Disclaimer: I do not own the series Naruto or any of the characters or concepts within it. I still don't own Onimeno-sensei or any of his 'acquaintances' either; all I lay claim to are the various relatives I've stuck Sakura with.
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Now You See It
Chapter 7: Rhythm
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Some people got explosive when they were angry. Those were the easiest people to deal with, the ones that got it all out of their system early on, like Naruto. Other people, like Shino, never let their anger show and nursed their anger for days weeks, sometimes even years.
Hinata was one of the quiet, slow-burners, about halfway between the two extremes and all the more frightening for the less than happy medium. Sakura was reminded of this now, as her friend drew in slow, calming breaths, as if preparing for meditation. Her pale eyes were positively glittering, flooded by all sorts or emotions, each flickering by too fast for Sakura to properly identify them. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the arms of her chairs, and Sakura would be willing to lay down money that it was taking all she had not to splinter the antique wood.
"So," she spoke at last, her voice barely a whisper. "That rumor was true."
"It was," Sakura agreed, leaning down to wrap her arms around Hinata's shoulders, pressing her face into the other girl's shoulder. "He doesn't know whose eye it was originally, but the rest of the body was unsalvageable when he found it." She tightened her arms when a shudder ran through Hinata's frame. "He needs to talk it over with the Mizukage, but he's willing to make the trade." She paused. "And, if we throw in Kiba, he'll even give us the base work of the protective sealwork he's been using to safeguard it."
"He'll—" Hinata jumped. "Sakura-chan, I can't let you sell your teammate into slavery for the sake of my clan!"
"The Kiba swords you have, Hinata-chan," Sakura corrected, pulling back to grin at her. "I'd sell my teammate for a half-empty jar of umeboshi, honestly. And I may have given him the impression that we had known a bit more than we actually do, and that the swords are the nice way of dealing with this little… situation."
"Bloodline theft," Hinata actually spat out the words, before composing herself. "It must have been intimidating, facing that sort of charge while facing down two obvious doujutsu users."
"I thought Sensei was going to genjutsu him until his brains spilled out of his ears at one point," Sakura admitted. "But I think that was more because he was talking down to me and trying to dictate the terms of trade at the beginning."
"Is that why Honjou-san was being so cold to him?"
"Honjou can forgive any sin of any member of the Haruno clan," Sakura mused. "But the slightest of… uh, slights against the family will live on in his memory forever. I should probably deal with that," she murmured to herself, standing up. "Before he poisons the other servants against the rest of the Kiri-nin."
"Or you could talk to Sasuke-san," Hinata suggested. "Like you said you would."
"I think I'd really rather just duel a Kiri-nin," Sakura said with a nervous laugh. "Like. Like right now, maybe. And I'm sure I'll be exhausted afterwards, just totally wiped, so do you think you could tell Sasuke why I'm not at dinner and that I'm totally not avoiding him?"
"While you're avoiding him?" Hinata clarified, anger finally giving way to disapproval. "Really, Sakura-chan, you're going to hurt his feelings." She paused. "And… well, he sulks when you do that, Sakura-chan. It's hard enough getting him to reach out normally."
"Well, it's not like I can do anything else!" Sakura threw her arms up. "Because I really can't; it's why I gave up on him in the first place. It's why he needs to give up on me. It just won't work, the way he wants it to. I know that and you know that, and Onimeno-sensei has done his best to get it through his thick skull—"
"Sakura-chan."
"—believe me, I would know, he rants to me all the time about wasting his time with Sasuke, like it's my fault—"
"Sakura-chan."
"—but the point stands that even if he thinks a first-generation doujutsu will give way to the Sharingan's genetic legacy, I'm not twelve and in love with him any more and is it really so wrong to not want to risk any of my future kids suffering because of his pigheadedness—"
"Sakura-chan."
"—hell, I don't even know if I want kids, yet, and you told me he's been bent on rebuilding his clan since we were kids—"
"Sakura-chan!"
Sakura looked up, startled, to see that Hinata had risen from her chair and was now gripping her hands gently.
"Sakura-chan, it isn't bad that you don't want to be with him." Hinata looked her straight in the eye, as she had discarded her sunglasses on the nearby vanity some time ago, when she had first decided to break the news to Hinata. "That's your choice, and as long as it isn't what you really want, it's the right decision for you to make. But avoiding him is just… it's mean, Sakura-chan."
Sakura blew out a sigh. "I know." But declining nicely—although, perhaps a little too vaguely—hadn't worked, and her next resort was getting physical about her refusal, the way she still was with Naruto sometimes.
"But you're still going to go challenge the Mist-nin to a fight," Hinata predicted, tiredly.
"But I'm still going to go challenge one of them, yeah." Sakura nodded. "I mean, right now that's the best thing for everybody; Ao's probably not going to be getting very chummy with the servants any time soon, and it's too much to hope Sofu-sama won't hear of it but he probably won't take it too personally. The rest of them, though, they don't deserve that, and there's nothing more honorable than a friendly sparring match in this country. We are trying to promote peace and unity, or whatever, right?"
"You're impossible," Hinata huffed, but a slight smile touched her lips all the same.
"I am pretty great." Sakura gave herself a mental pat on the back.
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The dojo was silent, aside from that thunk of reinforced wood meeting, again and again.
"You're very skilled," Choujuurou complimented as they met yet again, her striking, him parrying. He didn't even sound winded, though they had been going at it for nearly an hour, but then again she wasn't actually feeling much of a strain either. He knocked her bokken away and came back up, aiming for her ribs. She slid back a step and slashed downwards to block him, before retreating.
They circled one another, eyes peeled for any twitch of muscle, any darting look, the slightest sign that the next flurry of attacks was imminent. Sakura's blood was singing in her veins, and she couldn't have wiped the delighted smile off of her face for love or for money. She had even foregone her sunglasses, just so that there would be no chance of the odds being any more uneven than they were already.
She had three 'kills' to his five; they weren't using actual blades, naturally, but the practice ones they were using were weighted and balanced just like the real thing, and they each had bruises forming that stood as testament to the other's strength and ruthless efficiency.
He was smiling too; perhaps he was too caught up to feel self-conscious about his teeth, or perhaps her eyes equaled the scales on that front. Whatever the reason, this idea had worked out even better than she had hoped. Sasuke was the absolute last thing on her mind at the moment, and she was gradually picking up little details about her opponent's style as well.
There were a few times where his hands shifted, as if getting ready to grab a second hilt that wasn't present, for instance. It made her stomach churn with pride, because she was pretty sure that meant he was gearing up to take her seriously, until his brain kicked in and he remembered this wasn't an actual battle.
It happened again and she lunged forward, drawing him into another flurry of quick, clacking attack-defend-respond-repeat. They had agreed to keep chakra technique off the table at the start, but that wasn't as crippling for her as it might have been for other kunoichi her age. Her mother had drilled her in the family styles for years, and Sakura had actually managed to master them.
Her mother had literally beaten off noble lords that wanted to marry her in her younger days, and Sakura had taken to the lessons like a duck to water. Her missions usually called for long-distance, low-key machinations, but that only gave her more time to hone her close-range abilities.
Team Eight's spotless, if slightly mediocre image wasn't just a testament to their ability to be sneaky. It was just as much a testament to their ability to eliminate any and all witnesses who could possibly implicate them as well.
Sakura's smile grew even more as her 'blade' once again pressed up against the side of Choujuurou's neck—but the triumph she felt vanished almost as soon as it came. Choujuurou was not a short young man; he had at least a head and a half on her, and that meant she had to raise her arms to get at his jugular. This time, he had made her job a little easier, curling down slightly and leaving very little space between them.
Unfortunately for her, he had done so in order to get into a position to stab upwards. The tip of his bokken was pressed snuggly against the inner underside of her left breast, just off-center of her chest and, if she recalled Hinata's medical diagrams correctly, perfectly positioned to slide between her ribs and spear through her heart.
"I believe I would call that an impasse," Tsutomu remarked from off to the side.
Sakura all but jumped away from Choujuurou, suddenly feeling as though she had been caught doing something inappropriate. She had hailed down a pair of maids to referee the sparring session—Miki and Ami, she thought their names might be—but she hadn't even noticed her cousin slip inside. One of the maids had set him up with a richly embroidered cushion and a pot of tea while he waited.
Her pride took a huge battering. She hadn't noticed him at all.
She coughed, trying to shake off some of the embarrassment and maintain her smile. "Well!" She glanced at Choujuurou, whose smile had shrunken back to the tight-lipped polite version from the train. "If we take that as tie, that's four-six in your favor, out of ten." They hadn't set a point limit, exactly, but the thought of continuing as they had now that she was cognizant of Tsutomu felt… awkward.
Very, very awkward.
"As good a place as any to stop," he agreed gamely, apparently finding their audience just as much of a deterrent. "Thank you very much for the invitation, Ha—Sakura-san." He bowed, stiff and formal, first to her and then to her cousin before returning his bokken to the rack it came from and briskly exiting the dojo.
Sakura watched him go, and then eyed her cousin suspiciously as she put her own practice sword away. He stood, passing his empty cup off to Miki and gracefully smoothing out his hakama.
"Yes, cousin?" His voice was back to its normal, cool baritone, as smooth and impersonal as river stone.
"I didn't say anything," Sakura shot back, a touch snidely, as she lifter up her long, heavy hair and fanned in cool air where it had been stuck to the nape of her neck with sweat. "I feel like you might have something to say, though."
"Just a bit of advice," he told her, as they fell into step and exited the dojo, leaving the maids to take care of the rest of the clean up process. The slender chains dangling from the sides of his glasses swayed in time with his strong, even stride.
"I am, as ever, always ready to heed my most honorable Onii-sama." Sakura's tone was as dry as the tundra itself.
Her most honorable Onii-sama glanced at her from the corner of his eye and a small, slow, absolutely wicked smirk spread over his lips. "Make sure you don't let our honored Sofu-sama catch you sparring like that, cousin," he instructed.
Sakura sputtered in embarrassment.
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Chapter Word Count: 2,070
Total Word Count: 14,740
Targeted Word Count: 11,667
Only a little under an hour late! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.