A/N: STOP. Ok, now that I hopefully have your attention, this is an IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT. I have rewritten the ENTIRE story, and this is the third chapter of entirely new stuff. Please go back and reread the new content or else, you'll be very confused as to what's going on here.
And now that that's out of the way, onto the fun stuff! The moment I think you've all been waiting for! Enjoy!
I don't own Naruto.
Sakura was still for a moment, taking in the surreal feeling of the moment she just experienced. Leaving the counter, she stood in front of the very tall man, unsure of what happened next.
Kimimaro was on her in an instant.
"What did you do?" He hissed, leaning down and whispering into her face.
Sakura couldn't hold back the snarl that curled her lips. He was fast, able to get from one side of the shop to the other, and far too close for comfort.
Chōjūrō stepped up, angling himself between her and the man with the frosty glare. Kimimaro was not a short man, but Chōjūrō was wiry and towered over both of them. The shy and skittish personality was replaced by a steel bite.
"She took care of our own. Blood for blood," growled Chōjūrō.
Kimimaro blinked, before turning to Sakura. He observed her for a moment and then backed down. "Of course," he murmured, calm demeanor returning. "Chigiri codes."
He took a step away, watching the Kiri-native, but directed his next sentence at Sakura. "He will hear of this, and he will not be happy. You will have to explain yourself to him."
She gulped, subconsciously stepping closer to the taller man who shielded her. He noticed, even if she didn't, and pressed himself closer. Mei gave him to her for a reason.
Kimimaro went back to the piano, and began to play quietly like he always did. Chōjūrō turned to the pink haired woman, and held her shoulders. "I'm not really sure what's going on, but Mei trusts you, and she thinks you need help. That guy is bad news, how did you get into this mess?" He asked her quietly, dipping his head down to her level. She looked up at him and responded, keeping her lips from moving in any distinct way so that they could not be read.
"I'm not allowed to speak about it," she told him, and when he gave her a disbelieving look, she insisted. "I'm not in the place to talk, believe me, I would tell you if I could. It was an accident, but now I have to go with it or else the people I care about are going to get hurt. I believe that threat, I believe it with all my heart. Please, don't ask me difficult questions. I won't be able to answer them. You're my Nakama now anyway, and that means I can't put you in harms way."
Chōjūrō's deep, black eyes looked sad. He let out a sigh, placing impossibly large and calloused hands around her shoulders. "You are dawn on the high seas, hope after the storm," he said, pulling her closer, letting himself play with her hair. "You don't belong with snakes."
He brushed away the tear that fell down her face, drawn from his words.
The doors closed and Sakura waved off Chōjūrō, who sent her a sweet smile that took off some of the bite of the cold. The windows would soon be covered in frost and the flowers moved inside to escape the changing of fall to winter.
The three of them had fallen into an odd routine. Sakura couldn't just make Chōjūrō leave, and Kimimaro knew that as well, so he tolerated the tall, blue haired man. They all skirted around the elephant in the room, playing nice to keep the peace and the customers unaware.
Sakura had taken to Chōjūrō very quickly, and he her. The two were honey sweet and Kimimaro could see something growing there.
Kimimaro was an observant man, yet, when he first laid eyes on the pink haired woman, he deemed her unworthy. Too gentle, too caring— it would certainly be her downfall. He was proven wrong, though. She had persisted despite what he and everyone else had thought, taking her love and using it to make her stronger. Yet, her softness was her Achilles heel, he thought, looking at the way her green eyes followed Chōjūrō through the window and down to the end of their street.
Getting up from the piano seat, Kimimaro walked over to the woman and looked down at her impassively. She barely batted an eye at his sudden closeness, having had the time to grow accustomed to him, in an odd sort of way.
"We must get ready," he reminded her, and she turned to him, a vulnerable look fresh on her face before she wiped it all away, something that Kimimaro felt he strangely resonated with. He inclined his head to the back door where a car waited for them. He stood while she finished closing shop and followed him when he saw that she was done. The driver tipped his head to Kimimaro and paid Sakura no mind, as they stepped into the back seat. The ride was long and quiet, a stifling feeling in the air. The fear he could practically feel radiating off the woman was almost enough to make him start, it was so strong. He squashed the part of him that felt bad for her, no matter how small it was.
"Will I see Oyabun-sama?" She asked quietly, twiddling with her hands in her anxiety.
"Yes," he responded, and pretended like his response didn't make her breathe quicken. He paid it no mind, paying attention to the road up ahead while the woman at his side lost herself in her thoughts. They were getting close.
When the car finally slid to a smooth stop, he turned to look at the woman again, briefly. Her face was pale and at some point, she had broken out into a cold sweat.
Taking her, Kimimaro led her forward, with her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, a mockery of chivalry. He took many turns and Sakura followed in step, the two of them walking down the cold halls comfortably. After all, it had been home for a long time. The two reached a set of double doors, and there Kimimaro hit the wood with the brass of the western styled door knock. Sakura audibly gulped, for once folding into him in her fear, rather than pulling away. Kimimaro was startled by the touch, however brief it was. No one touched him willingly, not even Oyabun-sama.
He pulled away from her slightly, confused by his pwn reaction, but didn't have time to dwell on it. A voice from inside said, "Come in." And they complied.
Sakura was no longer shaking by the time their toes just brushed against the heavy Persian rug, and the tall man had to give her some credit.
Narrow yellow eyes appraised them, twinkling with a crazed gleam.
"Hello, Sakura-chan. Welcome home," Orochimaru cooed, placing his head in his propped up hand. "And Kimimaro-kun, how sweet of you to guide our dragon back to me."
Kimimaro inclined his head, not paying attention to what exactly his Oyabun was saying, but how he was saying it.
Standing up, Orochimaru pinned all of his attention on the young, pink haired woman. He slowly walked up to her.
"My dear, you have gotten us into quite a bit of trouble, now haven't you. You've done well at the shop, your hard work has been noted, but somehow you have gotten the attention of many, many interesting characters in Konoha… Mizu, included. Once a neutral player, having interest only in the politics of Kiri, they have since become a nuisance with Mei coming into power. Ahh, how I miss Yagura, he's somewhere in Kiri still pulling strings, but he was much less trouble... Now tell me, how is it exactly that you have one of the Siren's right hand men in your position?"
His strained smile told her to comply, and so she did. Bowing her head, she spoke softly. "I am deeply sorry, Oyabun-sama. There was a man at my doorstep, bleeding and injured. I took him into the shop and fixed what I could before I realized he had companions looking for him. We exchanged him quickly and they left."
It was silent for a brief moment after her explanation. Then there was the sharp crack! of skin hitting skin.
"Foolish, foolish girl," Orochimaru snarled, withdrawing his hand like she was a disease. She sat there, crumpled in like a leaf on the ground from the force of the hit for a moment, before slowly standing back up. Her head was still bowed in reverence to the Oyabun.
He stared down at her with his unnatural yellow gaze, a condescending look on his face. "You are too much like Tsunade, too soft and too weak." He circled her like a predator watching after it's prey, and he shook his head. "I should've seen this coming," Orochimaru sighed suddenly, all of his anger seemingly gone. He placed a hand under her chin and lifted her head up. "After all, Jūgo was the only reason we took you off the field, White Dragon."
She flinched back, cringing at his words, and Orochimaru watched on with sick fascination. "So human," he whispered, caressing her face.
"It can't be helped then, can it?" He sighed once more, turning away from her and folding his hands beneath his sleeves. "You have been paid a blood oath, as those filthy Mizu scum like to call it. The boy is yours now, unless you give him back to them like a meaningless pawn, or a slave— how barbaric," Orochimaru smiled as he spoke, before he whirled back to her, his hair whipping furiously.
"He is to know nothing of who you really are, do you hear me?" He hissed. "You are Ōtō, you belong to us."
A/N: finally, it's been revealed! Some of you were making some very close guesses, congratulations, my dudes. This might've left you with more questions, but the cat's out of the bag. Until the next installment, (which will hopefully be out sometime during Thanksgiving break yayyy!)
chapter notes: Kirigakure was called Chigiri no Satō, for Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist. Chigiri codes, with my creative liberty, in this instance refers to the proverb we all know, 'blood is thicker than water'. In canon, Orochimaru would absorb the souls of all his host bodies, giving him a very disjointed personality. I would think that in an alternate universe, he would maybe have some sort of mental disorder, on top of the fact that he's just an evil guy, no excuses. *canon* I'm looking at you Kishi, I'm looking at you.
Anbu-chan