Again, thank you so much to everybody who reviewed. :) Oh, and because I think I forgot to mention it earlier – this story alters the timeline of certain events that happened in the manga slightly, in just one specific instance: instead of being assigned the mission to eliminate the Uchiha clan at thirteen, Itachi was assigned that mission, performed it, and left the village at fifteen, the same age Sakura is now. I know it seems like a weird thing to change, but I promise that it will come into play later.
-
Chapter Four: These Circumstances
-
In the space of just about two and a half milliseconds, Sakura somehow manages to internally ask all the kami why, whywhywhy they hate her so freaking much.
Because, honestly, she had just wanted to ask for a towel. She certainly hadn't had any desire to find herself face-to-face with Itachi Uchiha, her village's most infamous – and very, very nonplussed-looking – renegade, especially as he had just been the single cause for what has undoubtedly been one of the most frustratingly horrible days that she has ever had the horror of experiencing. Ever.
Sakura laughs nervously, stepping away from the door and managing not to slip in the veritable pool of water that has collected at her feet. "Well, um, never mind then, I'll just be going—"
Itachi's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch, and before Sakura can finish her escape, one of his hands shoots out, locks around her still-bruised right wrist, and he rather unceremoniously drags her into his room, before slamming the door behind her.
All of this happens in less time than it takes her to blink, and in her rather stressed state of mind, it takes Sakura's exhausted body one moment further to comprehend the fact that she is in Itachi's room. Alone. And that he is leaning against the closed door, staring at her in a way that makes her really, really uncomfortable.
Sakura gulps, and despite her mind's best conscious efforts to order her to stand her ground like the brave kunoichi she is, there are some things that are just too intimidating to comprehend, and Sakura backs up one pace, before colliding with the small heating unit. "What the hell are you doing?" she tries to demand, but to her intense dismay, the question comes out phrased in a terrified squeak.
Itachi raises an eyebrow elegantly, still leaning against the door and surveying her dripping and bedraggled countenance from head to toe. "I believe I could ask you that," he replies, at length.
Sakura wraps her arms around her waist defensively, displeased to note that her black shirt is now soaked through and clinging to her skin. "I distinctly recall saying that I would appreciate it if you could lend me a towel," she says, through gritted teeth. "But I said that under the impression that I was asking some normal guy for a towel. Now, I would be happy to just leave."
Itachi regards her for a few more long moments, his expression inscrutable. "…No."
"Look, I know what this is about, and I don't exactly like the fact that I keep running into you, either!" Sakura retorts hotly, wringing her hair out onto the carpet and stepping toward him, so that they are only separated by a couple of inches; Itachi eyes her dispassionately, and he feels distractingly warm and dry, enough to make her scowl resentfully. "…But I'm cold and wet and I hurt all over, and I still hate what happened when we were in the supply closet earlier today, but I don't want to start anything right now, and if you would just let me, I'll be happy to go back to my room and try and sleep, and if I'm lucky, I may even dry off in a few hours—"
Itachi frowns down at her, unimpressed by the beginnings of what promises to be a remarkable tirade. "…You talk too much," he says quietly.
Sakura gapes at him incredulously, the four simple words effectively taking all of the wind out of her sails and reducing her to a state of utter speechlessness. Itachi quickly takes hold of the welcome opportunity by slipping away from the door and padding across the expansive room, before disappearing into a door that Sakura presumes leads into the bathroom. She directs a look at the door out of the corner of her eye – this could be her chance to make a break for it, grab her stuff, and skip out of the inn entirely; spending the night in the room next to Itachi's, of all people, sounds like it would only be a fractional margin better than staying out in the unprotected forest, at the mercy of the Root hunters.
Sakura honestly weighs her options for a few seconds, but then she is forced to admit that if she leaves now, she is never going to get a towel, and if she stays wet like this, she's probably going to end up with a cold, or worse. And the only thing more dangerous than being a missing-nin is being a sick and vulnerable missing-nin.
She is startled out of her thoughts by a heavy, solid weight hitting her squarely in the chest, and Sakura looks down sharply, just managing to catch it on instinct. At first glance, her immediate impression is that it is a large black fleece blanket, but then she realizes that it is just a thick, nice-smelling plush towel, much nicer than anything that an extra towel that an inn would give him. "What…?"
Itachi leans against the door to the bathroom, and when Sakura looks over at him, she is surprised to find herself noticing that, right now, with his loose black-and-gray plaid pajama pants, slightly stretched-out black t-shirt, and vaguely irritated look in his dark eyes, he looks deceptively normal; the tense, combat-ready posture and purple-painted fingernails and toenails are the only eerie nods to his true nature and profession. "Just use this one instead," he says tonelessly. "Both of the towels that came with the room were covered with mysterious and undoubtedly unhygienic stains."
Slightly unsure of what to say, Sakura clutches Itachi's towel close to her chest, before edging over toward the door. "Um, thanks – I'll bring it back in a few minutes…"
Before she can even finish her sentence, in another display of that remarkably casual, chakra-enhanced speed that she had cursed a million times over during their confrontation earlier in the day, Itachi is in front of her, effectively blocking her exit. "Now, Sakura," he deadpans. "Did I give you my permission to leave?"
Sakura blinks, realizing the implications of his statement, and then glares up at him angrily, forgetting that he could probably very easily snap her neck in retaliation before she would even register that his arm had moved. "I don't need your permission!" she snaps, trying – and failing – to get past him. "Kami, Itachi, it's not like I'm going to steal your damned towel, or anything!"
Itachi just frowns at her slightly, before giving her a light push in the direction of the bathroom with the tips of his fingers, in order to minimize the amount of physical contact. "Go," he orders, in a tone that brooks no argument.
Silently fuming at his sheer arrogance, Sakura gathers the towel to her chest and stalks across the room without another word – the injustice of this situation is enough to make her wish that she had just quit while she was ahead by drowning herself in the shower while she had the chance.
To add insult to injury, compared to her room, which Sakura is almost one-hundred percent sure had formerly been a broom closet and is furnished with nothing but a rock-hard mattress on creaky bedsprings, Itachi's is fairly luxurious. As Sakura tentatively steps into the bathroom, flicking the light on and closing and locking the door behind her as she goes, she is displeased – to say the least – to notice the accommodations here are just as amazing, and—oh, kami.
Itachi has a hairdryer.
Sakura actually drops the towel on the floor, reaching out to touch the appliance reverently. She hasn't even seen one of these since she had left Konoha; it had been one of those little luxuries that she had taken so much for granted but that she misses with a fierce passion now, and, oh, the jealousy burns. Briefly, Sakura wonders if she could manage to sneak it out somehow, but then she winces as she rubs the bruises left on her arms – hell, she knows that she would be wrathful if somebody stole her hairdryer, and imagining a wrathful Itachi is honestly enough to make her want to hide under a table somewhere.
Without further ado, Sakura decides to do the next best thing, and strips out of her soaked clothes and underwear, wraps Itachi's towel around herself, plugs in the hairdryer, and begins drying off all of her things and her shoulder-length hair as quickly as she can. Between the heat of the hairdryer and the welcome warmth of the thick towel, Sakura finds herself relaxing slowly, taking a few deep breaths in order to calm herself. It smells good in here, kind of like the scent that had been lingering on the towel when Itachi had quite literally thrown it at her, and, because she is curious by nature and no amount of intimidation could take that away from her, she leans back a little, observing the shower gel and shampoo balanced neatly on the rack outside of the shower stall – pine and spearmint, apparently. Sakura smirks humorlessly at herself in the slightly-steamed mirror; despite everything else that she could say about Itachi, none of which would be remotely pleasant, at least he has the fundamental decency of ensuring that he always smells good while making other people's lives utterly miserable.
Once her things are finally dry, Sakura rubs herself down with the towel, thinking seriously about purchasing one on the rare occasion that she ever finds herself with money to spare, only because it would prevent horrible, awkward situations like this. Her clothes are comfortingly warm when she puts them on again, and she runs her fingers through her flattened, straight hair self-consciously before replacing the hairdryer back to its original place, and slipping out of the bathroom, the damp towel cradled in her arms.
Itachi had been sitting on the edge of his bed, but as soon as he sees her, he rises to his feet, meeting her halfway. He is tired, but he raises an eyebrow minutely upon noticing that Sakura physically looks less like a drowned mouse and more like a contented cat, after the nearly twenty minutes she had spent locked in his bathroom with his hairdryer. She better not have shorted it out, he finds himself thinking distantly, even as he notices the obvious wariness in her posture as she looks up at him almost nervously. His physical appearance may be a lot less threatening now, without the Akatsuki cloak, but Sakura doesn't think that anything could ever make her feel at ease around somebody of his reputation, and she holds the towel out to him a little awkwardly. "…Thank you."
Itachi wrinkles his nose slightly upon faced with the wet and now synthetically-sweet smelling towel, before folding it quickly and efficiently, and Sakura can't help but wince as the movement draws attention to the three long tracks that score the insides of both of his arms. They are half-scars and half-welts, where her fingernails had dug into the skin and drawn blood, and now, hours afterward, they are a strange, painful-looking purplish-maroon shade. To Itachi's surprise, she blushes a little while surveying the casual action, her eyes going to the marks on his arms. "Um…do those hurt?" she asks cautiously.
Itachi blinks, somewhat thrown by the question – they do sting quite a bit, but he will be damned if he admits that her unorthodox attack had wounded him. "No," he denies stiffly.
Maybe the fact that she is now dry and warm and therefore, feeling a great deal better, makes her braver, but Sakura risks raising an eyebrow at him thoughtfully. "Really?" Unfazed by his repressive gaze, she gently pulls a thin sheet of mint-green chakra to her hands. "You know, I could…"
The movement pulls at the thin scars, but Itachi crosses his arms. "That will be unnecessary," he rebuffs coolly, because the thought of her hands on the sensitive skin on the insides of his arms makes his nerves tingle in a somewhat unpleasant way, but he tempers his words with a small smirk. "Besides, I thought you hated me, Sakura."
Sakura fidgets uncomfortably at the reminder of her earlier words; true, after he had countered all of her attacks and subdued her with such ease in the museum, she had been livid enough to have happily torn his eyeballs out and broken all of his ribs, if given the opportunity. But in all honesty, it's kind of hard to summon those strongly resentful feelings of deep and vicious hatred after such a long and tiring day…especially after they had run into each other so coincidentally, and he had given her a warm towel and a hairdryer. Not to mention that he had also, after all, saved her life just about twenty-four hours ago.
Besides, surprisingly enough, there is nothing remotely confrontational about Itachi's manner right now; he seems content to just watch her like she is an interesting puzzle to be solved, waiting for her answer.
"Fine," Sakura admits grudgingly, rubbing at her tired eyes. "I guess I don't really hate you. I was just…very unhappy."
Infuriatingly enough, something that could pass as amusement flickers in his gaze. "Indeed."
Biting back a yawn, Sakura heads for the door; this may be the only remotely civil contact she's had with a person who may even be called an acquaintance, at this point, in the last six months, and she hates to admit it, but it is kind of sort of pleasant to actually talk to somebody. But the fact remains that she is bone-weary, because it has been one rough day, and she has no intention of spending the remaining two hours of it having a late-night chat session with Itachi, of all people – kami, the path her life has taken just keeps leading her down stranger and stranger roads. "Do I have your permission to leave now?" Sakura asks pointedly.
Itachi briefly considers saying no, just to see her reaction, but he sighs a little, joining her at the door, before unlocking and opening it. "Good night, Sakura," he says, on instinct, because despite everything else, his mother had raised him to be a well-mannered young man.
Sakura, on the other hand, looks unimpressed with his politeness, instead choosing to give him a dubious look as she steps quietly out of the room. "…Good night, Itachi," she mumbles, at last.
She feels the weight of his eyes on her back as she takes the few steps back to her dark and pathetic broom closet of a room, before shutting and locking the door behind her, leaning back on it with a sigh. After a few moments of trying to nurse the raging headache that is threatening to develop, Sakura leaves the door and collapses on her ratty mattress and broken bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly as she pulls the thin sheet that serves as her blanket around her body.
Despite her exhaustion, sleep eludes her, and for the life of her, Sakura can't stop thinking about how damned weird this is. Itachi had left Konoha five, almost six years ago at the age of fifteen, and since then, the respective Hokages have sent at least one or two separate hunter squads after him every other week. None of these teams, all of them comprised of the best hunters that Konoha had to offer, had ever gleaned so much as a mere sighting of the elder Uchiha – and now, inexplicably enough, she, of all people, keeps encountering him in the strangest of circumstances. This makes it, what, three times in the space of twenty-four hours?
Sakura turns on her side, punching her hard mattress moodily and causing it to leak yet more stuffing. It has to be just freakish coincidence that is motivating her meetings with the infamously criminalistic, lethally dangerous, and formerly dead elder brother of her former teammate, because…well, because she simply refuses to entertain any other possibility.
She consoles herself with the thought that this past day has literally held a lifetime's worth of close encounters of the freaky kind with Itachi – hell, she had been alone in his bedroom, and despite his carefully nonthreatening behavior, it was still a really unsettling experience – after all, she's probably going to wake up tomorrow, check out of the inn, and head for the next town north in search for a new assignment, and then never see Itachi Uchiha ever again. And, within a few months, when she runs into Naruto again, or maybe Lee and Tenten, she can tell them about this, and they will all laugh and marvel at the sheer surreality of all of it.
Now sufficiently comforted, Sakura buries her head in her pillow and finally drifts off to sleep, where, thankfully enough, it is guaranteed that she will have some peace, if only for a few hours.
-
On the other side of the thin walls, Itachi sits on his bed; his back is propped up against a few pillows, and his knees are drawn to his chest, with his arms wrapped around them – it is a pose that Shisui always used to tease him about, but it has also been the one physical habit that Itachi has never been able to break. His eyes are closed, but he is not asleep, and due to that impromptu encounter with a certain unlucky and pink-haired kunoichi, he does not think he will be for a very long time.
(He never used to believe in fate – however, one's perspectives tend to change after being given a completely unexpected second lease on life.)
Almost involuntarily, his crimson gaze flickers toward the wall, and Itachi cannot help but wonder if he should be worried.
-
The Next Evening
-
Sakura knows that she really shouldn't have any reason to be so nervous, and she shouldn't fear the darkness or forests, and certainly not both of them together, because they are both inescapable aspects of life. She has spent the whole day stretching her chakra to its limits, searching for the three people who created this phobia; thankfully, the Root hunting squad does not seem to be anywhere in the vicinity, but then she realizes that she hadn't been able to sense them last time, either.
The room in which the contractor had told her to meet him is at the highest floor of the solid stone fortress, and Sakura has built up a great deal of stamina over the past six months, but this is her third assignment of the day, and her feet hurt. The fortress is still and cold and far too austere and remote, but she supposes that if she had made an enemy out of a few members of a notorious crime syndicate and they were hell-bent on assassinating her and everyone in her family, she would want to feel protected, too.
The door is reinforced with solid steel, enough to make even her knuckles tingle slightly as she knocks thrice, before stepping back and waiting for her summons. Instead, the door swings open seemingly of its own accord, and Sakura steps inside without thinking twice about it, and immediately bows slightly to the contractor, offering a soft greeting. As she straightens, she allows her gaze to flicker about the room, instinctively taking in her surroundings, and—
—oh, hell, no.
She freezes.
Itachi tenses visibly.
The contractor looks back and forth between the two missing-nin he had hired, his curiosity apparent. "Is there a problem?" he inquires, sounding slightly bemused at the palpable shift in the mood of the room.
Sakura swallows over her suddenly dry throat. "Not at all," she replies, trying her level best to keep her voice even, as she takes small, unwilling steps to stand beside the elder Uchiha; she refuses to do so much as look at him, instead training her eyes determinedly on the contractor.
For his part, Itachi stares unseeingly out the dark window as the contractor explains their mission one more time, for Sakura's benefit, and his eyes narrow, almost unconsciously. Despite his best efforts, he cannot think of a logical explanation for this – phenomenon (calling it coincidence would be a slight understatement at this point), and it is most irritating, to say the least. He has no degree of personal dislike toward the girl, but being faced with her presence at every possible turn is highly unsettling.
Sakura forces herself to focus on and take in the parameters of the assignment, even though part of her remains hyper-conscious of Itachi's presence at her side. From what she has seen of him so far, the older male keeps his thoughts and emotions guarded to the highest degree, but even she can pick up on the fact that, if only for a moment, he had seemed just as uncomfortable as she does.
It seems like an hour later when the man finally releases them to begin their work as glorified guard dogs, in essence, and Sakura fleetingly wonders if she could feasibly jump out the window into the grounds below in an attempt to avoid what is sure to be a long and painstaking walk through the fortress and down into the forest with Itachi, but there are solid iron bars on the windows, and it would be a pain to rip them out and then have to pay to have them re-installed.
Itachi is most certainly never easily entertained, but as he wordlessly walks over to the door after the contractor's dismissal and holds it open for her, he can practically sense the sudden and almost alarming spike in her heart rate as the door closes and the two of them suddenly find themselves alone on the dark flight of stairs. It is enough to make him smirk slightly – the fact that she is unnerved by him is predictable enough, but he finds her attempts to hide that fact under a cool façade to be truly amusing.
It is the little things that give her away, like the way she carefully plasters herself against the opposite wall as they make their way down the stairs, the silence heavy between them. Sakura's fingers tremble slightly as they skip down the railing, and she bites her lip every so often, despite her best attempts to keep her expression impassive. Itachi fleetingly wonders if their encounter last night had not been enough to prove to her that he really does have no interest in killing her, or whatever it is that she is so afraid of – but he can tell that she is slowly simmering, and this tense silence will not last for long. Idly, he decides that she will crack by the time that they reach the perimeter of the dark forest, and he is not disappointed.
"Why do you keep following me?" Sakura explodes, sounding almost painfully confused, once they have completed half a mile's circuit around the forest and found no signs of intrusion. "Do you have any idea of how creepy this is?"
Itachi turns to look at her almost incredulously, stopping dead in his path. During the course of his life – or, lives – he has been accused of more than his share of undoubtedly heinous crimes, but never anything as ignominious as stalking a teenage girl. "…What?"
Sakura actually grows a few inches due to indignation alone, making it a point to stomp viciously on the nearest pinecone within her reach. "You heard me! Wherever I go, you oh-so-coincidentally turn up, too! Look, Uchiha, I don't know what the hell it is that you want from me, but you're not getting it!"
It is a testament to her degree of self-control that she refrains from shrieking the last four words at the top of her lungs, but the fury in her voice is unmistakable as she glares at him, an action which he returns immediately. "Rest assured that I am notfollowing you, Sakura," Itachi replies sharply, continuing the patrol. "And I most certainly do not want anything from you, either."
Sakura scowls at his back, before quickening her pace a little, to catch up. "But—"
"Coincidence."
The steely bite of his tone masks the tiniest hint of uncertainty, and Sakura sighs to herself, looking into the forest and using her chakra to probe the depths of the area. So he isn't following her – well, not purposely, anyway, and she cannot decide whether it is better or worse this way, but something's not right, and then she realizes what has been bothering her about him since they first laid eyes on each other.
"…So, where's your sharky friend, anyway?" Sakura asks suspiciously.
Itachi blinks, unable to keep himself from envisioning his former partner's physical reaction to such a statement. "Kisame was partnered with Zetsu following my death," he says evenly. "He – and the remaining Akatsuki members, save for the Leader and Konan, are unaware of my…current state."
Sakura stares at him, things slowly starting to make more sense. "So, you're like a secret solo operative now?" she presses.
Itachi does not reply.
Unfazed, Sakura continues on, glad for the opportunity to articulate the questions that have been building up in her head, even if it's to one of the most generally unresponsive people she has ever had the dubious pleasure of conversing with. "I guess that they must be waiting to kind of unveil you for something big, but why are you doing all of these random side missions? They don't seem to have anything to do with any evil plans to gain control of the world…"
Itachi just eyes her for a few moments, giving away nothing.
Sakura looks him up and down appraisingly. "You're replenishing your organization's funds, aren't you?"
"…"
Sakura actually stands on her tiptoes, looking at him as if he is a particularly interesting medical case scenario. "Which means that you must be planning something!"
Itachi closes his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "…Are you fully aware of how irritatingly inquisitive you are?" he asks dangerously.
She actually laughs a little, which definitely had not been the reaction he had been hoping to elicit. "You have no idea how many times I've heard some variation of that statement."
"I believe that says something."
"Yeah," Sakura can't help but smirk. "It says that I'm probably right, hmm?"
Itachi does not deign to reply, for the sake of loyalty to his organization, but Sakura's smile only widens, and she skips ahead of him a few paces, a self-satisfied bounce in her step that hadn't been there before. He deals with it stoically for a few minutes, missing Kisame more and more with each step, because in all the kami, at least Kisame had the dignity befitting a missing-nin…well, most of the time, anyway.
Just because Sakura is looking happy enough to make him bitter, Itachi clears his throat, waiting for her to stop and look back at her. "Forest," he says simply. "Now."
Sakura is unable to keep herself from swallowing visibly, the happiness slowly draining out of her countenance. "…What?"
"It is unlikely that the offenders will skulk around the perimeter – if they are really observing the house in an attempt to identify weaknesses, they will be doing so from inside the bordering forest, where they are more likely to escape detection," Itachi explains, almost patiently.
Sakura knows this is flawless logic, and she hates it, because going back into such unprotected territory in the presence of such company is nearly as high on her list of priorities as actively seeking out her squad of Root hunters, but she can't actually refuse to do it. Itachi lingers in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, obviously waiting for her, and Sakura takes a deep breath to calm herself as she steps forward to join him, and the two of them slip deeper into the forest.
He's not going to hurt me, Sakura tries to assure herself with every breath, all too aware of the silent, dangerous presence beside her. There wouldn't be any logic and reason in it; we're kind of on the same side now, not like yesterday, and he's not going to hurt me…
"Sakura."
His low voice startles her enough to almost make her jump, and Sakura bites her lip to keep herself from gasping. "Yes?"
Itachi regards her calmly. "Your heart rate has accelerated to an easily noticeable level, and your chakra is flaring considerably."
Both of them know why, and this time, Sakura cannot even try to prevent the heated blush that spreads across her face. "Oh. Um. …Sorry."
It takes a good half an hour of concerted effort for her to focus on completely soothing her own breathing and masking her chakra once again, but in the end, it proves to be worth it. She wouldn't say that she feels comfortable around Itachi, exactly, but she lets herself remain a little closer to him without descending into a full-on panic attack. And it would be stupid for her to actually feel anything like safe around him, but Sakura has to admit that she feels less wary about the Root hunters while in his presence. After a while, she even starts talking at him in an attempt to break the ominous, pressing silence of the forest, and Itachi's replies are either nonexistent, monosyllabic, or in extremely short sentences, but it still qualifies as legitimate conversation, and after so much time spent alone, it's an almost pleasant change of pace.
After three thorough sweeps through the forest, and on their way back up the staircase in order to report the lack of criminal activity to their contractor, Sakura starts talking quietly in order to give herself something to do, and in the midst of a random anecdote about a ramen stand of very suspicious quality back in town that should be avoided under all circumstances, she notices Itachi staring at her, and she trails off mid-sentence. "…Um. Wait. You do eat, don't you?" It seems like an asinine question, and she winces, but she doesn't know anything about the resurrection technique that was used on him, and the havoc it could have wreaked on his systems.
"I do not, actually," Itachi deadpans.
Sakura stares; she had prepared herself for it, but it's still a really unsettling thing to hear. "You don't – but how…"
She is such a genuine mix of confused and intrigued that Itachi has to sigh at her naiveté. "Eating is rather expensive," he says, by way of explanation. "Soldier pills are a great deal cheaper and more efficient."
Sakura actually recoils slightly – it's true that Inoichi Yamanaka had given her a bag of them, just in case, but they were to be used in cases of extreme emergency only, and from his attitude, she has the feeling that Itachi doesn't share the same perspective. "Do you know how unhealthy those are?" she hisses, nearly tripping up a stair. "Especially in the case of sustained use—"
Itachi rolls his eyes minutely, and she remembers that he had been an ANBU Captain; of course he knew everything about the pills and their associated dangers.
Sakura changes tack a little, automatically slipping back into what Ino would affectionately call medic-mode. "When was the last time you had real food?"
Itachi actually looks thoughtful for a few moments as he realizes that he actually does not remember. "…At some point prior to my death, I would assume."
Sakura can't help but shudder slightly; the casual manner in which he refers to his death and subsequent return to the world of the living sends shivers up her spine. Itachi smirks a little at her obvious discomfort, before knocking on the contractor's door and stepping back, waiting for them to be admitted in.
To Sakura and her achy feet's relief, he pays them for their services rather quickly, before informing them that he would be interested in hiring them for the two nights as well. The fees aren't spectacular, but both Itachi and Sakura agree, knowing that they cannot very well afford to be choosy in such competitive times.
The second that they are alone again, Sakura wastes no time in giving Itachi a completely and utterly disgusted look. "But that was around eight months ago. Maybe nine."
Itachi raises an eyebrow, obviously asking what her point is.
"You're going to die," she says succinctly. "Again. Not like I care, or anything, but…still." Sakura looks at him curiously, wondering how he's managed to sustain himself on a diet of soldier pills for so long – she's only used the pills twice in her life; they make her sick, and she always overdoses on actual food afterward. "Don't you ever crave real food?"
Itachi smirks humorlessly. "I never crave anything."
"Well," Sakura says, drawing the word out, as they step out of the fortress and she glances toward the scattering of nearby lights that indicates the town that both of them will have to stay in for the next two or three days. She hesitates for a moment, but she cannot deny the fact that she is ravenously hungry, after not having eaten anything substantial in more than twelve hours – or that she may feel just a tiny, microscopic kind of nervous about being alone in the small, crime-infested town. "I'm going to get dinner," she finishes, in a rush, before grabbing her small red-bound book of food vouchers out of her bag and holding it out as proof.
Itachi glances at the book, feeling fleetingly curious. "What is that?"
Sakura sticks the book back in her bag, knowing that in this area, the populace would probably do anything to get their hands on such a commodity. "You'll see," she replies mysteriously, and allows herself a small smile of triumph when, after a few moments and seemingly casually, Itachi matches his step to hers.
-
Sakura literally has not stopped cringing since she set foot into the town's boundaries, as the first thing they saw was one man getting viciously knifed in the gut and then robbed during a bar fight that had spilled outdoors. She has seen more than her share of violence in the shinobi world, true, but witnessing that kind of wanton cruelty in mere civilian situations makes her skin crawl. Itachi, meanwhile, does not bat an eyelid – but she knows that his mere presence is enough to prevent any sort of trouble from befalling her, by extension. This makes her scowl, a little, and not for the first time, Sakura wishes that she were a little more physically imposing.
To her dismay, most of the outdoor eateries are of quality that would never stand a chance of passing a standard health inspection, and the patrons at the others are undoubtedly people that Sakura would normally choose to stay at least a mile away from, just in case.
"Do you have any preferences?" Sakura asks Itachi a bit shakily, after she hears somebody's bloodcurdling scream, in the distance.
Itachi gives her a look that tells her she should know better, and Sakura rolls her eyes at him, even while avoiding a row of slumped bodies on the side of the road that smell of strong drink. She casts her gaze around a little desperately, wondering if they will ever find anything passable, before her eyes finally light on a dimly-lit shrimp tempura shack. Mentally taking note of the restaurant's name, she turns to Itachi abruptly, before stepping close to his side and flipping open the book of vouchers discreetly. She finds it within a short period of time, and sighs with relief, before tearing out two of the coupons and leading him up to the restaurant. "Could you get a table?" she asks, before heading to the counter, vouchers in hand.
Itachi eyes the outdoor establishment distastefully, before finding a distant spot on the counter that is as far away from the other patrons – gang members, from the insignia on the back of the cloaks they wear, he notices detachedly – as possible. He observes Sakura's brief interaction with the chef through veiled eyes; the young man looks far too interested in her, but he does not try anything suspicious. After inspecting the two vouchers that she hands him closely, he leaves, and only returns when he has two steaming plates of shrimp tempura.
Sakura joins him, looking rather self-satisfied, and slides his plate over. "And that's what they do. There are some towns where you can't find a restaurant that applies to the terms of the voucher, but most of the time, this is how I eat."
"Thank you, and that does sound very…convenient," Itachi allows evenly, before taking a tentative bite of his shrimp tempura. After so long of existing on soldier pills alone, it is a sensory overload in every possible way, and he lets his eyes slip shut in order to hold on to the startling taste.
When he opens them again, after having thoroughly chewed and swallowed, he catches Sakura looking at him, obviously amused. "See?" she says smugly. "My way is better."
"I was unaware that it was a competition," he replies smoothly, but as he eats, Itachi is forced to admit that he had forgotten how what an overwhelmingly pleasant feeling it was.
They complete the rest of their meal in silence, each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, but after Sakura finishes her remaining little bit of lemonade, she leans back on the chair, allowing herself to relax slightly. "Where are you staying tonight?" she asks, out of curiosity.
Itachi looks amused, for all of a moment. "Why, Sakura, were you interested in visiting?" he returns sleekly.
Sakura pales, and then turns five shades of alarming red in rapid succession, because hell, she may be lonely, but not like that. "Wait – what – no! It's not like that! I just wanted to make sure that…oh, never mind," she trails off, too flustered to even attempt finishing the sentence.
Deciding to cease tormenting her, Itachi sighs a little. "There is only one inn in this town, in any case," he replies, looking over to a run-down nearby building. The door is open, and in the small makeshift lobby, a few other gang members wearing insignia on their backs identical to the ones that had been at the eatery earlier are loitering around the desk, passing around a tall, green glass bottle.
Sakura blanches slightly, slipping out of her chair. "I'm not spending the night there," she says, too quickly, remembering the last time she had made such a mistake – it had been a month after she had left Konoha and stupidly, she hadn't known any better. She isn't going to forget that experience, and even months afterward, her skin crawls at the memory.
For a split second, Itachi considers asking why as he joins her seemingly aimless walk away from the restaurant, but then he sees the expression on her face and eyes her again – she is pretty, even though she is far too young for such things, but then again, he supposes that some men would like that. "Well, where are you staying?" he asks evenly, even though it should be none of his concern.
Sakura stops in her path suddenly, before turning her neck and peering cautiously into a dimly-lit, deserted alley. After a few moments of deep inspection, she finally points. "There."
Itachi follows the path of her gaze. "…You intend to spend the night inside a waste receptacle?" he asks, a few faint notes of incredulity creeping into his normally impassive voice.
"Not inside it!" Sakura says indignantly, wrinkling her nose at the very prospect. "Behind it."
Itachi has to admit that it is a decent hiding place – to any passerby, she would be completely invisible in the darkness, and she is petite enough to fit there with ease, if she presses her back up against the brick wall and keeps her knees close to her chest.
Itachi is a killer, but contrary to popular belief, he does have a conscience. It speaks in his mother's voice, and right now, she sounds absolutely horrified at the very prospect of Sakura's suggestion. Unaware as to his small inner conflict, Sakura turns back to him after resigning herself to her less-than-ideal circumstances. "Well, I guess I'll see you some time tomorrow," she says uncertainly, checking the space behind the Dumpster for roaches.
Purchasing both of them separate rooms would be inordinately expensive, and then there is still the chance that she would be unsafe. However, sharing a room would have decidedly inappropriate implications, which would make her probably misunderstand if he asks her anyway, but some small part of him insists that it is worth a try, nevertheless. Itachi isn't sure exactly how he makes the awkward suggestion, but within a few moments, Sakura is staring at him blankly, like she can't decide whether to accept or act on the flight part of her fight or flight instinct. "…Um," she says, at last, and looking as if she wishes that she could be somewhere very far away from here. "That's…really kind of you and all, but I think I'll be fine out here tonight. Thank you, anyway."
Itachi regards her with an inscrutable expression in his eyes, before nodding finally, and stepping away. "Good night, Sakura."
Sakura echoes the sentiment weakly, before heading to the back of her 'waste receptacle.' Good night indeed. The floor and the brick wall against her back are cold as she crawls into the tight space, before curling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them glumly. It smells weird back here, even though she knows that she will be safe, because even the lowest of lowlife criminals isn't low enough to go poking around the back of a Dumpster.
Within half an hour, she is kind of already wishing that she had accepted Itachi's offer – hell, she hadn't known what to think then; it had just seemed so utterly surreal. Dinner with him could have even been considered nice, but in the past eight months, Sakura has learned not to trust easily, especially not an S-ranked criminal whom she had grown up thinking was the essence of all evil. After Danzou had forced Kakashi-sensei to make the report detailing their failed hunt for Itachi and Sasuke, and Kakashi had informed him of Itachi's death, though, Danzou had told all of them the truth about the circumstances leading up to the Uchiha massacre – he had seemed to find the irony rather amusing.
That had changed things, but just because the truth came out, meaning Itachi was not the person she and the rest of Konoha had thought he was, doesn't mean that she's going to start trusting him all of a sudden; he's still performed countless crimes against her country and its interests, as an Akatsuki member. But maybe she has nothing to fear from him on that front, Inner Sakura points out, and Sakura is forced to acknowledge that Itachi has had his fair share of opportunities to take advantage of her, which he has never acted upon. And there's nothing about him that suggests he wants that kind of thing, anyway. If anything, aside from that encounter in the supply closet (which he had even apologized for), Itachi seems rather tolerant of her, and making that offer in order to save her from an unsavory night behind a Dumpster could possibly qualify as…considerate.
Sakura sighs moodily, burying her face in her arms, while somebody screams in the distance. It's going to be a hell of a night.
-
The Next Evening
-
Sakura Haruno has never felt so physically terrible in her life.
She had woken up around eight in the morning, only to find that her body had descended into the state of utter grossness that only bodies curled up behind Dumpsters all night can ever achieve. While, under normal circumstances, she would head off to perform some kind of minor assignment within the town until her main assignment later in the night, she had spent literally the entire day looking for a place to brush her teeth and take a decent shower.
In the end, she had broken into a room at the shady inn, and after triple-checking to make sure the guy staying there was going to be occupied with the rest of his gang for at least two hours, Sakura had finally gotten her blissful, welcome shower and generally freshened up. After that, she had found a vandalized building that had once been a school, and hidden in it until the appropriate time that she had to report to the fortress for her mission. She is hungry, her forehead seems to have a permanent indentation on it from where she had slumped against the rough metal of the Dumpster, her skin and hair still smells like an odd mix of old, festering Chinese takeout and fresh mountain strawberry, even after the hot shower, all of her muscles are sore beyond belief after spending the night in such an utterly comfortable position, and she has a terrible headache from lack of proper sleep, as well.
"How are you?" Itachi inquires impassively, once they have returned to their usual business of searching the forest for assassins sent by the crime syndicate.
Sakura glares at him balefully. He looks well-rested and his movements are as languidly graceful as always, and he smells like pine and spearmint, and not like old Chinese food (the contractor's nose had twitched in a puzzled way as soon as she had entered the room), and damn it, it makes her angry. "I spent the night behind a waste receptacle," she hisses irately. "How do you think I am?"
Itachi makes an indistinct noise in the back of his throat as he inspects a few footprints left on the forest floor. "If I remember correctly, you were not forced to spend the night behind a waste receptacle."
His tone carries the barest hint of smugness, and Sakura actually growls aloud, subsequently refusing to talk at him for the rest of the evening. Itachi doesn't mind the quiet, but after their shift is over and they have been paid, he sniffs the still air as the two of them step back outside. "Two-week-old Manchurian shrimp, yes?" he asks impassively, as if he has not been trying to identify the scent since they first began patrolling the forest.
Sakura blushes hotly. "Maybe."
They walk together in silence for a little while, only because they are headed in the same direction and it's just a matter of convenience, anyway, before Itachi narrows his eyes as he notices her reaching into her bag for her book of food vouchers. "No, Sakura."
"But—" she begins, although the look on his face quells her instantly, and she fidgets somewhat. "…Just…no Chinese food, all right?"
In the end, Itachi settles on a Chinese restaurant, just because he can, but Sakura insists on sitting as far from the open shrimp dishes as possible, while giving him dirty looks as she eats her vegetarian noodle dish.
"You're mean," she tells him superciliously, as she sets her chopsticks down. "And unnecessarily vindictive."
Itachi blinks – if he recalls correctly, the last time anybody had called him mean was when Sasuke had been six, and he had gotten rather angry after Itachi walked in on him trying on his ANBU gear and ordered him to take it off and hang everything back up in the closet. He sighs slightly, before standing up from his chair. "I do not necessarily contest your statement, although I am willing to walk you to your…waste receptacle."
Sakura makes a face at just how weird that sounds, before joining him. They walk for a while in nearly comfortable silence, and she idly wonders when and why she had stopped being quite that wary of him…perhaps because he has never personally given her reason to fear him. Then, she looks into the fifth alley past the inn, recognizing her Dumpster. And the smell of rancid two-week-old Manchurian shrimp that seems to emanate from it in waves. Sakura sighs, once again resolving to accept her fate. "Thank you for dinner…Itachi." She doesn't think she will ever get used to saying his name like that, in such casual context.
For his part, Itachi merely raises an eyebrow at the Dumpster, looking very thoughtful. "Sleep well, Sakura."
With that, he retreats back around the corner and vanishes, and Sakura tentatively steps further into the alley, before dropping to her knees and getting ready to crawl into the small space between the waste receptacle and the wall…
And then, just like that, she gets what may possibly be the shock of her life.
Sakura bites her lip to stifle a scream, and then falls backward, unable to believe that she had almost invaded the personal space of no less than four absolutely filthy and evidently homeless men, wrapped in tattered blankets and slumping against each other, all of them smelling strongly of alcohol and various bodily fluids.
Muttering a steady litany of curses under her breath, Sakura pulls herself to her feet, careful not to wake them – and just where the hell is she going to go, now that these idiots have stolen her Dumpster? Now, she has to wander this less-than-savory town at night, looking for another Dumpster to go hide in, and with her luck, the only other waste receptacle she finds will undoubtedly be filled to the brim with things even more hideous and putrid-smelling than ancient and moldy Chinese food…
Sakura is so absorbed in her mental tirade that she storms out of the alley and around the corner, back into the street without stopping to think. It catches up to her a few moments later, and she takes one step backward, looking at the corner of the dark, dilapidated building disbelievingly. Sensing her eyes on him, Itachi steps back out of the shadows, and raises an eyebrow upon seeing the look on her face. "Yes?"
"My Dumpster was overrun by homeless people!" Sakura glowers, taking a step closer to him. "And you knew, didn't you? You sensed their presences as soon as you stepped into the alley, and didn't see fit to warn me!"
"They are harmless," Itachi replies dispassionately. "You are obviously uninjured, are you not?"
Upon faced with this, Sakura cannot help but blink rapidly.
She hurts all over. She still has an awful headache, and still smells of gross Chinese food. She is all alone in this world, save for being plagued with the constant company of one person, who happens to be the mean and vindictive and criminal elder brother of her first love and ex-teammate – and, indirectly, also the catalyzing factor of just about every event that has shaped the course of her life.
And, on top of that, the one place that she was kind of relying on calling home for the next two nights has been cruelly stolen out from under her feet by four shameless alcoholics.
Almost mechanically, Sakura turns around and begins to walk away. In response to the question in Itachi's eyes, she sighs deeply, figuring that Naruto would forgive her for not being around, if he knew her circumstances. "…I'm going to go and find a river and drown myself."
Itachi rolls his eyes minutely at the sheer volume of teenage melodrama – which even seems to have affected Sasuke, dismayingly enough – and catches up to her within two steps. "My offer still stands," he tells her quietly.
Sakura turns around, and looks up at him for a few long moments, the expression in her eyes inscrutable. Her mind is racing with considerations and thoughts, but the most prevalent is Inner Sakura, telling her that there could be no harm in just taking the chance, damn it. Hell, at the very least, she'll get a warm, safe, nice-smelling room, and the capacity to take a hot shower, and a comfortable place to sleep, and…
Sakura melts visibly at the prospect. "Fine," she sighs, resigned.
Itachi is unable to resist smirking slightly, as they begin the walk back to the inn.
to be continued
Oh snap.
As always, any and all feedback would be extremely appreciated. :)