The Quickening
Chapter Fourteen
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto!
Sakura jumped, startling herself wide awake, but she didn't open her eyes fearing her rescue had been a happy dream.
"Sakura? Are you alright?" Naruto stirred beside her. She glanced around, Kakashi slept underneath the window on one of the many couches Gaara had furnished them with. Sai had apparently fallen asleep sketching and quietly dozed, propped in a corner. Yamato guarded the door, curled upon a pallet.
"It's not a dream." Sakura muttered, tears welling in her eyes.
"Sakura?" Kakashi inqured groggily.
"It's nothing." She replied, shaking her head gently at her own doubt and smiling with the relief their very existence brought. Careful not to disturb the blonde, she swung her legs over the edge of the couch and wandered into the off-side kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and lightly made her way back to the couch. But she didn't sleep. Instead, she watched her sleeping comrades through the moonlight.
'For shinobi, they certainly are sound sleepers', she mused.
Sakura shifted into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes.
Pain knifed through Sakura with such intensity she didn't have time to stifle the pain-ridden groan that escaped her lips. Kakashi materialized beside her seconds later.
"What's wrong?" He asked in a concern tightened whisper.
Sakura motioned to her midriff, tensing slightly.
Kakashi stripped the sheet off in one clean movement. The lack of light did not conceal a spray of blood blossoming across the cotton slip.
"I'll get help." He assured her, pressing a towel against the wound before rousing Yamato and slipping into the hall.
"Is she ready, Kabuto?" Orochimaru asked, licking his lips in anticipation at the nin'i nod.
The white-haired shinobi strolled to the panel and drained the fluid from the vessel. The Kage stepped aside as the container opened up to reveal his daughter. She lay unconscious, slumped against the sides of the glass vessel with her waist-length pink hair covering her torso and well-formed breasts. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the eerie green light of the laboratory. On top of her striking features, her lithe form testified to the overwhelming beauty of her mother.
Orochimaru stepped forward, surveying her more as he would cattle than his own daughter. But he was please: With her long legs she would likely be fast. Her joints were smooth and rounded-her reflexes would be excellent. And the very aura she seemed to emit spoke of her already perfect chakra control.
The woman stirred, opening her eyes to reveal a pair of emerald green orbs.
Orochimaru smirked despite himself. So what if his genetics weren't visible? She was the perfect weapon. And her brothers would make perfect vessels when they awoke.