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Chapter Four: Compromising
In the next instant, the stray pair of chopsticks that Sakura had picked up on the way over clattered to the table. She had warmed up a while ago, but she suddenly found that she had lost all feeling in her fingers. As a matter of fact, she was fairly sure that she had just gone completely petrified, from head to toe.
Itachi was still staring at her, with absolutely no emotion visible in his charcoal-gray eyes – the exact same color and shape as Sasuke's, which she refused to allow herself to think about – and despite her best efforts to be brave, Sakura finally became aware that she was subconsciously pressing herself back against the booth, shrinking as far away from him as possible. Had she been completely insane, wanting to come over here?
"What?" the pink-haired kunoichi finally managed, picking up her chopsticks again and squeezing them in a white-knuckled grip. Her voice was too hoarse and strangled for her liking, but Sakura could feel the blood pounding in her ears, too dizzyingly loud to be healthy: her weakened body couldn't handle this kind of stress as well as she could otherwise.
Itachi lifted an eyebrow dispassionately, obviously unaffected by the show of emotion, as he toyed with a stray piece of salted salmon remaining on his plate. "Sasuke is my younger brother," he said, at length. "I am sure you understand my desire to keep tabs on him."
His voice was so damn noncommittal, so even and unemotional, so robotic, that suddenly Sakura felt her breathing becoming more than a little ragged, her fingers clenching around the edge of the table. Belatedly, she realized that she was a hairsbreadth away from throwing herself at him and locking her hands around his throat and squeezing every last cubic inch of air out…until her body had met with the obstacle of the table. Her ribs ached from where she had just slammed against it.
Something unreadable flickered in Itachi's eyes, telling her that he was very well aware of the emotions that were probably written all over her face right now. That wouldn't do. The plan would never work if he thought she was an unstable wild card who was just waiting for the moment that he let his guard down.
It took a few painfully deep breaths and a concentrated effort for Sakura to relax, delicately removing her fingers from their death grip around the table and folding them demurely in front of her. "Yes, very understandable," she murmured, forcing the words to come out coherently.
For a few long moments, they both sized each other up, and at last, for the briefest of moments, Itachi couldn't help how his lips thinned into a shadow of a smirk. It was gone in the next second, replaced by the customary emotionless façade, but…really, he could count the amount of fortunate happenings in his life with one hand, if that. It seemed as if this chance encounter could certainly serve to his advantage in a way that was nearly incomprehensible in its magnitude. He could already foresee the angle that Sakura was going to play, and he owed it to her to make it as easy as possible.
…Besides, Itachi knew that the barely restrained look of desperate longing that was currently lingering in Sakura's eyes as she watched him nudge his remaining onigiri around his plate was impossible to fake. It was almost pitiful; he supposed that she was a pretty girl, but right now, she was looking startlingly reminiscent of a starved dog.
Every single one of his instincts were screaming at him to slide the plate over to her, or better yet, to walk up to the bar and order Sakura a large plate of everything on the menu, but that would hardly be the proper course of action. Itachi made himself set the chopsticks aside, returning to observing his unlikely dining partner, who was staring at him apprehensively. This was truly strange – he suspected that Sasuke was using Sakura to lure him into some sort of trap (a viable idea, but he found it somewhat disturbing to believe that Sasuke would have actually starved Sakura into this pathetic state in order to make her appear more pitiable and vulnerable), but he could not sense even a fragment of Sasuke's chakra signature – not in the bar, or even in the entire town. Itachi had a decent amount of respect for his younger brother's abilities, but even he had to admit that that kind of advanced chakra-concealment technique was still far beyond Sasuke's capabilities.
"Sakura," Itachi commented, trying his best to ascertain the situation. "What brings you so far away from Sound?"
There was nothing she could lose by telling the truth, but even the idea made her wince a little. It was probably unreasonable on her part, but it felt like telling Itachi what had really happened made her even more vulnerable to him in some way.
Inner Sakura smirked wryly. Look at you, Sakura, she commented. Your chakra is almost totally depleted, and you're slowly wasting away from starvation. You are vulnerable, in pretty much every way.
"Long story short," Sakura said, making herself sound as effortlessly calm as possible…which was rather hard to do, what with Itachi staring her down like that. She didn't think that he was trying to be intimidating, but his reputation was enough to make her feel stiff with unease. "I didn't necessarily agree with the…agreement that Sasuke was willing to make with the Otokage…Orochimaru, so I tried talking him out of it. Orochimaru didn't like that, so he wanted to get rid of me – but his personal medic-nin, who's been training me for the past four years, spared my life by knocking me unconscious and dumping me so far away from Sound that I couldn't possibly find my way back."
Something in her little speech sent distinct alarm bells off in his head, and Itachi felt his shoulders tense up. Not only had his original estimation of the situation been completely wrong, which did not happen often, but…agreement? What agreement had Sasuke made with Orochimaru? He had been disgusted and disappointed that his younger brother had chosen to abandon Konoha and seek the training of Orochimaru, that abomination – but he had been under the impression that Sasuke would simply learn from him and then leave when he had learned all he could learn, not make any sort of agreement with him. Something like that would certainly be on an equal magnitude of selling one's soul, and considering his own experiences with Orochimaru, Itachi didn't even want to think about the ideas that monstrosity was feeding to Sasuke…
"What agreement?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could think any better of it, and to his dismay, as soon as he registered the look of surprise on Sakura's face, Itachi realized that they were too sharp and far too concerned, and she tilted her head a little to the side, obviously confused. The idea defied logic in every single way, but the way Itachi had said those two words – he actually sounded almost like…he was worried. For whatever reasons, it was obvious that he cared.
Masking her nerves, Sakura tried her best to summon her best Karin impersonation, in the form of a seemingly casual flick of her long pink hair over her shoulder. The same gesture usually caused Suigetsu to lose his train of thought and stare at her red-haired best friend adoringly for a few moments before he came back to his senses, and it had even worked a little when Sakura had tried it on Sasuke once, but Itachi didn't seem to react much – not even when she subtly slid her hands off the table, locking them behind her back and arching her chest towards him just a little. "How interested are you?" she asked coolly.
Her hands were clammy with cold sweat, and Sakura could only hope that she wasn't blushing – aside from her and Karin's usual attempts at flirting with Sasuke and Suigetsu, respectively, they had never undergone any of the special kunoichi training that kunoichi in other shinobi villages had. She had no idea what she was doing, and the fact that she was playing this game with this particular person made her feel more than a little ill.
This time, Itachi's eyes actually flickered over her inch by inch, slowly and thoroughly taking in her artfully tousled mane and…everything else. "Interested enough," he returned quietly.
Sakura fought the urge to squirm and cross her arms over her chest – she didn't know where to go from here. "Alright," she replied lamely.
The silence stretched between them, long and awkward, for a few moments. "I have to admit," Itachi said, after a little while, and the softly spoken words broke some of the tension that had fallen over them during the previous exchange. He wasn't looking at her; instead toying with his onigiri, and Sakura couldn't keep from staring at it. He was deliberately taunting her with it, and her throat tightened at the realization that he probably would make her say it out loud, even though she didn't think she could. "Even considering the strenuous circumstances, I fail to understand how you could have allowed yourself to fall into this position. You trained as a medic-nin specializing in combat techniques; there should be a large market of private contractors who require a hunter with your specialized skills. If not that, you could have made a passable amount of money offering your services as a healer."
Sakura made herself look away from the rice and salmon, redirecting her gaze to some point above Itachi's left shoulder. "The average contractor laughs at the idea of hiring a fifteen-year-old girl," she said bluntly. Admitting it hurt her pride, but she didn't want him to think that she had just aimlessly and helplessly drifted around for the past two weeks, letting herself languish and starve to death. "That happened a few times. The next two times, I refused to demonstrate my techniques on a live human specimen in order to prove myself, which didn't go over well. The next three contractors just slammed the door on my face without saying a word. The one I just tried – well, my technique didn't work properly. My chakra's almost gone; there's not enough to cast a simple genjutsu, let alone kill somebody with a medical technique." She took a deep breath, quickly wondering how helpless and not-threatening she could make herself look while still being believable.
The next memories made her wince a little, though, and abandoning the idea of being seductive; too tired to even pretend anymore, Sakura propped her elbows up on the table and rested her head in her hands wearily. "…And, to be honest, I couldn't bring myself to ask the seventeen-year-old single mother who had been in labor for two days to pay me for delivering her baby. Or to ask the guy who had gotten almost beaten to death for being open about his sexuality to give me money for fixing up his injuries."
Itachi hadn't expecting that, and he blinked. "…Noble," he allowed, finally setting his chopsticks aside and slowly lowering his hands so that they lay flat on the table. "But foolish."
(It was something he would do if in the situation, and he remembered telling his father so, years ago, during a hypothetical conversation that Shisui had sparked. His father had given him a cold, withering look, and told him the same thing that he had just told Sakura.)
"Maybe." Sakura let her gaze drift down to the small, uncommonly narrow table. Despite the conversation, she felt nearly nauseated with nerves. She didn't want to be the one to make the first move, but regardless of their little exchange earlier, she couldn't imagine any relative of Sasuke's propositioning a random girl at a bar. She hadn't known any Uchiha besides Sasuke, but she could imagine that they would only acquiesce to it if somebody really threw herself at them.
Itachi nearly jumped when the girl across from him reached down slowly, deliberately intertwining their fingers together and gently pulling his hand toward her. Sakura seemed to be intently avoiding his gaze, and for all that her fingers were deathly, unhealthily cold, even in the dim light, he could see the flush on her cheeks. She was obviously painfully uncomfortable, and even though he forced his expression to remain neutral, Itachi was equally ill at ease. It had been years since he had touched or been touched like this. And even though he expected her to initiate contact at some point, it still came as a shock.
Sakura's mind closed away from what was happening; it was the only way to deal with the emotions she felt inside – crushing desperation and intense shame, mingled with almost crippling fear at the situation she was putting herself into. She slid her fingers down to Itachi's wrist, looking down at the floor as she gently guided his slender, long-fingered hand to her face, forcing a slow caress of the contours of her left cheekbone. He didn't move to pull away – as a matter of fact, he curved his palm to fit to her face better – and she pulled it a little lower, closing her eyes. The slight contact felt electric, but not in a completely pleasant way. Itachi's hand was warm; his fingers and palm calloused as they trailed down the side of her neck, finally stopping at the ridge of her collarbone.
Sakura knew that she should probably continue it a little further if she wanted to really sell it, but she felt dizzy and sick, inside and out. When she opened her eyes, Itachi still looked completely unaffected by what had just happened, but he didn't make a move to pull the tips of his fingers away from her collarbone, where she was still limply holding his wrist.
"You could say that I'm a little desperate," Sakura whispered, rubbing her thumb across the sensitive skin at the inside of his wrist. Even she knew that eye contact was essential here, but it was so nerve-wracking that it almost hurt.
Itachi inclined his head a fraction of an inch, and again, she couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. "Your conditions?" he inquired detachedly.
Don't kill me when you get bored. Don't brutally torture me to get yourself off.
"Food," Sakura replied, after a moment. "And…a warm place to sleep. In exchange for…" – she hesitated, unsure of how much to specify – "…well, since your partner seems to be gone, my help in whatever assignment you're undertaking, and my services as a medic-nin…"
Oh, screw eye contact. For the second time that night, she couldn't bring herself to look at him anymore, and Sakura blinked down at the table. "And anything and everything else you want," she finished, so quietly that she could barely hear herself.
Her rational sense and her logic, and the plan that she had formed earlier – well, they all told Sakura that each one of the aforementioned conditions, if she played her cards right, would soon allow her to ascertain Itachi's vulnerabilities and take advantage of each and every one of them. That didn't change the fact that what she had just said made her feel so dirty that a hundred showers couldn't wash it away.
Sakura released Itachi's hand, pulling her arms back to herself and crossing them, looking down at the floor, and for a few moments, the elder Uchiha was lost as to what to do. Needless to say, he had never engaged in any sort of transaction of this nature before. Even though he had gone into it knowing that it was Sakura's plan and he had just followed along for her benefit, it was still…distasteful. She looked so miserable; blinking so hard that Itachi had no doubt she was trying her best not to cry, and he felt inexplicably guilty for even having a part in this.
The fact that she had even come up with a plan of this depth, though, testified to her intelligence – and even though he was not looking forward to the role that he had to play, Itachi knew that even the briefest of slips on his part would not go unnoticed. His plan was at a crucial stage, and any deviations would not do at all. Orochimaru's removal of her confirmed that Sakura's word did hold some sway over Sasuke, and the absolute last thing that heneeded was for her to become suspicious in any way.
Finally, Itachi compelled himself to stand, before holding a hand out to Sakura. The simple, unexpectedly courteous gesture startled her for a moment, although she made herself reach out and take it politely, rising to her feet a little unsteadily.
Now that their 'arrangement' had been finalized, she couldn't help but feel like the silence that settled over them was just heavy and awkward, as they made their way through the crowded bar. Every single one of her most primitive survival instincts was screaming at Sakura to run while she still could; it felt like, with every step forward, she was sealing another nail in her coffin; condemning herself to some kind of nightmarish fate.
A vision of Sasuke's face flitted through her mind's eye, though, and Sakura winced. She couldn't. This could be the only chance she would ever have to help him with something this monumentally important.
She was so lost in thought that she almost didn't register stepping outside, until the wall of bitter cold veritably slammed her in the face. Sakura flinched back before she could stop herself; it felt ten times worse than it had before, since she had just spent so long inside the bar. Maybe it actually was a stroke of luck that she had found Itachi – if she had to retire back into the elements for the night; it would probably have killed her.
Almost as if he had read her mind, Itachi reached out, locking a not unpleasantly tight but still thoroughly unwelcome grip around her wrist as the two of them silently continued down the streets. It was as much a possessive gesture as it was a warning; in sharp contrast to her own weakened state, Sakura could just feel the dark, incredible strength – unlike anything she had ever experienced before – of his chakra simmering beneath every centimeter of skin.
Passing the row of expensive restaurants and experiencing the heavenly smells that continued to permeate the air around them was only slightly less agonizing this time around, and Sakura bit her chapped lower lip hard as her head spun mercilessly with hunger. It made her dizzy, and if Itachi hadn't been holding onto her, she might have actually fallen. Maybe he'd be merciful and order her some food first – or maybe, if his older brother was as sadistic as Sasuke suggested, he would make her hold up her end of the bargain before he extended his.
Sakura willed the thoughts away. It wouldn't do to freak herself out even more about this; she could have a nervous breakdown right now, without the added provocation.
After what seemed like forever, Itachi finally made a sharp left, leading her through the glass doors and into the expansive lobby of one of the numerous hotels that lined the town's side streets. From one glance, Sakura could tell that it was one of the higher-end establishments: chandelier, expensive gold décor, plush red carpeting. The clerk sitting behind the large, hand-carved oak desk was an elderly man who practically exuded pretentiousness out of every pore of his being – he sized Itachi up for a fraction of a second and then looked somewhat approving, but when his gaze drifted down to Sakura, she couldn't help but blush and feel very, very small; he was looking at her as if she was a drowned, mangled street rat, or something equally disgusting.
"Yes?" he asked hesitantly, glancing back over at Itachi.
"I require one room for the night," Itachi replied curtly, and Sakura almost jumped when she felt his hand come to rest on the small of her back.
Again, the clerk's eyes flickered over her with an expression of the deepest distaste, and Sakura felt her fingers curl into a fist, her chest tightening with rage. She had to look down at the floor in order to keep herself from snapping at him. What right did he have, to pass judgment on her – and all the other women who actually had to do this because they had no other choice? "With all due respect, sir," he said, in a tone that was anything but. "This is a classy, respectable establishment, and I do not wish to set a precedent that—"
His voice faltered and trailed off entirely, and even though Sakura couldn't summon the strength or interest to look up, she knew what must have happened. She didn't blame him. Watching gray eyes slowly and dangerously bleed into that deep blood-red color, punctuated by the three sickle-bladed tomoe, was easily one of the most disturbing sights one could witness. Sasuke was fond of using it as an intimidation tactic, and now she knew where he had probably learned it from.
There was a loud scrambling sound, and the clerk practically threw the keys to a room at Itachi. "Have a good night," he said quickly.
Without another word, Itachi turned and stalked off in the direction of the elevator, and even though Sakura had no choice but to follow, she couldn't help throwing another glance back at the clerk. He was staring after them, his hair standing on end from where he had run his fingers through it agitatedly, and this time, when his eyes lit on her – there was no disgust or condemnation, only pity.
The elevator doors slid shut, locking her in with Itachi, and Sakura swallowed, looking at the brightly colored buttons. Well, that only made two of them.
The ride to the top floor was agonizingly long, and even though the room that she finally found herself stepping into was deliciously warm and luxurious in every way, she couldn't keep her hands from shaking with barely repressed nerves. Her throat was closed over and as dry as sandpaper, and Sakura swallowed hard. Her back was to Itachi, but she heard the click of the lock, and her heart hammered a few times, before promptly sinking down somewhere into the region of her stomach. The pink-haired kunoichi knew that she should probably turn and look at him, but her rigid muscles had completely locked up.
Itachi looked her over quietly, without making even a single move to bridge the distance between them. She was trying to be brave, that much was obvious, but the fear and apprehension were radiating off her in waves so strong that they were almost tangible. Perhaps it was just because it was the end of a long, hard day and the worry about Sasuke was making him unusually sentimental, but something about it tugged at his heartstrings a little. Some instinct told him that Sakura wouldn't scare easily, and the dark-haired shinobi couldn't help but wonder what exactly Sasuke had told her about him.
Every one of Sakura's instincts were hyper-sensitized, but still, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Itachi's hands come to rest on the curve of her waist – she hadn't even felt him approach, and she went stock-still at the way he rubbed his thumbs, almost gently, along the contour of that part of her body. Perversely enough, the touch was half-comforting and half enough to make her skin crawl. Still, she closed her eyes and tried her best to even her breathing. Running the risk of offending him was not an option.
Somewhat mechanically, Itachi continued the actions for another five seconds exactly, before slowly withdrawing. His heart wasn't in it – could never, would never be in it, he supposed – but even more so at this moment. Compartmentalization was how he had survived the past ten years, but right now, he could not even manage that.
Sakura finally turned around, looking up at him inquisitively; the look in her large, expressive eyes made it clear that she was trying hard not to dare to hope, and Itachi made himself nod a curt dismissal at her, indicating the adjacent bathroom with his free hand. "You may go and warm up," he instructed stiffly.
It was only a temporary reprieve, but it was enough, and hardly believing her luck, Sakura escaped as fast as possible, ducking into the bathroom quickly and shutting and locking the door behind her before she finally allowed herself to lean against it, exhaling a long sigh of pure relief. The bathroom was almost the size of a normal bedroom, and brightly lit; the marble beneath her feet artificially warmed by some kind of heater. It had been so long since she had been in a proper bathroom that was more than the primitive, tiny and shack-like (and totally filthy) outhouses along the sides of roads that Sakura actually pressed her hand to her chest, so grateful and overwhelmed that she found it difficult to breathe for a moment.
But then she turned to the large, glamorously lit mirror, and her breath caught in her chest. Her first instinct was to look away, but she couldn't – the sight was so horrible that it was fascinating, and this time, she couldn't blame it on the harsh, bright lighting. Kami, no wonder the clerk had mistaken her for some kind of crack whore, because with her pale, ashen skin, chapped lips, unhealthily thin frame, unkempt, tangled hair, and bloodshot eyes, she looked the part. Sakura unzipped her vest hastily, shrugging out of it and tossing it on the fancy marble vanity, and soon followed it with her skirt, before unfastening her knee-high boots and kicking them aside. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest and staring into her miserable-looking reflection apprehensively.
As unquestionably gross as it was to admit it, she hadn't showered in two weeks; not since the morning she had last been in the Sound base, and there was a thin layer of grime that seemed to have adhered itself to her skin. She was so looking forward to scrubbing it off – actually, at the moment, her nerves be damned, Sakura would almost gladly trade sex with Itachi for the simple luxury of being clean and full of food.
But suddenly, the unpleasant realization hit her: she didn't have any fresh clothes – or, even more pressingly, underclothes – to change into after her shower.
Sakura groaned aloud into the stillness of the bathroom, raking her fingers through her hair as she turned her back to the mirror, and for the first time, now that all of her worries weren't exclusively centered on when she could be warm and well-fed again, she fully realized the practical difficulties of her situation. Wearing the same clothes and underclothes for two weeks was downright disgusting, and made her a prime breeding ground for all kinds of things she didn't even want to think about, but…it wasn't like she had any more options. Perhaps the only course of action was just to cheapen herself even more and ask Itachi for straight cash after this night was over.
Fighting the urge to swear under her breath, Sakura closed the stopper on the sink and filled it up with the hottest water that the faucet could provide, before removing her underclothes as fast as possible and tossing them into the heated mini-bath, sweeping her vest and skirt in as well. Several liberal pumps of the rich, patchouli-scented soap bottle next to the sink, and that was taken care of. As a medic-nin, the pink-haired kunoichi was able to testify better than most how unhygienic all of this was, but maybe the near-boiling water would clean and sterilize everything adequately. After ten more rounds of washing. Maybe. Actually, scratch that. The clothes would be salvageable, but the underwear would have to be burned for sure.
Refusing to allow herself to think about what she would wear out of the bathroom once she was forced to leave it – her filthy, in-the-process-of-being-cleaned clothes were completely out of the question, as was the thought of strutting out naked – Sakura stepped into the marvelously oversized tub, pulling the thick emerald-green curtain firmly shut.
The shower was blissfully high-pressure, and the water so steaming hot that it actually made her sigh out loud in relief. Between scrubbing every inch of her hair and body so hard that her skin was raw and flushed, and sampling each of the row of exotic-scented soaps and hair care products, Sakura lost track of time. It was funny, how this simple luxury was something she had taken so much for granted in the Sound base, but now, it made her weak-kneed with gratitude.
It was only the thought of saving hot water for the other residents of the top floor that finally motivated Sakura to grudgingly shut off the shower. It was alright, though – she felt like she had been thoroughly and completely defrosted. Even after she whipped the curtain aside, the bathroom was still nearly opaque with scented steam, and somewhat awkwardly, she reached across to the towel rack and managed to wrap a thick black one around herself as modestly as possible, stepping out of the tub. At least it wasn't one of those stupid tiny ones; fortunately enough, it fell almost to her knees and resembled a decent strapless dress. Albeit one that could be pulled off her with one simple hand movement.
Unwillingly, she envisioned it, and Sakura actually felt her empty, empty stomach heave at the very thought; her shoulders shaking hard as she wrapped her arms around herself, folding forward for a few moments. Partly just to defer the frightening idea of stepping outside, she slowly straightened and twisted her hands around the length of her hair and wrung the excess moisture out, her eyeballs jumping around the bathroom and scanning it like a nervous animal. Regardless of the fact that she actually looked somewhat normal again after the shower, it wasn't a flattering thing to compare herself to, but—
Sakura's gaze lit on something there that wasn't before, and she actually jumped back, unnerved. Her warm, damp feet skidded on the marble floor, and she stumbled, slamming into the towel rack. It was a simple black t-shirt, lying neatly folded on the vanity next to the sink, and a pair of somewhat battered-looking, worn gray plaid pants. Both easily far too large for her, but…they would fit Itachi perfectly.
Her mind reeled, and Sakura looked over at the door so fast that she nearly cricked her neck. Locked from the inside. She hadn't heard the door open. How had he…?
She felt herself lifting her hands to her forehead, overwhelmed, and there was a sound escaping her throat that was something between a whimper and a choked sob, and Sakura slowly slid to the floor in a heap, her back still pressed to the wall. She buried her face in her hands, curling up and trying to make herself as small as possible, as for the first time, the grim reality of the situation really hit her. She was one flimsy door away from the man whom she hated, feared, and distrusted most in this world, and she was naked, vulnerable, and entirely at his mercy. Her plan determined on a few crucial conditions, and if Itachi didn't act according to her best approximations…
Sakura gulped weakly, resting her forehead on her knees. She could feel the sour bile rising in her throat, and she swallowed determinedly, her fingers scrabbling back against the wall as she sought more purchase to rise. She couldn't stay in here forever; she wasn't a coward, and she wouldn't hide like one. She had to get out there and face whatever was to come.
Still feeling a little shaky on her feet, Sakura balanced herself against the vanity, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the material of the outfit Itachi had left for her as she shrugged out of the towel. It almost hurt to put them on – it smelled pleasantly of a vague mix of pine, spearmint, and smoke, similar to Sasuke's own unique scent, which made her heart ache enough, but the clothes were soft and worn with use, and her nerves tingled unpleasantly at the thought of sharing something like this with him, of all people. Not to mention the whole not-wearing-underwear thing was like seventy more different kinds of strange and uncomfortable.
With one last, apprehensive look into the mirror – her complexion had taken on a rather ashen look again, but there was nothing to be done about that – Sakura finally cracked the door open and slipped out, looking around in trepidation.
The first thing she registered was the smell; fragrant enough to make her eyes nearly cross in delight. She had to reach out and grab the wall suddenly in order to steady herself, and Sakura blinked at the floor in front of the bed, trying to figure out whether she was hallucinating. Itachi, dressed similarly to her, was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the bed, but that wasn't what was drawing her attention. It was the several plates of food, and tall glass of chilled water placed at the side; about five feet away from him. Room service, apparently: onigiri filled with umeboshi, mackerel coated in miso sauce, curry rice, shrimp tempura, a large bowl filled with spicy-scented ramen noodles…
The small part of Sakura's brain that was still thinking logically was beyond ecstatic. Itachi was acting according to plan – after even one half of that spread, her strength would return; her chakra with it. And after that, the tables would definitely be turned. In such close quarters, she was guaranteed success. All she had to do was eat and then, logically enough, put herself in a position of having to thank him for his generosity and uphold her end of the bargain. Perhaps it was the fact that victory was in sight, but the thought didn't fill her with fear now. After all, it was Itachi who would be the most vulnerable when it was time for that scenario to play itself out…not her.
It was difficult, but Sakura made herself wait, looking over at Itachi cautiously. Even though the luscious scent of the food made her lightheaded and even dizzier than she had been outside, this could possibly be a trap, and she didn't want to take that risk. After a few agonizing moments, without looking up from the thick black, unmarked book that was in his lap, the elder Uchiha inclined his head a fraction of an inch, and Sakura wasted no time situating herself with her back against the bed, facing the remarkable array of food in front of her.
It was heaven. There was no other way to describe it. She forced herself to take small bites of everything, rotating between plates, and chew each of them thoroughly, even when every single one of her instincts was screaming for her to just shove it down as fast as possible. From the discreet glances that Itachi sent her way every once in a while, Sakura was fairly sure that between mouthfuls, she was moaning aloud with some degree of near-orgasmic pleasure, or making a wide array of similarly mortifying sounds, but…it was so good. So incredibly, unbelievably good. And if he was going to judge her, well, he could just go suck it, because the pink-haired kunoichi was fairly sure that the great Itachi Uchiha had never suffered the danger of losing his life through slow and painful starvation.
It was the weirdest thing she had ever experienced, like suffering a temporary blackout of sorts; her body just went into complete autopilot as it focused on regaining as much sustenance as possible, and when Sakura's conscious mind finally kicked in again, she was a little surprised to find all the plates completely empty, and two of her fingers in her mouth as she slowly, painstakingly licked the curry's delicious remnants off of them.
It was like being alive again. Her heart felt like it was beating normally, and for the first time in what felt like ages, her hands and feet weren't ice-cold, and she could even move her body properly. Sakura could feel the healthy flush returning to her cheeks, and the pounding, agonizing hunger headache that had been a daily part of her life for the past two weeks was gone. She felt so incredibly comfortable and full…like she could just lie down and cuddle up to the floor and have the best sleep that she'd had in half a month.
Even more significant than that, though, was the power that was returning to her; sizzling through her veins and simmering under every inch of skin. It was warm, incredibly strong, familiar enough that Sakura could cry – her chakra. All shinobi took it for granted; even she did before this, but without it, she was nothing. And with it, well…
Subtly, the pink-haired kunoichi experimentally flexed her fingers. Yeah, that was it. Kabuto-sensei had always complimented her on her massive chakra reserves, and Sakura had never fully realized their power until now. The confidence that it gave her was intoxicating, and through the cover provided by her hair, she directed a discreet look over at Itachi. He didn't seem to be aware of the changes that had taken place in her, but that was to be expected. Not only had she quickly engaged an advanced chakra concealment technique that would drastically mute the reading he would get off her, but according to Kabuto-sensei, most shinobi's chakra levels took up to two to three hours to recover even a little after being so completely drained.
Sakura felt something very unfamiliar tugging at the corners of her lips – a smirk. Then again, she wasn't most shinobi.
Itachi had set his book aside and appeared to be looking out the window…perfect. Quickly, under the guise of lifting her arms in a luxurious stretch, Sakura envisioned the schematics of it. She didn't even have to execute a bunch of hand seals – once they were touching, she just had to slowly and unobtrusively make her way to either the back of his neck or his heart, and her chakra was rejuvenated enough that only one pulse directed there would finish him off. If she had learned her lessons well, Itachi wouldn't even see it coming.
Despite herself, her heart was starting to beat a little bit faster out of sheer exhilaration. Sakura took a deep breath, compelling it to slow down, and she lifted her hands from her lap, running them through her damp hair and closing her eyes. She had to calm down, and she had to get in the zone. She only had a rough approximation of exactly how clever Itachi was, and even that was a considerable amount…her acting had to be flawless. If he suspected even a thing, or caught on to it even a second before she could make her move, he would take her with him.
As Sakura watched him through lowered eyelashes, she had to admit Itachi was the most icily unapproachable man she had ever seen – and that was saying something, since she didn't think it was possible for anybody to beat Sasuke on that front. She knew what she had to do, but her body was entirely refusing to comply. Itachi simply radiated 'do not even think about coming close to me', and it was difficult to surmount those kinds of vibes. But she had to get around it somehow.
Just pretend it's Sasuke. How many times had she seen Sasuke in a similarly dark mood, but chosen to risk getting closer anyway? You can do this, Sakura, she told herself bracingly, biting her lip.
Shifting her position from cross-legged to on her hands and knees was surprisingly easy and fluid, and before she could lose her nerve, Sakura inched closer to Itachi. She thought his eyes flickered toward her for half an instant, but she couldn't be sure. She hadn't watched any movies since she had been twelve, but one particularly stuck in her mind – a steamy imported Chinese film that she and Ino had snuck into shortly after they had reconciled in the preliminaries of the chunin exams. Perhaps it wasn't the most credible or realistic source, but she didn't know how to be sexy or seductive; she had nothing else to model herself after.
Her mind was a confused mess, but Sakura made herself think back to that one time six months ago, when she and Sasuke had been on the verge of actually sharing some mutual physical contact. What had she done to try and make herself look…alluring?
She lifted a shaky hand, running it through her long pink locks and smoothing it over her right shoulder carefully. Itachi didn't intend to, but he found that he couldn't help the way his eyes followed the movement for just a moment. His pretense was officially broken; Sakura had captured his notice, and from the way she was looking at him, she knew it. And he knew that this whole performance was just that; a clever façade, but…well, she was talented, and he couldn't help but be fascinated.
Detachedly, Itachi wondered what she was thinking of, to make her eyelids lower like that, so sultry and practically…inviting…as she stared up at him through her long pink eyelashes. The silence between them was broken only by the soft hum of the heating unit in the far corner of the room, and she was close enough that if he turned to the side a little and leaned forward an inch, they could kiss. The thought was foreign and almost completely unprecedented, considering his nature, and mentally, Itachi cringed away from it.
Slightly emboldened by the fact that he hadn't shoved her away, hadn't done anything even remotely threatening, and was even gracing her with the oh-so-wonderful honor of actually making eye contact, Sakura reached forward, extending one hand and reaching across to his opposite cheek, grazing her fingers and palm lightly across his defined cheekbone as she tilted his head slightly toward her. She could have gasped at her own daring, but the adrenaline rush that came with doing something absolutely, insanely dangerous had taken over by that point. Itachi was as still as a statue, and carefully, holding her breath – she knew that any sudden movement, especially toward his heart or neck, would mean death – Sakura moved just a little bit closer, tentatively nuzzling her nose against his cheek, as her heart jumped into her throat.
She couldn't help but think what a strange picture this would make – Itachi, sitting cross-legged and still looking completely unaffected by her ministrations, while she, on her hands and knees, fawned over him like an affectionate kitten. The thought turned her stomach a little, but Sakura tried her hardest to keep her composure, sliding her hand from Itachi's cheek and curving it around one sleek, muscular shoulder, as she angled herself even closer to him as gracefully as she could, tentatively trailing her lips from his nose to his ear. Stray, silken strands from his long ponytail got in her way, and Sakura had to scrunch up her nose to keep from sneezing. This was all so completely strange; setting her nerves on edge in the most unpleasant way. Even though it was the antithesis to what she had been afraid of all along, now she almost wished that Itachi would react in some way.
"Itachi," she whispered, letting her voice linger slowly over each syllable, addressing him by name for the first time. It felt strange on her tongue, but not bad, and Sakura tried her best to put the same inflection in her tone as she did when she talked to Sasuke like this. The same caressing, innocent half-purr. "Please…how can I ever thank you?"
For a few moments, he didn't reply, but then Sakura nearly jumped as she felt Itachi's hand on her back, the light touch pressing her closer to him. Her first instinct was to arch her entire body away from it, but that meant pressing her chest into the side of his body, and that particular idea made her cringe, as well. Unconsciously, her muscles froze up again, and Sakura blinked at the floor, willing herself not to throw up. She was vaguely aware of Itachi tilting his head as well, until both of their foreheads pressed together. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye, not even when she felt him reaching one hand up to gently curl around the side of her neck. His thumb brushed over her pulse, sending a visible shiver through her entire body. "I think you already know, Sakura," Itachi said quietly.
It was obvious that he wasn't trying to be seductive or anything – just stating the cold, hard facts. That, at least, was a small mercy. But this little façade couldn't go any further…it had to end now. This was the closest that she would ever get to the man who had mercilessly slaughtered his entire family, save for one. She had to kill Itachi now, and then find her way back to Sasuke…and pray that he would forgive her for stealing his revenge away from him.
This is it.
Slowly, carefully, Sakura leaned in for a kiss, gently sliding her hands up to anchor themselves behind Itachi's neck.
--And the second they touched the skin there, before she could even think about doing it, an excruciating pain unlike anything Sakura had ever experienced wracked her entire body, petrifying her from head to toe.
She'd experienced pain before. Periodically, Orochimaru would gather the five of them – Sasuke, Jugo, Karin, Suigetsu, and herself – and 'test' them by making them execute torture jutsu on one another. The one who could execute the most powerful technique was always rewarded…but then again, even though Sakura knew that the other four's devotion to Orochimaru was all-encompassing and genuine, unlike her own, she knew that they didn't torture her, or each other, as hard as they could have.
Maybe she blacked out. Sakura wasn't quite sure. But when her eyes opened again, her breath ragged and shallow, it felt like nothing more than a split second had passed. She was practically in Itachi's lap now, curled against his chest, her forehead resting against the base of his throat. It took her body a few moments to react – surprisingly, her rapid-fire instinctive threat response hadn't kicked in; like, for some reason, her body actually felt safe in his arms. Mentally, the pink-haired kunoichi scoffed – whatever had just happened had obviously messed with her mind a little.
But what had happened? Itachi was running his hands down the length of her back, but she couldn't sense any fluctuations in his chakra. He hadn't seemed to have used any kind of torture jutsu on her, and he couldn't have hit a pressure point – if that was the case, she would have no muscle control whatsoever, and would be lying in a limp ball on the floor. But he had done something to her. She didn't know what, but he had done something - probably to warn her off.
…Why would he do that, though? From what Sasuke had told her, Itachi was the type to just…go straight for the kill. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was the stress of the situation, or her nerves, or something. She had never done anything so difficult and potentially dangerous in her life, so maybe her mental state was getting a little unhinged. Either way, it just compounded the sense that she had to get this done, now.
Cautiously, Sakura tilted her head back to look up at Itachi. He was glancing down at her, not seeming in the least perturbed by whatever mental breakdown she had just experienced. Well, that didn't matter. This time, she would make it work.
It felt like it took an agonizingly long time for her to wrap one hand around his long, side-swept ponytail, lightly tugging Itachi down to her. There was no time for trepidation now, and this time, the second that their lips brushed each other's, Sakura wrapped her arms around his neck, executing the one requisite pulse of chakra; as strong as she could possibly make it.
Time stopped in that second; there was no other way to describe it.
But then it went on, like it wasn't supposed to – with Itachi tilting his head just a little, and the really awkward pressure of their tightly closed-mouth kiss getting even more awkward. His lips weren't warm like they were supposed to be, and she could feel his heart beating underneath the too-thin layers of fabric that separated them.
Every instinct in her body screamed for her to jerk away, horrified beyond belief. What had happened? Her chakra never failed. Never. It wasn't possible, for somebody as strong as her, with chakra reserves this strong. And it couldn't be now; not now, of all times…
It put Sakura in an even more uncomfortable position, as she forced herself to press herself closer against him, as a guise to slide her hand slowly, seductively down his leanly muscled chest, pressing it against his heart as she unfolded herself, pressing her chest flat against his – the contact sent unwilling shivers of something she couldn't name deep into her core – so that she was practically on top of Itachi. She made this pulse of chakra even stronger, but again…nothing.
Oh, kami. Her mind reeled, her stomach contorting into a knot, as, unable to force herself to continue the performance any longer, Sakura twisted away from Itachi, practically pushing him away in the height of her panic, falling to the floor and looking at her hands disbelievingly.
He had sealed her chakra earlier; that was the only possible explanation. It was an S-ranked jutsu; one that Kabuto-sensei had told her that only Kage-level shinobi like Orochimaru knew. It was an extraordinarily complicated technique, one designed not to drain someone's chakra, but to literally lock it inside their body, rendering it ineffective. No matter how much chakra you had, if it was sealed by an experienced shinobi…like Itachi…it was useless. Kabuto-sensei had told her that her chances of ever encountering somebody who would use a chakra-sealing jutsu against her were point zero zero one percent.
It was practically enough to drain all the fight out of her. To be that close, and then have her hopes snatched away…and then, to make matters worse, now, Itachi would surely know that she had been trying something with him. But now, she couldn't even do that. Again, she was at his mercy, and that knowledge was enough to make Sakura want to gouge her eyes out with a kunai.
She stayed still, not daring to look up, not even possessing the resolve to make another move. There was no use now. In hand-to-hand combat, her chances were slim to none. Her best option was to wait for him to make a move on her, and hopefully, during the…lapse in strict mental concentration and control that would surely ensue on his part, the sealing jutsu would dissipate. When that time came, she would have to act fast. Now, instead of sending shivers of fear down her spine, the thought just made her feel completely, utterly numb. She had fucked up royally when it came to underestimating her opponent, but it was alright. She would not simply lie down and accept defeat. She was not going to be the bait to lure Sasuke to Itachi, or the toy that he entertained himself with until he went to hunt Sasuke down and try to kill him like he did the rest of his family…or whatever the hell the psychopath intended.
Another opportunity would arise, and when it did, she would strike. And Sakura was unquestionably, undoubtedly sure that, in the end, it would be Itachi who would underestimate her. And in his case (as it wasn't going to be for her) it would be a fatal mistake.
After what felt like a long time, Sakura felt Itachi's fingers pressing against her chin, gently tilting her face upward. His handsome features were, again, as expressionless as she felt.
She made herself meet his gaze fearlessly, but then, before Sakura could even blink, his hands had interlaced with hers – not pulling her back to him, as she thought he would, but instead gently tugging her upward, into a standing position. Itachi rose as well, and Sakura hardly dared to breathe as he guided her over to the other side of the bed, before soundlessly releasing her and padding back to the opposite side.
Sakura stared at the thick, exotically colored dark purple silk bedspread uncomprehendingly, unsure of what to expect, until the one small lamp that had been lighting the room with its dim, faintly comforting orange glow went out.
It was darker than she had expected, and maybe it was just instinct, but Sakura automatically reached for the comforter, drawing it back and somewhat nervously slipping underneath its cover. Her body's first reaction was to relax – the bed was incredibly large and softer than anything she had ever slept in, and the silk pillowcase smelled faintly of lavender, which made her suddenly realize how exhausted she was.
But Sakura made herself lie on her back, as stiff as a board, hyper-conscious of the presence three feet away from her…of whether he would make a move or not.
Eventually, though, Itachi turned away, his back facing her. Something inside Sakura relaxed, the iron hand that had clenched around her chest loosening somewhat, and even before the thought fully formed in her head, she dismissed it. If this was some half-assed attempt to lure her into a trap; it wouldn't work, because she was smarter than that. He wasn't sleeping. The second that she even twitched; that she rose up on her knees and attempted to wrap her hands around his throat…well, she wouldn't underestimate him again. Itachi had reflexes better than the best of shinobi, and if she even tried anything right now, she would be dead before she had even realized that she failed.
Sakura could feel her body begging her to let it sleep. Her eyelids were heavy; her muscles numb and leaden. But as the seconds and the minutes on the digital clock near Itachi slowly ticked by, she tried to force her mind to stay alert and thinking coherently.
Where would she go from here? How could she possibly work this situation to her advantage?
It was no use, though, and by the next breath, exhausted by all the happenings of this vaguely nightmarish day, Sakura had already fallen sound asleep.
to be continued
As always, any and all feedback would be very much appreciated. :)
