Disclaimer: Naruto, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this cartoon does not belong to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.
Title: Eleven Inches of Rainfall.
Summary: In the totalitarian dictatorship of Konohagakure, Sakura Haruno, an impoverished medic just trying to get through the day, suffers a chance encounter with a pair of terrorists and becomes an unwilling accomplice to their leaders' plots. Under the red moon, shadows creep in from every angle.
Pairings: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Obito, Haruno Sakura/Sasori.
Chapter II: Conspiracy
Sakura reached into the ice box above her refrigerator for a prepackaged box of baked tilapia with lentil and tofu. Unlike yesterday's chicken, the baked tilapia had flavor, so she tended to save it for her more trying days.
Today was one such day.
The communal coffee pot at the hospital carried her through the morning, but it became clear that the caffeine had no effect when she started falling into at least two micro-naps per hour. Having dozed off on her feet, she relied on her body to jerk her mind back to awareness—albeit violently enough to alert her coworkers to the fact that she hadn't slept.
Predictably, it didn't take long for the news to reach the dual-appointed hospital president and head of surgery, Tsunade, a stern elder woman from the wealthy Senju clan. Being a member of such an upstanding family, she had her choice of workplaces but devoted her energy to Konoha General Hospital instead of the more renowned Konoha Medical Center across the city partition.
(It was only because of Tsunade's influence that they managed to snag an EKG machine and hematocrit centrifuge. Konoha General celebrated accurate diagnoses eighty-three percent of the time, which was great considering its primitive functionality, but—that was only half the battle. Incisions for most major operations still exceeded sixteen centimeters and kept the patient in recovery for up to two months. Sakura's fingers were crossed for a robot-assisted surgical system, tissue adhesives, and expanded pharmacy in the next five years. Thinking about it made her stupidly giddy, like the anticipation of massaging her feet after a long day.)
A fatigued medic was more of a liability than anything else. Sakura was temporarily reassigned to file-sorting duty in the back room and lost her patient to her well-rested rival, Ino Yamanaka. Tick, tick went the clock and her tightly clenched jaw.
Sorting files proved to be a mundane task consisting of word recognition and little else, so Sakura's idle mind wandered back to the two men occupying her residence against her will. It was her hope that they successfully contacted their leader and moved on, but, if they hadn't…
What was she going to do if they hadn't? She counted three pressing issues right off the top of her head. First, her last inspection was two months ago, so it was only a matter of time before her next one. Second, rations were called "rations" for a reason: The government said that she needed only enough food to feed one adult—not three. Finally, she couldn't maintain her peace of mind while living in seven hundred square feet with two strange men who ate her food and kept her awake all night.
If Sasori and Tobi weren't eventually discovered in her apartment, somebody would notice her flagging health. After four years of monotony, working around the same people, even the tiniest deviations were far too obvious; Yamanaka knew when she was menstruating just by glancing at her.
The whole situation seemed surreal. Sakura was in danger, but she couldn't tell anyone. There was no help available other than what she could do for herself. It hadn't quite sunken in until now that she was harboring terrorists in her apartment and that, out of everyone in the district—in the city, even—she had been their target.
Unbidden, snippets of a past conversation with Naruto floated to the forefront of her mind.
"Look at the walls, Sakura," he had said, turning her by the shoulder so she could follow the trajectory of his finger. Towering high above the roofs of the apartment complexes and power lines were thick barricades of steel-gray. A mighty forest was said to encompass their city, hence the name, but there was no way to see the trees without passing through the gates. "When you look at the sky, they're the first thing you see. Does that make you feel safe?"
"It makes me feel like there's nothing actually out there. In here, Konohagakure is the world." Sakura lifted her eyes above the wall, tilting her head back so she could see the clouds hovering overhead. Slowly, she spun on her heel, tracing the circumference of the wall until she ended back at Naruto's vivid blue eyes, a scant seven seconds later. "It's like you can cup your hands together and hold all of it in your palms."
"That's only because they never let us out. We're told the danger's out there. Hell, they could tell us anything they want; we'd never know the difference. But what if… it's actually in here?"
Maybe it was an elaborate test and she wasn't the only one taking it. The Akatsuki was a fictional element, the men in her apartment mere actors, the anti-terrorism broadcasts staged. It was all a ruse. If it was a test of her patriotism, she was failing miserably by staying silent.
Maybe Naruto was right.
Interrogation, torture! Public dismemberment, execution! a mental voice reminded her.
Sakura gave a little shudder, blinking back to the present, where Tobi had taken apart her microwave "to see if he could make any modifications" and Sasori smirked his way through her very personal diary. She was beginning to see why they were partners; together, they made a devastating impact.
"Interesting. Are you always this sickeningly optimistic, or is it a lie you keep telling yourself?" Sasori asked, indicating the page he was reading. When he lifted his head, the judgment danced in his eyes. "Have you heard of semantic saturation? In time, even you won't be able to make sense of what's written here."
"This is my life," Sakura said, carefully choosing her words and holding back her temper. She clutched the box of frozen tilapia to her chest. "I'm making the most out of what I'm given."
"Naive." He tilted his crimson-haired head, fluttering his lashes. "Foolish. You have no idea what's really out there, do you? If you did, you would never settle for these subhuman conditions you call 'life.' But fear not; that's why we're here."
She ignored him and turned her attention to the sink, which had piled with dishes in her absence. Everywhere she looked, the intruders impeded her schedule in some way. "Can't you guys wash your own dishes? And stop eating my food!"
"Tobi still thinks they'll notice."
"Then we'll just have to dispose of it elsewhere. I was thinking that facility across the bridge."
"Ooh, tricky—just how Tobi likes it. We'll need biohazard bags and forged labels from the hospital. They also have a log and video feed. What did Itachi say about Nakagawa?"
"Hirose's Lotus in Eternal Bloom, 1911. Nothing says 'paranoid' like a century-sealed bottle."
"Aww, really? Man, what a waste!"
"There will be others. Anyway, I expect to be back in a few hours, but it depends on how long it takes to clean up and find somewhere to keep it from spoiling. Set an alarm for ten, but don't bother waiting past midnight. I'll rattle the doorknob twice before I knock."
"Okie dokie. Have fun!"
Sakura, dressed in her cotton button-down pajama shirt and lounge pants and in the midst of cleaning her work uniform in the kitchen sink—after washing the dishes, including her dirty fork from when all of this began, one hundred years ago—had been eavesdropping on what sounded like the continuation of a previous conversation. Making no sense of it, she watched as Sasori donned his straw hat and headed for the door.
"Not very inconspicuous," she criticized under her breath. "Yeah, great plan."
Tobi, kneeling on the kitchen floor at her feet and dutifully reassembling her microwave, snickered at her comment.
The object of her consternation paused. "What was that, Haruno?"
"Nothing."
"I thought so." Sasori glanced over his shoulder at her from under the wide brim of his hat. "Listen, while I'm gone, why don't you work on your attitude?"
Sakura immediately stopped scrubbing her uniform. "Excuse me?"
"I'm saying you should learn to be grateful to us. Here we are, tirelessly working to free your city from its tyranny, but it almost sounds like you would prefer to keep things the same as they are now. Am I wrong about that?"
"I don't… That's not—" Sakura closed her mouth with a click of her teeth, too flustered to spit out a complete sentence. What she wanted to point out was that she wasn't obligated to provide hospitality to criminals. But her tongue betrayed her; all she could do was glower and hope the sentiment was conveyed there.
Conspiracy, came that little voice of doubt. But since when did she assign value to anything Naruto Uzumaki said? It quieted just as quickly as it came.
"Right. Keep working on it." With a little flourish of his hand in farewell, Sasori unlocked the apartment door and disappeared into the night.
Sakura slammed a fist down on the counter, not quite hard enough to damage anything but enough to release some of her pent-up frustration. Exhaling, she rinsed the soapy white fabric in her hands and thoroughly wrung it out. In the process, she paid no attention to her other uninvited guest, who had sidled up behind her to observe her mundane task.
"It's just you and Tobi now," Tobi said in her ear, making her flinch. "What would Pretty Girl like to do to pass the time?"
"Drop the ridiculous act. You don't need to pretend when it's just me," she replied warily, spinning around to face him. She kept track of his hands, prostrate at his sides. "And stop calling me that; I'm Sakura. Or 'Haruno.'"
"Who said Tobi is pretending?" He leaned forward and curled his fingers over his mask, peering out of his single eye hole at her. Unlike Sasori, he towered a head over her. His other hand came to a rest on the counter beside her, trapping her in place. "Maybe I'm fucking insane."
Vaguely disturbed by his candor, Sakura ended the short-lived conversation by ducking under his arm and hurrying to her bathroom to hang her dripping uniform over the shower door. She had a few more articles to wash and chose to finish the job at the bathroom sink, spreading her white undershirt, panties, and bra over the towel bar. After using the toilet, washing her face and hair in the sink, and mentally preparing herself, she flicked the light off and stepped out of the bathroom.
"Tell me, Sakura," Tobi cajoled from the direction of her bed, startling her. Under the dim column of light streaming in from the living room through the cracked door, he propped himself up with her pillow. His booted feet, crossed at the ankles, hung over the bottom edge of the mattress. "Have you ever listened to music?"
"Music? You mean… the national anthem?"
"Hn. Not quite." Tobi drew her attention to the radio sitting on his lap. He spun the dial like he was searching for something specific, and static crackled out until he landed on a clear frequency. Smooth notes drifted out, accompanied by the ting-ting ting-ting of a languid beat heralding a woman's lilting voice, and he turned up the volume. "I mean music."
Falling silent, Sakura held her breath and listened to the song with greedy ears. The woman sang of bitterness and shame, of both love and time lost, and the music reminded her of dripping summer heat and the dark chocolate she once tasted as a child. The swanky melody had her tapping her fingers against her thigh without realizing that she was doing it.
"Oh," she breathed reverently. "It's nice…"
"Are you familiar with dancing?"
"I understand the concept. Erm… what, you want to dance… with me?"
Tobi laughed at her and snuck his forearms behind his head. "No. I want you to dance for me."
Sakura blushed. He had enunciated each syllable as seductively as the woman sang her heartbreak. Even his laughter rumbled pleasantly, far too inviting to annoy her. When he wasn't mocking her with his fake voice or reminding her of the hopelessness of her situation, she found him… somewhat approachable.
The music was a beautiful and thoughtful gift. She would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn't touched, law-breaking aside, as it was highly illegal to tamper with the radio in any way. As she listened to it, a stab of bitterness entered her heart. What else was barred to her? Why was it barred to her? It didn't seem fair.
She chided herself for lingering on those sorts of thoughts. After all, when Tobi and Sasori left, she would have to learn to live without beautifully distracting things. Their goal, greatly ambitious, wasn't one she thought they were capable of reaching.
"So, how long are you staying here?" she asked, clearing her throat. Tobi, while an insufferable tease, was easier to speak with between the two of them, and she found herself relaxing minutely.
"A day, a week, a month—who knows?" He shrugged his shoulders, wholly unconcerned about his uncertain future. She looked on in disbelief. "We'll be gone when Leader says we're done. Preferably when your government falls to its knees."
Assuaged by his willingness to speak, Sakura lowered herself to sit on the bed beside his feet. His boot playfully nudged her. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to share your plans with me."
"Normally, my lips are sealed. But I would be hard-pressed to object if you attempted to pry them open…" he trailed off. "How badly do you want to know?"
Embarrassed, Sakura ducked behind her damp hair, unaccustomed to such blatant flirting. The song had ended, making way for a new one, low and intimate, and the notes drifted softly between them. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why else?" Tobi unclasped his mask and slid it off. Splaying his hand against the right side of his face, he hid it in shadow. "I'm interested."
Shivering, Sakura eyed his flawless pale skin and the sharp line of his jaw as he tilted it upward. She wondered why he wouldn't show the other half of his face to her but chose not to press the issue. "Is that why you broke into my apartment?"
He smiled. "We've met."
"What?" Her lips parted in shock. Searching her memory yielded no results; she didn't recognize his face. "You're from Konoha?"
Tobi hummed, neither confirming nor denying.
"Then… is Sasori from here?"
"I don't know. In our organization, it's a strict rule that we don't share details about ourselves—hometowns, interests, families, and such. That said, I trust Sasori as my partner. Our goal is the same. As long as we focus on that, there's no reason to worry about the other's intentions."
"I see. Well, if you weren't from Konoha, you wouldn't care what happens to it, right?" she attempted to reason.
"Not necessarily. Your dictatorship harms relations and trade with the other great cities. Konoha's population and resources are vast, and it's picking favorites and assuring future destruction by reaching out to other corrupt individuals across the world. Wealth is being wasted, recycling among the rich and increasing your leader's power to threatening proportions. Simply put, it's becoming a problem."
Then, thoughtfully, he tacked on, "Of course, the Akatsuki isn't devoid of empathy; we strive to make the world better for everyone, including the oppressed, like you."
"…Ambitious."
"Aren't we? We'll start with Konoha and see where it goes."
Affected by his charming grin, Sakura turned her eyes to her antsy hands. They sat in companionable silence, broken only by music and her nervously picking at her nails. She wished she could remember who he was and where she had met him, but it shamed her to realize that she had no idea. The only possibility she could fathom was that gala held by the Uchiha family a few years ago, but—
The sound of shifting cloth and a dip in the mattress interrupted that tangent. She looked up and noticed that Tobi had set the radio on the floor beside the bed. He regarded her with a strange intensity, reclining on one arm.
"Come here, Sakura," he said.
Slowly, she scooted up the bed, leaving a few polite inches between them, for that was all she could spare on her twin-sized mattress without toppling off the side.
Still partially covering his face, he reached out and captured one of her wrists, bringing her even closer with an abrupt jerk. She barely managed to catch her balance before she crashed across his cloak-clad chest.
"Undress me."
With widened eyes, she twisted around to gawk at him. "What?"
"You don't really want to sit here doing nothing all night, do you? How dull. We could pass an hour without even thinking about it. Or more… depending on how good it feels."
Sakura's face reddened, and her breathing grew short and erratic. The lewd insinuation tingled its way down her spine, flicking each vertebra like a cold, merciless fingertip. Was this really the same guy who sometimes spoke in third-person and acted like an overgrown child squealing and smashing his toys together? And, supposedly, she had already met him in the past.
"I won't hurt you," Tobi promised with a simper, "unless you think you'll like it. I'll make it memorable either way."
This was a feeling she had never experienced so intensely before. She was hopelessly frozen, unsure of how to process the liquid heat pooling in her body. She couldn't unstick her tongue to speak. Her wrist was tugged once again, and a hand settled on her thigh, guiding her to kneel astride him. His abdominal muscles twitched beneath her weight.
When Tobi sat up, she slid down into his lap. Into her neck, he whispered, "How do you want it?"
His hand fell away from his face as he kissed his way up to her ear. Soft lips, moistened with a swipe of an impatient tongue, left raised hairs and gooseflesh in their wake. Strong hands commanded her hips, and teeth closed around her ear. His fingers dipped under her lounge pants to suggestively circle her prominent hip bones. Pulled impossibly close, she was compelled to straddle his erection.
Sakura swayed with a pang of dizziness and dropped her forehead to his shoulder to regain her equilibrium. She felt like she was cowering on a clear-glass floor, looking down at Konoha and all the specks contained within its walls. Too high, too fast—what should she do? "It's… it's too much. It's too hot. Please, Tobi…"
Thankfully, Tobi seemed to understand. With a chuckle, he raised a hand to card it through her pastel-pink locks. "Do I turn you on that much? I'm flattered."
"This is new to me," she admitted with wobbling lips. "Music… sex. I—I don't know what to do."
"Sasori's right; you truly have no idea what you're missing out on," Tobi mused, allowing her to escape his lap. She quickly looked away from the unabashed tent in his dark pants, where the line of his cloak parted. It seemed like she was destined to be frequently reminded of his virility. "There's more to life than walls and schedules."
Sakura didn't argue.
Later, once she had time to calm down, she heated her dinner and found that her microwave no longer nuked a hole through one specific spot. It heated everything evenly, resulting in a delicate, moist fragrance. She held her tongue when Tobi, flicking his mask aside with a quirked mouth, stole a bite of her tilapia and licked the lemon residue from his fingers.
Gratitude swelled within her—but not because Sasori told her to feel it.