will not bring him…back."
"You think I don't know that?" the man snaps, voice echoing in the dark through that distant window.
"…will try…to make up for my sins…the rest of my life," Sasuke continues, trying to convey the earnestness of his words.
"I'm afraid that sentiment is rather useless. Make no mistake, you will be dead by the end of our meeting."
"Will…my death…bring you that much…joy?"
"Oh, very little. But a moment's joy is a moment more than I've had in a long time," the man says, while his puppet selects an instrument from the grill—a scooped gouge. "I think we'll begin by taking those precious eyes of yours. And then—" The puppet draws the tool down toward Sasuke's groin, and he flinches at the searing heat close to the sensitive flesh there. "—I know a very useful procedure to deal with bothersome male hormones. To be fair, it's a little redundant, given your imminent death, but best to cover all our bases, yes?"
"If you intend…to kill me…you should do it…quickly," Sasuke rasps.
His captor makes an inquisitive noise. "I never thought I would hear you beg."
"Not begging…trying…to save your life."
There is a beat, and then a startled laugh echoes in the distant darkness. "Save my life? That's absurd, coming from you. What could you possibly do to me as you are now?"
"Not…me." Sasuke pants as the distant thumping noise suddenly comes to a thunderous crescendo.
There is an earth-shaking crash in the distance, and the puppet looming over Sasuke is abruptly yanked away from him, torturous instruments and all. The windowed wall where his captor has been hiding himself is now missing a huge chunk, and the voice from the loudspeaker cries out in shock. It's followed by a scream of pain, and another explosion which rocks the building. Chunks of ceiling and wall fall all around him, allowing cracks of light to shine through in places. Immobilised as he is, he can't look away.
Blinding light illuminates the chamber in a sudden flash, and Sasuke squints dumbly for a moment trying to acclimate. When his eyes adjust once more, he perceives a scene that very few men have seen and lived: a hard-eyed goddess, fists clenched and burning with chakra, mouth pulled into an feral snarl. He's never seen her so filled with anger, exuding a dangerous aura that heralds her terrible power over life and death.
When her eyes fall on him, taking in his condition, something terrifying flashes across her features. Sasuke knows, in that moment, that if his insides weren't hanging out of his body, if she didn't need to stabilise him as soon as possible, Sakura's own oath as a healer would mean nothing.
She would take her anger out on the person who did this to him, and he does not want to imagine what that would look like.
Sasuke spent three years living alongside a man who cut up bodies and experimented on the living for pleasure. A man who was motivated by discovery and power. But Sakura is motivated by something a lot worse; Sasuke knows this better than anyone.
After all, he thinks as he blacks out, how many unspeakable crimes did my family commit in the name of love?
うちは
When he awakens, he is not in the dark room or restrained against the wall. There is still pain, but it's the ache of exhaustion and mending, not of torture. Glancing downward, he sees thick bandages covering his chest which disappears under a thick, white blanket. It's better quality than the average hospital blanket, which suggests he's somewhere else.
Probably the Kazekage's residence.
His wife is asleep at his side, kneeling by the bed as if she dozed off while tending to him. He doesn't intend to wake her, but the minute his breathing changes, she straightens up.
"Sakura…" His throat his raw and dry.
"Don't speak," she orders him, reaching forward to brush the pads of her fingertips against his lips. "You're still not very strong." It's a natural reaction to become indignant at that, but to be honest, he is too tired. "Oh, Sasuke…what did he do to you?"
"Nothing you couldn't fix," he says heavily, putting every effort into not faltering in his words. He has absolute faith in her abilities.
"Of course not, but that's not…" she trails off, swallowing audibly and shaking her head. "You're going to be out of commission for a while." Anger flashes across her features. "Oh, if that bastard wasn't dead, I'd—"
Sasuke tries to push himself into a sitting position. "You didn't…"
"No," she replies with such a note of regret that he winces. "That's not to say I was entirely kind. I left him a mess of disconnected nerves and a face that didn't really look like a face anymore, but…but he was alive when I went to find you."
Sasuke exhales slowly, painfully, relieved that Sakura hasn't done something horrible on his behalf. Still, it doesn't answer everything. "Then?"
"Gaara. He wasn't impressed to find out that one of his people went rogue."
Sasuke lets his eyes fall shut in a grimace.
"He shouldn't have."
"Sasuke, the guy tortured you!" Sakura cries. "He vivisected you! He split you open while you were still alive!"
"That doesn't matter."
"Sasuke—"
"I killed his son," he tells her, causing her mouth to snap shut with an audible click. "He just…wanted revenge. I understand that need better than most."
But this doesn't placate her.
"I don't give a damn how much you understand," she snaps. "What he did to you was wrong. There is no justification for ever doing that to another human being." He thinks to protest, but she continues mercilessly. "Even at your absolute darkest, would you have done that to Itachi?"
Sasuke narrows his eyes. Mentioning Itachi is still taboo, even if it's not for the same reasons as when they were young. But Sakura doesn't waver, instead raising an eyebrow in challenge, suggesting she isn't about to let the issue drop until he answers her.
Sasuke pauses, considers, and finds that she does have a point.
He wanted his brother dead, there's no question of that, but he never truly had the stomach to torture Itachi. At the time, he told himself it was because of how strong his brother was, how tricky it would be to defeat him. Going for anything less than a kill-shot would've been suicide.
"No," he says at last and she sighs in obvious relief.
"I can't believe this happened," she whispers.
"It's not your fault," he tells her. "It's happened before." She gapes at him. "Perhaps not this specifically. But…I have a lot of sins to make up for. Even now. People have demons they need to exorcise."
"And you'd just…you'd just let them?" she asks faintly, eyes wide.
He grimaces as his ribs twinge painfully. "Let is a strong word."
She shakes her head at him.
"Sasuke…I'm all for forgiveness," she tells him softly, "but if you have this harebrained idea to let everyone in the world who has a grudge against you carve out their pound of flesh then we're going to have a problem."
"I need to make amends."
"You can make amends without having to bleed," she insists, affectionately brushing the hair from his face.
Sasuke's eyes soften.
Under normal circumstances, he would take her hand in his, offer her physical reassurance. It hurts too much to contemplate right now, and so instead, he tries to lighten the mood another way. "Well, I won't have to worry about that anymore."
Her brows draw together. "Why?"
"Because I have something I didn't have before."
"What's that?"
"A wife who will come to my rescue."
Sakura snorts, but her mouth pulls into a rueful smirk. "Even so, you're a bit late to the party. I've been doing that since we were twelve. You were just too sulky to notice."
"How many times did I save your life?"
"How many times did I carry you home unconscious?" she retorts. "Or jump over a cliff to save your ungrateful ass? I could've just left you."
"You never would've."
"…I never would've," she agrees after a pause.
Leaning forward, she lightly brushes her lips against his, soft and tentative, out of respect for his injuries then she presses her forehead against his.
"I love you," she tells him tenderly and his heart leaps at the words, though they are commonplace these days. "I hate seeing you in pain."
"Hm."
"But if you get yourself into a situation like this again, I swear to every god in existence, I will break as many bones in your body as it takes to stick you in a bed for the rest of your life."
He snorts at this.
"I'm not even joking, Sasuke," she warns him. "You have so much to live for right now. There's you, there's me, and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei, and all our friends back home, and the children we're going to have one day—"
Sasuke tenses at this, his torturer's story repeating itself in his head, and his eyes fly to her abdomen. "You're not…"
"What? No!" Sakura says, turning red. "Wait. Do you think I look…"
"No," he says immediately, forestalling any indignance on her part. But he fights down a wave of unexpected disappointment. Something must show on his face despite his usually controlled reactions, because Sakura's face smooths out again.
"But one day I will be, right?" she asks him, tentative. "We will be?"
There's a long, breathless silence between them, the question hanging in the air like a guillotine.
Sasuke knows what his answer should be—the damage that his blood can do, the children he has stolen from their parents in the wake of his vengeance. This whole incident has reminded him very starkly that he doesn't deserve to have anything close to happiness.
But the look on Sakura's face, the idea that with a single syllable he can watch her shoulders slump and the light in her eyes go out, is enough to make him want to be selfish.
"Yes," he tells her, willing a promise into that word.
Immediately, he knows he's made the right choice, deserving or not. Sakura's face blossoms, the smile as radiant as the day they spoke their vows. Just like that day, her eyes well with tears, but by now he know them to be an expression of joy.
"Good," she sniffs, swiping at her eyes. "That's…that's really good. And a relief."
He blinks. "What do you mean?"
"Or else all this practicing we've been doing to repopulate the Uchiha clan has been a waste."
It takes him a moment to register what she's talking about, and then his ears burn. "You're never letting me live that down, are you?"
"Not until we're old and grey," she promises him, lying down beside him and patting his arm reassuringly. "Now, you need to go back to sleep. You have a lot of healing to do, and I have to go with Gaara to explain to a certain daimyo why his private physician is now a sticky paste all over an abandoned movie theatre."
Sasuke grimaces. "That's where he was keeping me?"
"There aren't many places around here with soundproofing that aren't regulated by Gaara's people," she tells him, pressing her face into his neck. The skin there feels itchy and new, but he leans into her. "I was scared. Your chakra suddenly disappeared, and I…"
"How did you find me?"
"You know Gaara's a sensor type, and Matsuri has access to all the city plans since she tweaked the hydroponic system. It was just a matter of finding the right building. I'm just sorry it took so long."
"You were right on time."
"Heh. That's what I like to hear."
"Sakura."
"Hm?"
"Thank you for rescuing me."
"Don't be silly. I'll always rescue you."
"Even from myself?" he asks, because he has to make sure.
She smiles, and her eyes are suspiciously glassy. "Especially from yourself."
"Good."
"I think your pain medication is too high. You're bordering on sappy just now."
"I'll take that over the alternative," he replies, not looking forward to the wave of pain waiting for him when the drugs wear off.
"Go to sleep," she tells him. "I'll be here when you wake up."
He has no doubt she will be.
終わり
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! I'm only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the encouragement of readers like you, so every bit of support helps! And be sure to check out my tumblr (Typewriter Ninjutsu) for content you won't necessarily find on this site.
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