A/N- I apologize most profusely for my negligence regarding this fic. *performs a full kowtow* Many things have happened in my life that required me to take a break from writing altogether and when I returned, I didn't feel adequate to writing this difficult little chapter. I realize that I don't have to justify myself, but I always prefer it when I learn a little more about an author, so I continue to make these kinds of notes. Anyway, back to business as usual.

xXx

It was completely fruitless to expect that this visit would be any different than previous ones. Why he had been persuaded to enter the brothel again, he didn't know. A lapse in judgment, perhaps, or was it the shameless display of the call girl out front? Every girl here knew his greatest weakness from personal experience.

"Madam, please," he said to the simpering woman. "I have seen all of your merchandise
many times. None of it interests me." To cement his point, he crossed his legs and lounged with unreasonable nonchalance on the sofa which was too soft.

"Yes sir, of course, sir," she replied, bowing and folding her bejeweled hands into her sleeves, "However, we have a new acquisition that many strike your fancy; a kunoichi."

Tiredly, he rolled his eyes to the owner. Her crooked grin wasn't selling the product. Everything from her decadent but worn gown to her badly painted face sapped his patience. "How could you possibly have acquired a genuine kunoichi? Nevermind." He regarded her sternly for a moment, deciding what level of effort he was willing to make. "Show her to me," he said after a long silence.

The silly woman scurried away making chopping motions with her hands to the girls clustered around the granite clerk's counter. Five of them followed her down the dark hallway and disappeared into the back. He knew that there was a large building attached to the back of the storefront. This cleverly disguised building housed all of their 'movable' merchandise, a store which could have an imposing volume at times. Only this little lobby was attached to it. Upstairs lived the permanent fixtures: merchandise for rental that had long ago proven unable to sell. When, invariably, nothing in her warehouse attracted his attention, it was sometimes usual for him to complete the tour upstairs. Would he feel that way today? Probably not, he thought, choosing to sit on the plush green velvet daybed. Today his appetite was lean.

As he crossed his legs, he heard a far-off rustle grow louder and more pointed. He chuckled to himself. She might not be a kunoichi, but at she could certainly put up a fight. There was a loud crack, a few hurried, angry words, and then the door at the end of the hallway opened. The entire group came flooding out, the five bodies of the attendants completely blocking his view of the pseudo-kunoichi, but when they moved...

xXx

Sakura despised the way the slave traders talked around her as though she were a well-carved block of wood or a dog. Their callous words cut her deeply, but there were other things here that hurt. Each lady concealed a slender bamboo wand in her sleeve that could be whipped out in a second and the assistants ruthlessly slashed her body when she didn't instinctively obey their most casual commands. Of course, to her, the pain wasn't anything more than a slight inconvenience, but she wasn't sure she wanted her captors to know in case they had stronger tactics in reserve, so she was always obliged to wince or cry out. To entertain herself, she began to see during what other occasions she could express these sorts of reactions before anyone caught on that she was faking them.

When they fed her, she scooted away and hid her face; when they tried to wash her, she would cry and whimper and whenever they tried to move her, like today, she would thrash and flail her arms, congratulating herself when her hands smacked anyone. She would have easily used her monstrous strength to crush any one of them into a squishy, gelatinous carpet stain, but the cold, steel shackles at her wrists and ankles sapped her precious chakra. A deep, cruel symbol carved into them announced their dark purpose which brought back the memory of the first, terrible day they had been forced upon her and the agonizing burns she had caused herself. She didn't know when she might need to use the slender tendril of life force left flowing under her skin, so she refrained from exercising her frustration and continued to resist her treatment through mundane means.

She noticed that this move involved more orderlies than usual, one for each limb and an overseer, but most unusually she was additionally treated to a drive-by grooming. Her unbound hair, which now just touched her shoulders, was roughly brushed and cold water splashed on her face. Over the dirty white shift she had been wearing for two weeks, a faded, pink robe was tied and little, papery shoes were thrust upon her feet. More emphatically than usual (in accordance with the evident importance of this event), she kicked out her feet and balled her writhing arms into fists. She caught a young woman for sure in her face, but strangely, she was not swatted with the girl's wand. What was going on?

Finally, she was dragged from the dirty, dark corridors into a romantically-lit room with walls covered in lovely, rich hues. Her paper shoes made soft shooshing sound across a plush, wine-colored carpet. She saw the simpering lady into whose possession Hiroko Yoshida had released her, but she wasn't looking at Sakura. Instead, she inclined her head toward a long green sofa with only half a back, but its occupant was blocked by various bodies and limbs. Sakura's hair was given one last tweak and she realized that she was on display. Now, all of the attendants retreated back against the wall and the madam led her forward by one hand and slowly, sensuously turned her in a circle before a dark man who sprawled lazily on the low couch. Sakura was unable to glimpse his face because of the poor lighting and then finally, she was made to kneel. The older woman used a closed fan under the chin to raise her face to the observer.

The man on the couch was a perfectly normal looking man. He was neither thin nor thick and he had straight black hair to the base of his ears. Under a prominent brow decorated with thick, black eyebrows peered keen, dark eyes that gazed at her, unblinkingly. His tight jaw was also slightly heavy, but came to a balanced point under thin, silent lips. He wore grey trousers and brown shoes under a long-sleeved brown sweater. Over this was a long, woolen black overcoat. Under different circumstances, he was a completely forgettable figure.

The relentless intensity with which he stared at her was unnerving, however. It felt as though his eyes were burning through her skin, which gave her a disturbing feeling of déjà vu. The pinky on his left hand twitched occasionally as his thoughts raced through his head until the frequency of the activity suddenly gave her a suspicion. Carefully, subtly, she let her delicate tendril of healing green chakra surface in her face, far away from her shackles. It was almost imperceptible (the attendants of average sensory stood no chance of seeing it) but after she did so, his dark eyes flashed and widened.

He was a ninja. It now occurred to her that he was under a glamour jutsu and she became afraid. What if this ninja bought her? In her current state, she could be completely at his mercy, especially since she had no idea how powerful he was. Her shackles prevented her from even healing her own bruises- anything else was out of the question- but more urgently, he now knew that she was also a ninja. How could she have been so stupid to show him voluntarily?

"Well, sir?" The madam stepped into greater prominence and bowed low, pressing her hands together. "She is a kunoichi, yes?"

Slowly, the man stood and unconsciously, the madam's feet backed away. Sakura surmised that the couch must be low indeed to disguise his true height, but resolutely she stood her ground, gazing back into his eyes and ignoring the flush of panic in her own cheeks.

"I…" he began in a deceptively thin voice, barely audible, "I will buy her. Name your price." He hardly noticed the ecstatic glitter in the madam's eyes, but continued to appraise the kneeling Sakura. Presently, he inclined his head and clasped his hands behind his back. The careful tightness was gone from his face.

"Here is her documentation! How will you be transporting her today?" said the madam, breathlessly. There was a frantic rustling when she returned to view and set down a stack of papers on the coffee table.

The ninja's eyes flicked to the row of attendants still standing against the wall, then returned his eyes to Sakura and said, "I will take care of that now." In the empty void between them, his chakra began to reach out. It felt dry and hot and looked red in color. Sakura flinched, but once again refused to back away. She concentrated as hard as she could on her chakra, pulling it from every nerve in her body, begging her body to make more than was reasonable. Her opponent's chakra was pooling between them dangerously. Behind him, the madam was watching them, trying to hide her look of confusion, but all of Sakura's attention was focused on ordering her chakra in front of her. Her head swam. Her chakra was simply rejecting her direction, unable to replenish itself to suit her needs. It kept slipping from her control and couldn't be made dense. Why couldn't she concentrate?

When his red, burning chakra advanced on her, she felt her heart beat savagely with panic. She threw all of her faintly glowing, green chakra between them, warding off whatever terrible thing he was about to do. His chakra hesitated, then folded the weak, green shape into itself and encircled her. It cradled her head, warm and soft and Sakura felt herself falling, inexorably and willingly, into sleep.

xXx

"…It would be best if you slept."

"No! No... please don't leave me yet..."

"All right. I'll stay. Something has been on your mind. Would you like to tell me what it is?"

"Have I done the right thing?"

This is the forest. The air smells faintly of pine. How did it come to be? Was this en route to a mission? What was she supposed to be doing? She should make coffee- that always helped. On the other hand, the sky was still dark, so it must be before morning and she could go back to sleep. Come to think of it, she wasn't lying in her soft, warm bed, she was curled up in a vertical position and her back hurt as though she had been sitting against a tree all night. No wonder she was awake so early.

She opened her eyes and saw a dark brown wall curving sharply around her. She looked from one side to the other and found herself surrounded by the same textured wall folded like a tube around her. Though upon inspection her wrists were free of cold iron, her chakra was still only a delicate tendril. She tried to stand up, but found quickly that her knees were in her chest and couldn't move for the wall of her prison. Her hands were also wedged tightly against her chest and immobile. Panic hovered at the edges of her vision, but she held it back. Quickly, she looked up and saw that the ceiling was very close. A feeling pressed in on her, a feeling like the world was shrinking, but not her. Against her will, her breathing quickened. Her hands struck out at the wall and though it gave slightly, it remained solid. She struck again and again, putting more of her limited strength into her blows each time to no avail. Her body was definitely panicking now. She lashed out and her world wobbled. What was going on, here?

Suddenly, light poured in through the ceiling. She was lifted by hands like iron and carried away from her dreadful prison. When she was lowered to the ground, she quickly opened her eyes.

It was in a forest; a very cold forest thick with trees native to a cold climate. Light frost covered the ground beyond a swept, dirt circle. To one side sat a large wicker basket with its lid propped against it. Low hanging branches created a fragrant canopy that occasionally dripped water onto its tenants. Through the foliage, the sky was violet and crimson and thin, sparse clouds reflected the colors of the sky.

"It is dusk."

Sakura whipped around to see a tall man walk around a small campfire and sit on a short stump. He used a hooked stick to pull a tiny iron pot closer and remove the lid. He stirred whatever was inside, then returned it to the bright coals of the fire before finally looking up. His eyes were dark spots of black under a curtain of long, shaggy brown hair. His small mouth was a low, tight line of shadow, but his body was broad and completely relaxed. Sakura's legs jerked and tried to stand now that they were unbound. She lunged toward the forest, but fell on her hands and knees immediately.

"No, no, no," he growled. "You know you aren't strong enough for that. Come sit here and eat. You are starving." He gestured with the hook to a straw mat on the opposite side of the fire. "Crawl if you need to," he added in a gentler voice when her face betrayed her weakness.

"Who are you?" Sakura asked, refusing to come an inch closer until the situation was assessed.

Around him, his red chakra flared like a fire having kerosene thrown upon it. The pine branch above him trembled and dumped a little water onto his head, which calmed him down. A big, scarred hand came up to sweep his hair back and shake out the water. It fell straight back the way it was. "I am Ueno Hisoka. You call me Ueno-dono."

Even though she knew the answer, she asked, "Are you the man from the... the place?"

"Yes. I bought you." Like she had thought, he had disguised himself at the brothel. The lack of chakra covering his skin told her that this was his true appearance. Her eyes traveled away from him and out towards the forest, but as though sensing her next thoughts, his red chakra moved swiftly through the night air and enclosed the campsite in a low wall. She would not simply be walking away. "Sit," he said, not unkindly, but in the manner of an order nonetheless.

Defiantly, she stood, wobbling, and tiptoed to the fire. The sticks of wood in the fire were burning slowly, great chunks of ruby coals glowing at either end. She knelt on the simple mat slowly, keeping her head down. The fire, while small, warmed her pale skin. She chanced a glance up and saw the man watching her. He made a small facial movement and returned to his task with the iron pot. Before long, he held out a small bowl of rice and simple broth with a pair of polished wooden chopsticks laid across. Cautiously, she accepted it. He watched her passively until she started in surprise and forced herself to take a bite. Only then did he serve himself and sit cross-legged. "Itadakimasu," he muttered as an afterthought. Sakura made no pretense of manners.

Ueno ate slowly, only looking down at his bowl. Sakura, having not seen hide nor hair of food in presumably three days, ate quicker than a flash. She held her bowl in her lap examining the elegantly minimalist carving and ensured that his attention was completely held by food. When she was sure he wasn't watching her, Sakura let her hands fall on either side of her knees. Slowly, patiently, they drifted closer to the fire, obscured by the bright flames. She hesitated for a moment, making sure to keep her breathing absolutely steady and trying to push her chakra to her fingers, then, quick as a flash, she seized a big, smooth stick from the fire that had a particularly large spike of burning ember and flung it with all her might at the man who now owned her.

Effortlessly, his scarred hand came up and batted the stick away to lodge, point first, in the dirt a little ways away. "Don't do that," he said with tired patience. Sakura burst into tears.

"What are you going to do to me?" she sobbed. "What do you want from me?" She was tired, she was weak and she was being held captive by a ninja she didn't know. Now that the night sky was completely dark, she felt the weight of her uselessness pulling her down.

"Quiet," Ueno commanded firmly. He waited until she slowly sniffled herself into relative calm and set everything aside. He filled a different pot with water from a bucket and set it in the coals, building up the fire around it again. While it heated, he brought out a packet from his pocket and emptied its contents inside, then at length poured the liquid into both of their empty bowls. The smell was strong and when she was directed to drink it, it was found to be black tea.

"You are going to be accompanying me. You have no established duties as of yet and the physical demand I place on you is, currently, small."

"But... why?"

"Irrelevant." He finished sipping his tea and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand. "All that matters is the present situation, not the series of events that led to it. Maybe in other situations," he added, seeing her mouth open to protest, "but not this one."

"...Where are we going?"

"The question that you are asking me is far less interesting than the one you are thinking."

Sakura had to pause for a moment and retrace her mental steps. When she remembered the question she had been thinking about, she didn't want to ask it. The corner of his thin mouth rose slightly. "Please ask it," he encouraged.

"Is... there anyone following us?" Sakura felt ashamed of her tiny, pathetic voice, but the chance of an answer was too important to pass by.

"Yes," he said promptly, surprising her with honesty. "A group of five young ninja have been on your trail for several days, but their progress is slow and I highly doubt they understand the nature of your... situation." He looked at her face quickly again, his black eyes meeting hers. "You have been asleep for maybe a day and a half," he answered. "I had enough time to find them, lay a subtle trail to my semi-permanent, quasi-accessible dwelling and begin our journey to fields afar where some business contacts of mine have informed me there is money to make." He stood slowly, revealing his entire, towering height to her, then slowly approached her around the fire. His enormous hand reached once more into his pocket and pulled out a small brown packet. He dipped a long finger inside and brought out a miniscule amount of white powder on the pad of his forefinger. "I am truly aggrieved, but now that I have rested and you have been fed, I must return you to the basket. Time is of the essence and I cannot afford to lose it trying to keep you under control. Cooperate." He seized her face in his hand and used a thumb to pry open her jaw. Sakura barely had time to fling her hands at him when he had touched the powder to her tongue and she once more succumbed to unconsciousness.

xXx

A/N- There you are! So I was looking through some old reviews, seeing what I missed, having long conversations in my head and I decided to answer a few questions that I saw cropping up a few times, because I'm sure many people would like to know.

"Where is Sasuke?"

Well, I'm not sure. This story was only intended to be a five chapter deal before I decided to plunge in deeper, and in the original plot, he was a complete non-entity, so I didn't write anything for him. Maybe, maybe, if the plot seems to swing that way, he'll turn up to muck about, but for now, let's just say that his life doesn't intersect with Sakura's much at all, so she doesn't think about him a whole lot. (If you prefer to pretend that he's dead, go right ahead.)

"Why does Sakura call herself Ichigo? Is that from Bleach?"

Simple. Ichigo, as we all know, means 'strawberry'. It's not perfect, but her pink hair could remind one of strawberries. No. I didn't take it from Bleach.

"Is Sai dead?"

Why would I answer a plot-relevant question?