Chapter 3 – Chances Are…
Sakura tugged furiously at the window bars. No good. Not even when she braced her feet against the walls and wrenched like some desperate cartoon character. With a frustrated grunt, she gave up and occupied herself by looking around the room for something sharp and hard.
Figuring out how to get rid of restraints that held her back from falling seven storeys probably wasn't the healthiest thing a girl could do in her free time – but Sakura was insistent. She would get out of here. She had to. If she could just get rid of the bars then she could… something. Her heart was sinking even as she searched through the drawers. No one had given her a crash course on jumping from short term goal to long term goal. Or how to make a seven storey landing.
It had been a few days (she'd lost count of how many) since that day of dinner with the murderer. When she had woken up the following day she had simply lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Not comatose or dead. Her hatred deepened impossibly.
Dinner was served in her room from then on. So was breakfast and lunch. There was no flap in the door where her meals were pushed in from, belying Sakura's pessimistic thoughts. No, her host unbolted the door each time and set the plates on the desk in the corner of her room. After the first couple of tries, Sakura didn't even bother trying to charge him anymore. He was fast and he was strong. He never deliberately hurt her, though. His grip was firm but not quite punishing, and pushing her away or onto the bed seemed to be preferable to smacking her to the floor.
Well what do you know? Sakura thought bitterly. We have a teddy bear for a killer.
He came to collect the plates almost immediately after she was finished. It was like he was watching her every move. She didn't even have the opportunity to start sawing at the window bars with the butter knife. It was probably the same knife she had threatened him with – the same one that might have turned her into a murderer like him.
The meals were not stone cold or lacking at all. This infuriated Sakura even more. Some days she ate, some days she didn't.
Sakura had trouble summing up the nameless man (boy, she reminded herself) who had taken her away from her home. She was alive. That certainly counted for something. She was taken care of. A room, bed, even her own bathroom. It was almost like staying at a hotel. A hotel that kept their guests behind locked doors. If she was hungry between meal intervals, banging on the door and yelling generally sent up a snack. There was barely anything she could hold against him.
Not that it mattered. He had killed her father. Sakura Haruno would hate a man she didn't even know the name of to the roots of his existence. She would… and there she faltered. This was where she always faltered. What would she do with him? Escape from and loathe. She couldn't say it, could barely think it.
Kill.
The knock on her door made Sakura jump. Her green eyes darted to the wall clock. Eight o'clock. Dinner was usually served around this time. She backed away from the door.
The familiar sounds of unbolting reached her ears, and then the door eased open. A blond head poked in. For a second, Sakura thought she saw his eyes flicker to the windows and she stiffened. But then he was smiling, as he had been doing so often lately, as if smiling to his victims' daughters was something he did every day.
"Hi," he said. There was nothing in his hands. Sakura tensed; what had he decided now? Her heart rate began to steadily rise. Was he going to kill her now?
"I was wondering if you had calmed down enough to join me for dinner downstairs."
That… was it? After all this, everything because it felt like eternity since she had been held captive, he was just… it just wasn't right. She tried to pull reign on her emotions. They were suddenly spiralling into turmoil. She barely knew what had triggered this. Days of feeling like a trapped rat, maybe.
Something inside Sakura snapped.
She kept stepping back until she had pressed herself against the wall. Her eyes were wide. "Why do you… stop it… just stop it!"
He was calm, and cocked his head to the side. "Stop what?"
"This! Quit acting like you're a good guy! What is this? Pity? I don't need it!" She was screaming now. He seemed unaffected. "What the hell do you want? Kill me already – kill me like you killed my father!" Why was she crying? She didn't know.
For a while he was silent. Then, "So… no dinner?"
"I hate you!" It was cue for her to throw things at him. But she didn't. There was nothing she could reach; everything seemed so far away. Home was off in the unseeable distance yet reality was frighteningly close. "You bastard! I'll never forgi – let go of me!"
"First of all," he said, pinning her against the wall, his eyes piercing hers, "my name is Naruto Uzumaki, not 'bastard'. Secondly, I think you're being unbelievably selfish."
"What?" She tried to lash out at him.
"I thought you would be grateful that you are still alive. What is this? Your father is dead, he's gone – and I know I killed him. What are you going to do now? Die as well? You're just going to throw away yourself. You won't think about how much your father might have loved you and how little his life would mean if you don't even want to live?"
"Bullshit!" she yelled at him. "What do you know?" But something inside her, the something that had snapped, was crumbling. The tears were coming down faster, choking her breaths. "You don't know anything. Father… Father loved me… he… you don't know. You don't…" God, what had she done? Her father had loved her. What was she doing? Hating someone to the core – did it really mean more to her than he had? Than he did?
She was breaking.
"And thirdly," Naruto Uzumaki's voice said from above her (when she had sunk to the floor?), "are you coming down for dinner? Yes or no?"
"No. No, no, no, no…" She wasn't sure if she was answering him or lashing out at reality. Sakura knew she was being unstable. She heard the door close, and suddenly there was nothing she could hold back anymore.
Screaming was beyond her. She couldn't control the wracking sobs. Just buried her face against her knees and let herself cry. What had she been thinking these past days? That her father had been killed and that she needed to either escape this prison or join him? No. She was wrong. She was so horribly wrong. Her father hadn't just been killed – he was dead. He was gone. He wasn't coming back.
It was one of those split second realisations. The ones that came out of nowhere and slammed into you full force and harder than any truck. The ones that hurt the most and tore at your sanity.
Sakura still remembered him. She remembered him so clearly it was deceiving. She remembered on her fifteenth birthday he had taken her out for KFC and it had been the best birthday ever. She remembered how the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She remembered they used to argue about the stock market. She remembered that his arms were strong and warm when they hugged her. She remembered when he was alive.
She missed him.
The door opened again and Naruto Uzumaki stepped in. Sakura slowly raised her head and watched, rather lifelessly, as he placed a cup of instant ramen on the desk. He wasn't quite looking at her as he said, "When you're given a chance, just take it. It's all over if you let it run past you. Don't be an idiot." Then he was gone and she could hear his footsteps fading.
He left her at a loss. What kind of killer leaves his captives alive and encourages them to live? It was inane.
The ramen was waiting for her, steam slowly coiling in mesmerising wisps. Sakura got to her feet. She swayed a little before she righted herself. A single realisation thudded in her chest and made her walk to the desk – she didn't want to die.
Naruto Uzumaki was right. There was no point to giving up and waiting for death. She needed to live.
Sakura Haruno was going to stay alive, and when the time came, she would escape.
Naruto did not quite want to admit that he was enjoying himself a bit more than he should. In general terms it had been idiotic of him to leave a witness alive. In Agency regulation terms, it was basically forbidden and often placed in comparison to holding a knife to your own neck. Holding a person captive imposed a definite risk.
He faintly realised this all in the back of his mind, yet did nothing about. If anything, he was downright ignoring the rules. He sometimes had the tendency to do that.
Meals were eaten in the lounge room again. It was rather amusing; Sakura only started to eat after Naruto had taken the first bite. Most of the time she glared at him throughout the entire meal and made it no secret that she still distrusted him. Behind those eyes, she was planning and calculating. Naruto knew she was carefully noting the apartment's layout each time he allowed her out of her room.
A captive Sakura Haruno was an assassin's worst nightmare.
But still, Naruto mused, the companionship was rather… nice. It had been a while since someone other than himself had occupied this apartment. It was strangely soothing to sit in his room and know that he was not alone.
"Can I go back to my room now?" Sakura huffed from over the counter where Naruto had made her sit on the couch. She was a little uneasy. Usually he would take her down for meals and then escort her back to her room – he'd never told (or rather, instructed) her to wait for him while he washed the dishes. He was terribly slow at the chore and Sakura found herself easing to the edge of her seat, brow furrowed.
"Nothing's going to happen. Sit back and enjoy the music, Sakura," he called back to her. He grinned as she went rigid and gave him a venomous look. She seemed not to care how he knew her name; she just hated hearing it from him. It irritated her. Naruto made sure he said it on a regular basis. He was getting better at saying it casually.
It did little to soothe her nerves. Her host had a home theatre surround sound system – looking around, Sakura noted that most of the furnishings were modest and of good quality. It made her eyes narrow in astringent distaste. I guess you make a lot of money killing people, huh?
At least he had good music tastes.
Naruto went over to the television and turned on one of the several gaming consoles he had attached to the stream. Then he reached into a drawer and took out a remote, plugging in the wire to the platform and uncoiling it as he walked over to sit on the couch. Sakura shuffled away from him, frowning. The television's screen flickered to life and began to load the console.
"So," Naruto said conversationally. He set down the control on the glass table in front of the couch and reached a hand toward Sakura. "Let's see how that concussion of yours is, huh?"
She slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" Angry tones. Sakura found her way to the adjacent armchair, completely isolating herself. She wore a hard glare on her features.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not going to rape you or anything."
"Oh I'm sure you wouldn't." She did not sound convinced.
"Look, I know you hate me – you have a really good reason to, yeah. But since we're living togeth-"
"We are not living together!" she snapped.
"Okay, okay; we're not living together," he relented in a gentle tone. His giving way seemed to give her a small satisfaction. "But let me tell you the truth; you won't be getting out of here anytime soon. We'll be stuck with each other for a while; don't you think it would be much easier for the both of us if you just calmed down a little and tried to get along? I'd prefer not to have to resort to force."
Sakura snorted. "Bastard," he heard her mutter.
"Naruto," he reminded. She glanced at him but otherwise said nothing. "It's bad luck that we had to meet under these conditions – I'm pretty sure we could be friends."
"That's ridiculous."
"No really, I'm quite likeable in real life, you know that?"
"I can see you're trying very hard," Sakura replied scathingly. In all honesty, she had noticed that Naruto Uzumaki's demeanour was less frigid, short of the professionalism she had been witness to a few days ago. He acted more like the teenager he should be… more like a human.
A wordless lapse blanketed them. Only the sounds of the game broke the silence. Sakura watched for a while. Uzumaki was playing a racing game. Mario, in fact. It made her want to laugh. How very childish. "What, no blood and gore?" she asked.
"You're not even trying, are you?" After being met with silence, he shrugged and held out the controller to her. "You want to play?"
"No."
"Fine. Suit yourself."
Sakura pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Just what are you trying to get out of this?" she demanded.
"I told you – nothing. I just thought you'd – whoa!" He jerked his arm as Yoshi's cart went skidding across the asphalt. He righted himself again. "Sorry. I just thought you were getting sick of being cooped up in that room."
Another moment of silence. In the midst of racing the championship Naruto watched Sakura discreetly from the corner of his eye. "Don't bother looking for a phone," he informed her when she failed Stealth 101. "It's all about the new age – mobile is the only way you'll be calling your boyfriend."
Sakura frowned. It was almost like Naruto Uzumaki was a different person. What was this? Was he lowering his guard? While it did unsettle her, Sakura realised that she could get something out of this. It wasn't like she had anything to lose. "You kill for a living, don't you?" she asked him. She tried to keep her tone even.
"Hitman, contract killer, hired gun, assassin – whichever floats your boat."
"Why do you do this?"
"I can't tell you that. I don't know myself."
It was… eerie, somehow, to be discussing something so dark over the game's cheerful soundtrack. Uzumaki was not a bad player. It made Sakura doubt herself. It made her doubt everything. Naruto Uzumaki was a boy. He couldn't have hit adulthood by more than a couple years. He was a kid and he was a murderer.
"Why would someone want to kill my father?"
Naruto glanced at her. He wondered if she was truly conscious of what she was saying. Her voice had come out as a broken whisper; she was afraid. Afraid that Kazuo Haruno was not the man she had looked up to. Afraid that he had brought death upon himself. "I don't know. Political reasons, financial feuds…" He turned back to the screen. "It's a tough world. Not in defense for myself or anything, but if the person who gave the order for your father to be killed was bent on it, it wouldn't matter if I killed him or not; sooner or later someone would come along."
She looked hard at him. "I wouldn't know, would I? The truth is right in front of us. My father is dead and you killed him."
"True," he relented. "But then, if you think about it… if I hadn't taken the job and let it pass on to another agent, you probably wouldn't even be alive. Most of the others kill on sight. Be grateful, Sakura."
She scowled. It was a sore point. Then she comprehended the meaning behind Uzumaki's words. "'Another agent'?" she repeated.
"You're a sharp one, aren't you?" he said, amused. There was a pause as he got up to put away the controller. "I'm afraid I can't say any more. All I can tell you is; more people fancy killing as a profession than you could imagine. Now come on, bedtime." Even though it was only nine o'clock and Naruto knew Sakura stayed up to late hours.
She rose and proceeded up the staircase without a word. Naruto followed behind her; he was taking no chances. He paused at the door before he left. "You should think about what I said tonight. It won't do you much good if you continue this way. You don't want to get on the wrong side of me, trust me."
Sakura eyed him. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but she was certain that he would take necessary action if he needed or wanted to. Killing was in his nature. Her death would mean nothing to him. She was at odds as to what her life meant to him now – she decided she didn't want to know.
"I still hate you."
Uzumaki smiled at her. "Suit yourself. I imagine it's rather boring sitting in here all day; I'll bring you some books sometime."
"Whatever."
Books weren't the only things Naruto Uzumaki indulged on her. Sakura enjoyed reading as a hobby, had since she was a child. But until now, she had never quite understood the significance of having her own clothes to wear. She had been wearing Uzumaki's clothes since she had woken up in captivity, and she was desperate to rid herself of his scent.
He bought her shirts, jeans, jackets, pyjamas… lingerie. Sakura's face traitorously went red. Uzumaki had claimed that the boxers he had given her were clean but it still made her uncomfortable and awkward to be reminded every time she undressed that she was wearing a stranger's underwear. The new clothes were surprisingly snug to her body and fit her very well.
"I wasn't the one who picked them out," he said when she asked him, with suspicions of the fitting lingerie tainting the purity of the question.
"Then who did?"
"A friend of mine – it doesn't matter. They look good on you."
She really didn't need to be complimented by someone like Naruto Uzumaki.
There were times when his recently surfaced flamboyant personality would falter and be replaced with a stark seriousness. She learned to leave him to his brooding. She supposed that, to a killer, cheeriness was only a weak defense. Naruto Uzumaki seemed to have more conscience than she had expected.
On the other hand, Uzumaki was vibrant most of the time, and as the days progressed he became increasingly carefree. Despite Sakura's insistence to keep her distance, his enthusiasm made it difficult for her to continue sniping stubbornly at him. Uzumaki had an austere contrast of personalities; the proficient assassin and the goofy teenage boy. It wasn't anything closely related to a split personality, but Sakura was still constantly unnerved by how quickly and efficiently he could slip into the different skins with barely any effort or warning at all.
Time passed uneventfully for Sakura. The thing about boredom was that it dulled everything – despising Naruto Uzumaki, escaping captivity, grieving for her father; everything was felt on a smaller scale. When she wasn't reading or watching childish DVDs that Uzumaki chose, Sakura even found herself conjuring ludicrous scenarios. Turning Uzumaki into a frog had somehow made the list. It was ridiculous and she knew it.
Sakura had not seen this coming. She had envisaged that she would turn hell on Naruto Uzumaki. She had pictured rebelling against his every move and eventually breaking free from his clutches. She had seen herself doing something. But Uzumaki's preparations were impeccable. There was no way to escape from her prison unless he willed it.
She told herself that there were always flaws. Always. She just had to be patient and bide her time. A chance would come, and when it did she would take Uzumaki's advice and reach for it without hesitation.
But when a chance did come, it was only because Naruto Uzumaki wanted her to help him kill someone.
A/N: I'm personally not very happy with this chapter. It generally takes me a few chapters to actually into writing a story and it was hard for me to shift from writing the original Narutoverse to a complete AU. Not happy :(
Naruto had quite a personality change, didn't he? I still think it's rather sudden but I seriously could not continue writing if he remained like a rock. I would've had better luck handing the role over to Sasuke. I didn't want to make Naruto too OOC - I suppose you could pin down his sudden return to cheerfulness against his adjustment to Sakura; not so nervous now that he's realised she's not much of a threat. I hope I didn't rush Sakura's reactions too quickly, especially near the end of the chapter.
Ah well, I suppose that's what experiments are for; discovering what works and what doesn't. And lastly, apologies for the semi-cliffy. I had to move the story along before it became extremely boring.