I confess, I'm a bad person. I had this waiting for days before I actually got round to uploading...on the up-side, you can count on more regular updates for a while, as I've got another couple of chapters ready to post in the next few days. Would you rather slower, steadier updates, or everything at once? Let me know as I can do either!
Anyway, without further ado, chapter seven. Enjoy!
She wakes and stretches, luxuriating in the warmth under the covers against the cold air surrounding her exposed face. Tiring eventually of simply being in her own skin, she opens her eyes and looks about in the dim light. Bare wood is dark all around her, and after a moment's staring, she realises she's never seen this place before.
So how did she get here? Where was she before this? Trying to rack her brain she gets up, pushing the covers back thoughtlessly and walking to the covered window. The blind is thick, creamy white paper, and she can't work out how to remove it so she carefully ducks under the edge to peer out at the morning.
The view is incredible. There's a field below her, a sort of meadow of dark green plants with white flowers dotting the surface. On the right it is bounded by a steep rise of layered rock, going up, up to a peak so far above she has to crane her neck to see it. At the base, where the near-sheer face meets the sloping meadow, there are a pair of houses. One is built directly underneath an overhang, and the other a little way away. Beyond them, the ground disappears, leaving a view of more distant mountainside wreathed in bright-white mist.
Most of her view is in half darkness though, the only bright light is on the left, where another house stands, set higher on top of a scree slope, and in the distant land below. In comparison these appear to glow with morning sun. She is enthralled by the scene, and doesn't hear anybody ascending the stairs at the far end of the room until they speak.
"I see you are awake." She whirls, hands coming up to attack and ripping away the hindrance of the paper screen, before she stops, confused at what she sees.
"Um. I know you, don't I?"
"Sakura? Yes, of course you know me. I am Itachi, remember?" He walks over to stand beside her, places a hand on her forehead. "We thought you more recovered than this. Your memory had not lapsed for days, we thought it would remain so."
"I'm sorry," She murmurs, feeling mortified. Itachi, she does remember him now, just a little. Smiling, feeding her. "I was hurt, wasn't I? And you helped me." It feels terribly rude to have forgotten something like that, but he doesn't seem angry.
"You were very badly injured when our old base burned down, and somehow your memories were robbed too. You've nearly recovered physically, but it seems your mind needs more time to heal." She nods, chagrined. She's let him down, and not for the first time by the sound of it.
"So...what do I do now?" She asks, staring into his face.
He smiles slightly, seeming to understand more than even she does from the question. "Now you come downstairs, and we have some breakfast, and fill you in on the important things. Are you hungry?"
Sakura nods, relieved, and follows him down the stairs. One thing at a time she can cope with, and food sounds wonderful right now.
#
This 'family' breakfast idea of Itachi's isn't, in Kisame's opinion, his partner's biggest flash of genius. It means there are more of them available to catch her if Deidara sets her off again, but it means they all have to act as if they get on well.
Kisame can do that, of course. He has self control and no childish hangups, but Deidara and Tobi are another matter. Well, Deidara is anyway – he dislikes both Itachi and Tobi intensely, and the chances of this meal remaining civilised with the three of them in one room seem small.
It's not actually too hard to put on a smile as the pair come downstairs though. "Morning princess, feeling better?" He calls, though Tobi's rather overdone cry of joy downs him out a little.
Deidara says nothing for a moment, then chimes in with a rather uninspired "Hi Sakura."
Oddly, it's Deidara at whom she smiles, and who she sits next to around the fire. For a moment she watches them all, but as Itachi starts to dish up the rice, she speaks. "I know it's going to sound silly, but I've lost my memory again." She begins. "I kind of remember you guys, but I can't put my finger on anything. So...would you mind introducing yourselves?"
There's no suppressing a wry grin at the way she puts it, so incredibly trusting. Itachi really is a genius, strange ideas about creating a family atmosphere or not. Since nobody else seems to want to, he begins. "Well cherry-pie, I'm Kisame. I..." He gathers his backstory mentally for a moment, then carries on. "I taught you sword fighting, back at our old place. You were a nifty little swordsman too, so when you feel up to it I'll do it again, if you like."
Her brow crinkles. "Sword fighting?" She asks, and he realises Itachi hasn't yet explained her profession. But before he can say anything, Tobi jumps in.
"You're a ninja Sakura! We're the best of the best, and you were our doctor. But I don't know what'll happ-" Deidara hits the idiot over the head.
"Tobi, you were meant to introduce yourself, not talk crap."
"But-"
"No. I'll introduce both of us. Sakura, I'm Deidara, our reconnaissance expert and not the only one here to owe you my life. Tobi here is useless and ignorant. You really are a shinobi though, and a talented fighter."
She looks nervous at this pronouncement, but Kisame isn't worried. He can remember how she reacted when she saw him spar with Itachi, how the battle-lust had come into her eyes and brightened her cheeks as pink as her hair. That's what makes her a shinobi really, in blood and soul, and when it comes down to it not even Itachi could erase that part of her.
Itachi is keeping to his wifey role, serving up breakfast in nice clean bowls and passing them around. He's cooked some more meat today, having grabbed some from the town, and Kisame enjoys the food too much to care about anything else for a while. Itachi an Deidara can keep an eye on the little one in the mean time.
Tobi and Deidara start bickering as usual, but this time there's a new sound – a bubble of laughter which cuts across and silences both more effectively than a glare or a threat could have. "It's okay, you can have some of mine Deidara, I'm not too hungry."
When Kisame looks up Sakura is holding out her last strip of meat to the surprised man next to her. "No, Sakura it's alright, really. You keep yours, Tobi can keep mine, and I'll just beat him up later in training." She shrugs at that, and eats the morsel with a fond smile on her face. It's a little bit freaky, how comfortable she seems with them all there, how deeply at ease.
A glance at Itachi reveals nothing helpful – he is watching her the same way Kisame himself is, an almost bemused expression on his face. Sitting there amongst them, exchanging pleasantries and collecting up the dishes with the insistence that she's happy to wash up after all the help they've given her...it's really not so implausible to think she could be one of them.
Sure, there's the size and power difference, but according to their intel she has potential. There's a chance this will prove more fun than the last few days led him to believe.
#
He offers to wash the dishes with her before Itachi does, feeling oddly protective after watching the bastard helping her down the stairs this morning. She's been left so vulnerable and trusting by the mindfuck she's gone through, it makes Deidara angry. Torture and interrogation are one thing, but plumbing the depths of someone's very character is just disgusting. And anyway, there's no real need to do all this.
Even though he hates the man, he knows Itachi is powerful and intelligent enough to bring in the Kyuubi without resorting to kidnapping and brainwashing the jinchuuriki's team mates. He had almost managed himself back in Suna, and it was only because the kid was so enraged over the Kazekage's death that he'd packed so much power.
But he already knew Itachi was a sadist. So he follows Sakura outside to the well and hauls up water for her. He ends up carrying the full bucket back too, 'cause he's not going to risk her overtaxing herself now. When she's not fired up on adrenaline like yesterday's débâcle, she's weak. Not horribly so, but enough that she'll be training up for a good long time to come.
He heats some water over the fire while she rinses off the worst of the dirt in cold. She's done before the hot is ready, and she leans over his shoulder with a casualness that Deidara finds completely alien. Personal space tends to be valued by missing-nin, and to actually lean on an S-ranked ninja for support? It must be years since anybody has touched him without killing intent behind their actions.
"What is it, yeah?" He asks, hardly able to keep his discomfort from colouring the words. She looks at him in the water's reflection and grins.
"I just wanted to see myself. There's no mirrors anywhere, and I want to know what I look like. It's not very clear though."
He sits up straighter, forcing her to let go of his shoulder and step back. Contact decreased, he turns and manages a smile. "Well the pan's not dark enough for you to get a good idea, but I can tell you the simple things." She nods and he begins to count off on his fingers; "One, you have pink hair, it stands out a lot. It's pretty ragged since the fire though, and a bit blackened in places. Your eyes are green and quite large. You aren't very tall, but then girls aren't-"
"Really?" She laughs. "Isn't it weird the things I forgot. I knew I was a girl, but I didn't know it really made a difference."
He stares at her, half disbelieving, but there's no pretence in her manner. "Surely you've noticed that girls are...differently shaped?" He's blushing and he knows it, so when she nods he decides not to elaborate. "Women are physically less strong, more emotional, and usually smaller than men. It doesn't make much of a difference though, not among shinobi."
That's a lie, but there's no way in hell he's going to explain the unique role kunoichi play in battling with their bodies. Even the thought of explaining just how and why men and women are differently formed makes him feel uncomfortable, let alone explaining sex as a weapon. He doesn't trust she could even really understand it, the way her mind has been warped.
The water is still a bit on the cool side, but the conversation has gone too far into dangerous territory, and he doesn't want to clam up. So he distracts her, holding up his hand and wiggling his tongues as if to a child. "Can you wash, and I'll dry? Only my hands don't like the taste of soap suds."
She gasps in surprise, but there's no fear in the sound. Crouching down, she takes the hand, holds it up close to her face and runs a finger over the fleshy lips. It tickles, being touched actively rather than grabbing smooth, cold clay, or harsh rock. She reaches for his other hand, dropping the first, and pokes at it, prying apart the lips. He waggles the tongue again to amuse her, and she giggles.
"How did you get those?" She asks, pressing one of her own, smaller palms against his. "My hands are just...hands."
"It's a bloodline," He shrugs, taking his fingers back and feigning disinterest now her attention is diverted. "Some ninja families have special traits that get passed down. My hands allow me to mould clay and...well I'll show you the art I make using it some time. You liked it, before the...whatever it was that happened. Before we came here."
There are no safe topics, it seems, as she cocks her head and asks; "What actually did happen? Did..." She pauses, and Deidara tenses, ready for an attack in an instant. But her memory hasn't returned, she's just uncomfortable. "Did anybody get hurt worse than me? Your family, my family...what happened?"
He would have had an easier time explaining sex to her.
"We didn't live with our families. They...we don't have family like most people do. You needn't worry, nobody else was there when it happened, so there were no other casualties. It means we don't know quite what happened, but that doesn't matter now."
"How come-"
"It doesn't matter," He snaps, then runs his hand through his hair, chagrined at having lost control, "Just ...wait until you're better before we re-hash old history, okay."
He can only hope they can work out a back-story by the time she looses patience. But for now Sakura nods, slightly wide eyed still, and he grins as kindly as he can. "So, can you remember how to wash dishes?" He asks, trying to recapture the playful tone of the conversation a moment before.
She laughs at that. "I'll see how I manage, but I think I can."
Her eyes don't match her smile though, and he can feel the weight of her gaze as he goes to find a dry tea-towel. Maybe she isn't so oblivious after all.
The thought should make him worry for the success of the mission, but instead he finds his fake smile easier to wear.
Feedback makes my fingers fly, so let me know what you have/haven't liked. Up next, chapter 8 - In The Field