Thank you for all of the reviews! I've been so busy with school that I couldn't reply to them. /
I was actually planning not to finish this because it was supposed to kind of be like a stress reliever, but since I'm beginning to like it so much I thought I'd update it some more. Plus, it's a change of pace from my other fics.
Thank you all so much; your comments mean a lot to me. Please enjoy the second chapter of this fanfic.
I don't own Naruto — Masashi Kishimoto does.
Summary: "Sakura Haruno, exclusive doctor of the Queen in the Land of Fire, is charged with the crime of attempted murder. To atone for her sin, she shall be sentenced to a lifetime in Death's Trench, the prison under the sea."
The Prelude into One's Heart
Prisoner 1523
.
.
Sakura laid in her bed, the sheets hard and coarse on her delicate skin. She hated this place, this predicament, this life. Weariness came to nibble at her toes, tempting her to just slip off into a deep slumber, but determination kept her toes in place. The woman rubbed her legs together, trying to keep consciousness.
She could tell it was early in the morning; the cell inmates were beginning to arise from their peaceful repose. They snarled, growled, and groaned. The bell would ring soon.
Last night she was told her bathing time (six in the morning) would match the other inmate sharing the facility with her, so naturally, she felt gross and sticky after not having bathed for the whole night. But she didn't care; she would get her reward in a few moments— a refreshing shower.
The deafening bell blared through the microphones, its sound cacophonous. Desperately, the woman tried to shield her ears from the raucous turbulence. Her ears burned.
It was time for the inmates to eat breakfast.
Cell bars clanged open, inmates rushed out, and she stayed in her cage. An officer came by to open her cell— the same man from last night. "Morning, Criminal-chan."
"Hello, Half-Wit-kun." Her voice dripped with a sham tone. "May I shower now? Please?"
He chuckled and opened the bars for her, releasing her from this disgusting man-cage. "Yeah. Hop to it!"
She grabbed her towel, soap, and clothes. Before even stepping out into heaven, the woman was grounded back onto the hard, vain earth with cuffs. "And these are?"
"I can't let a prisoner out on the loose without cuffs, now can I?" He smirked and guided her forward. "Now, to your heaven."
She walked with the man, her face clouded with woe. "Is the other prisoner already there?"
"Probably. I usually walk him out, though I thought you'd appreciate my noteworthy—"
"Then he's not there yet?"
"Are you even—"
"Hurry!" She dragged the man forward, trying to rush to her destination. "I want to finish showering before he get's there!"
.
.
"Don't you dare come in!" Her tone dripped with murderous intent. "I swear, take one step in and you're dead!"
"Yes~!" Came the guard's reply.
Hesitantly, she stripped off her clothes: removing her shorts first, then her shirt, then her undergarments. Just to be on the safe side, she snatched up her towel and wrapped it around her slender form. This wasn't a time to be cautious— if she didn't want to be seen, she would have to shower quickly without caring too much about the outcome. She was racing against the clock.
Frowning, she tossed the towel aside and let the first droplets graze her skin, and was surprised when it was somewhat warm; she thought it would have been colder. She let it slide off of her cheeks, rubbing her face in relief. Not daring to dwell on the topic for too long, she rubbed the lather over her skin and into her hair, running her fingers through her now silky smooth strands.
She stood in the same spot, desperately trying to cleanse herself without taking up too much time. She hummed as the lukewarm drizzle continued to rain upon her. This was the most relaxed she had been since coming to Death's Trench, but it was kind of ironic. Who would be relaxed in a prison?
After rinsing out her hair and washing the suds from her skin, she dashed to grab her towel and dried herself off. She dragged the rough material up her sides, soaking up any stray trail of water. Then she grabbed her clean pair of undergarments and clothes to cover herself with.
With her shower done, she cautiously looked up to see if he had sneaked in without her noticing.
There was no one in the shower room but herself.
"Are you done?" Came the guard's voice from outside.
"Yeah."
.
.
Breakfast had just begun. After rushing to shower without being seen, she somewhat regretted hastily running through the water.
The cafeteria was filled with convicts eating at the tables and guards watching near the sides. She hesitantly strolled through the doors, her hands clasped behind her back. She guessed that they hadn't noticed her. Good, that was good.
She hopped over to the line and took a tray of food. The man handling the line was happy to hand it over to her, a smile burning on his face. She smiled back and took the tray in both hands, looking around for an empty table to eat at.
Everyone was eating around the front, near the doors. All of the tables were full.
She looked around some more, trying to find a vacant seat to no avail.
A hard tug then a bump from behind made her instantly drop her tray, spilling her food. "Ah...!" The bowl of soup and rice clattered on the ground, her meal gone.
She stood staring at the wasted edibles, her hunger gnawing at her. She was so busy worrying that she hadn't even noticed the drenched man with flecks of rice stuck on him in front of her.
"Ya' pokin' fun 'o me?" His deep voice breathed on her from above. She shivered subconsciously, not daring to look the fellow in the face. She felt her legs beginning to collapse, her fear gripping her tight in place. "Hah?"
Dipping her upper body, she bowed as deeply as she could, trying to show her sincerity. She dared not glance anywhere but the beige tiled floor. "I sincerely apologize for my blunder."
"That ain't gon' fix ma' clothes."
Her eyes shut tight. "I will wash them—"
The echoing of the other convicts' loud bellowing startled her to a stop. What was so funny? She had only offered to fix her mistake.
Rage was beginning to build inside her; she could feel her eyes subconsciously beginning to narrow. Still bowed, she waited for the man's answer.
"Strip."
Not able to believe what she had just heard, the rosette straightened to look at the bulky looming form in front of her. "Excuse me?"
"Ain't it fair?"
"I don't see how that is fair." She was perfectly clear that the other men could hear the venom dripping from her tone. "Conceivably your definition of fair matches the dictionary's definition."
"I think it's 'uh fair."
"Then you are a half-wit." Her voice changed from a hiss to a snarl. She was probably just making the situation worse.
However, it then occurred to her that the guards were not doing anything to stop the fight. Taking a glance at the sides from the corner of her eye, she noticed them still sitting still in place, their arms folded across their gray uniformed chests.
The larger man's rumble brought her back to her current situation. "Ya' gonn' strip o' wut?"
Directing her eyes back to the colossal man in front of her, she glared at his form. "If you think I am sorry enough to strip for the likes of you, then you can think again. I will not prostrate myself for a mistake that is only partly my fault. The person who pushed me, you, and myself are all at fault. I don't see why I am the only one to be punished."
He stood there staring, his brows contorted in confusion. A sigh escaped her lips. "Are my words too ambiguous?"
"Wut?"
"I said I'm not the only person at fault." God, this man was hard to keep up with...
The bemused glint in his eyes changed to anger. He raised a bulky arm in the air, preparing to strike her. "Ya' damn bitch!"
She stood ready to dodge, her eyes staring at the attack that was to come.
But once again, she felt a tug from behind and felt the balance in her body disrupted by a superior force. She gasped, her breath tight in her chest. She could feel herself being pulled into the crowd. In the moment of confusion, she felt strong, steely arms wrap around her form then spin her around.
A velvety whisper from her savior breezed through her senses, making her shiver; his voice ran like static down her spine. "You can't even stay out of trouble long enough for me to approach you, can you?" And then the pair of warm arms materialized just a quickly as they had appeared.
She caught her focus and looked around, the person who helped her not anywhere in sight. She ran back to the front of the crowd to look for him, but found him nowhere in sight.
A sudden uproar caught her attention. She pushed back to the front of the commotion and saw the bulky man threatening another. The man he was threatening was leaner and smaller than the beast in front of him. She couldn't see the face of the other man, only onyx locks covering his pale face.
"Who're ya?" The beast bellowed. "Ya' pickin' uh' fight too?"
The situation was spiraling out of control yet the guards were still sitting in place, not a muscle dared to move. She prayed for the other man's safety.
"I was only passing through."
The man's voice was familiar. She stared, wide-eyed at the fight about to ensue.
"Darn right ya' are!" The man continued to bellow. He raised another hand in attempt to attack the smaller man in his grasp. "The only thing passin' through is gonn' be ma' fist!"
Adrenaline pumped through her whole body as she watched the other man prepare to strike the smaller one. She felt time slow, the world sluggishly turn. Looking at the situation logically, the smaller man wasn't actually that small; he was just not as large as the other man, making the chances for his victory somewhat slim.
The next thing that happened was a frenzy of confusion. The smaller man turned his lean, agile body to evade the other man's strike while still in his grasp. She gawked at his reflexes, at his ability, at his adroitness. Then, he flipped back around and curved around once again to kick the beast from beneath its large arms. That was the last blow to end the match— no, it was too one-sided for it to be called a match. She stood there staring like a log, wondering what had just happened before her very eyes.
Everyone was hollering; the crowd became frantic. Inmates were cheering, betting who would win the fight. Amorphous spots of colors flew around her. She could see the guards finally going into action in attempt to cease the fanfare.
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd once again, trying to capture a glimpse of what was developing. Standing on her toes, she peered over the other's shoulders to see the guards apprehending the large man on the floor, but the leaner, less bulky one was nowhere in sight.
"Don't resist Prisoner 1472." One of the guards yelled as another held the man down. "You will be punished for starting violence in the cafeteria."
The two guards holding down Prisoner 1472 were different from the others. Instead of the usually gray uniforms, they wore black clothing with dark, opaque shades. Onyx caps covered their heads with the insignia of the prison "Death Trench."
"Let me go!" Prisoner 1472 yelled. He continued to resist, his arms and legs flailing to get the two guards off of him. When the guards weren't able to contain him any longer, another man strolled up to them and touched the back of the prisoner's neck. He went out like a baby. It was a wonder to her how he had done so.
This man made her unsteady on her feet, her knees weak. The white uniform fitted on his body made him an easy target to spot out in the crowd of grays, blues, and blacks. He was a bit than the other guards too, in his late thirties probably. His hair was white underneath his black rimmed cap; the eye not covered by the black patch stern. He looked around and everyone surrounding him hushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be late. Where are the other prisoners involved."
Hesitantly, she started to step toward the center of the mass when she felt a tug once again. Spinning around, she came face to face with the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes upon. His somewhat spiked-up hair was the darkest shade of black and blue she had ever seen and his eyes even darker and even more mesmerizing. She then noticed he was wearing the same drab outfit as the man fighting Prisoner 1472.
"I went through the trouble of saving you and now you just want to throw that away?" He smirked and pulled her close to him. He looked smaller when next to that bulky beast, but up close he was just as large— or maybe she was just small. He stood a whole head length higher than her.
She blushed at the close proximity of their bodies. "I never asked for your help."
"One should always accept help when given."
"Prisoner 1523, step forward."
The gorgeous man in front of her sighed and released his firm hold on her. She watched his back as he walked to the front of the crowd and towards the superior guard. "Good morning, Warden. How are you?"
Warden? She thought. He looks more like a ship captain than a warden.
"Your manners, as always, are noteworthy," The warden chuckled before putting a hand on her savior's head. "But I thought I told you to stay out of trouble like a good child."
"My apologizes."
"No, dear boy. You were not at fault. Now," He began to usher the other man towards the door. "let us get you back to your cell. There's been enough excitement for today." He turned towards the rest of us and hollered, "All of you, get back to your cells!"
She watched the two of them leave, their backs turned away from her. In a suave manner, he turned his head slightly to look back at her, their eyes meeting for what seemed like an eternity.
Blood red eyes.
.
.
She was guided back to her cell with the same guard as always. She never asked for his name and he never asked for her's, so she just called him "Half-Wit-kun."
He released the vices from her wrists and moved her behind the bars. She rubbed her wrists before speaking. "Who is...," she paused, trying to remember the man's name, "who exactly is Prisoner 1523?"
The guard was hesitant to answer, but he did so anyhow. "He's a special convict in this prison. You'd better stay away from him if you want to live."
"Why?"
He sighed and propped his arms in between the bars, leaning on them. "Each inmate has his own story. It's not really something everyone talks about."
"But he's special right?" Sakura leaned close to the guards face, looking him dead in the eyes. "Tell me how so? Think of this as... as story time."
"I can't. Hear it from someone else."
"Pleeeeease~?"
He turned away, mustering up enough will power to resist her begging. "I can't tell you..."
"This'll be my only request of you!" A big fat lie, but he bought it nonetheless.
"Fine," he started and pulled the rim of his cap over his eyes, shading them from her view. "but you can't tell anyone else, nor can you tell anyone that I told you. Got it?"
She nodded eagerly and grinned. He continued to speak in a hushed tone, so quiet that she barely made out his next words. "Do you know the name Uchiha?"
"Of cour—"
"SHHH!" A hand made it's way to cover her mouth before she could slap it away. "You know what happened twenty years ago, right?"
She began mentally piecing together the parts of the story. "You can stop there."
He gave her a bemused look. "But I thought you—"
"ENOUGH!" She walked away and sat on her bed in the dark, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I want to be alone."
He huffed and walked away, turning his back to her. "At least you're smart enough to know the story already."
Once she was sure that the sounds of his footsteps had faded away, she flopped down, back first, onto her coarse mattress.
Of course she knew the story of twenty years ago; it was around the time that Tsunade had taken her in. The Uchiha's were the ultimate clan in the Land of Fire that served the Queen herself. They were almighty, powerful, and tyrannical; however, twenty years ago, the Land of Fire was attacked: houses were raided, men were killed, women were raped, children were kidnapped, and the Uchiha's were brutally, brutally murdered. No man, woman, or child was left to live.
Or so they thought.
About fifteen years after the incident, it was publicized that a boy with the Uchiha's purest blood was found alive. Alone. She had no idea that he would be in prison though...The only reason for him to be here was revenge.
"Uchiha..." She whispered. Turning on her side, she rolled up into a ball, trying to crush out grief for this stranger that she had only just met. She could feel pain, a pain so sharp she thought a knife had pierced her. "How unfortunate for him."
.
.
"Next time, do not approach that woman." The warden looked at the shadow-covered man through the bars on the steel door. "You have nothing to do with her."
He said nothing back. He only stared at the officer with the same blood-lust filled eyes as always. He gritted his teeth in attempt to control his anger for this awful, cruel man. His generosity was sickening.
"I implore you to heed my advice, Prisoner 1523." He stared back with one eye abyss black and the other blood red.
And he left, with his white coat swishing behind him. The convict stared at the chains that held him in this hell hole.
He hated the warden; his polite demeanor only added fuel to the fire. His facade of acting as an almighty God only further dug at his irritation. What was he? His father? No, his father was dead. No one can't replace a dead person, not even if they wanted to.
He smashed his chained hands on the wall behind him, trying to shatter the links holding him to this goddamn place. "Dammnit!"
But he had received a gift; the heavens had sent him her.
"Sakura Haruno." He chortled softly at first, then into a blown out hysterical roar.
.
.
Short, I know. Sorry, but I felt like if I continued to write the next part, it wouldn't give the same feeling.
Also, if I made it a little hard to understand, the warden is Kakashi... I didn't say his name because everyone under him just calls him "Warden."
Please put up with my selfishness... /
EnigmaLight— 9:21
