A Cornucopia of Conundrums
Summary: "So what you're saying is; you had a one-night stand with some yakuza lordling and now you're pregnant with his baby?" SasuSaku. AU.
I need you to be a monster, which is to say I am trying not to love you, which is to say I am still dreaming of kissing your claws. ~ FortesaLatifi
Sasuke knew that he was slowly but surely winding himself in the right direction – it had taken him a lifetime's worth of mistakes and his daughter's trusting eyes to see what he'd been doing with his life until just a few days ago. And now that he had, he had no idea how this was ever going to end. At the end of the day, he was still Uchiha Sasuke of the gokudo, and she was still Haruno Sakura of – light and starlight and everything good in this world.
It was either that the gokudo was going to break Sakura or leech away all her righteousness or turn Sarada into one of them. Neither of those options sounded any good to him, and he wished…
He wished…
He didn't know – he simply wished. Maybe for a miracle, maybe for some strength, maybe for things to change, for circumstances to differ, for them to be anyone other than who they actually were.
The only way he could see this ending was helping them run away at the cost of his life. But he knew that he was selfish – he – he wanted to live.
Sakura found it hard to meet Sasuke's eyes after their conversation the night before. They'd both shared a raw moment in her parent's front yard and now she felt – exposed. She'd offered to be his rock, and she was pretty sure that's not something you said to someone who you were planning to ditch in the long run – someone who you were kind of attracted to, but usually felt nothing towards. But – meeting Mebuki and Kizashi after so long had struck a cord with her. It had helped her unveil the shroud of villainy that she'd blanketed over Sasuke in her mind and now that he was actually – humane and approachable; now that he'd offered so many olive branches, now that he'd promised he'd do his best to turn things around, now that she'd finally seen him break and was slowly, at a snail's pace, starting to trust him – she didn't know how to carry herself around him.
Her brain had been categorizing him as the 'enemy' for so long, she was finding it hard to reconcile the idea of him being an ally – maybe even a friend.
So she'd completely avoided any further contact with him. They'd returned to the compound, shared a stilted dinner with the rest of his family and turned in early. She'd read a book to pass some time, Sarada had broken out her homework, and Sasuke had simply pulled out his futon and fallen asleep. Belatedly, she'd realized that he must have been tired. He'd been working on a concussed head and a bad shoulder for a few days now. She was sure his head was better, and decided that she'd offer to remove his stitches in the morning.
Each morning, Sakura, Sarada and Sasuke took turns to use the attached bathroom. Sarada usually went last, insisting on catching a few extra minutes of sleep while her parents got ready for work. Sasuke usually let Sakura call the first dibs, but today, she lingered awkwardly in front of him.
It was an unexpected gesture, so he voiced his curiosity, "Aa?" then winced at how taciturn he sounded.
She cleared her throat, not looking at him. "Your – uh, the cut on your head," she started, looking at him sideways. "It wasn't really that bad and it's been a few days. I think it's time to take out the stitches."
Subsequently, he realized that his head had been stitched up. He touched a hand to the small bandage he'd been using since yesterday in lieu of the surgical wad Sakura had wedged on it. The pain was distant now – an echo of what it had initially been.
She gestured to the bathroom with a hand. "Go in. I'll get my kit," she told him.
He looked at her flit around in her pajamas, feeling a strange sort of sensation in his heart, then obliged, went inside and sat on the commode to wait for her. She was there only a moment later. She set her kit on the vanity, opened it up, took out a pair of tweezes and a small scissor and turned to him.
She gently cupped the side of his face and observed both sides of his temple. She probed the side that had caused his concussion and he winced at the tenderness. "That's going to take a little while to heal properly. I'd tell you not to overexert, but I know better."
She said all of that in a soft yet professional tone, looking over his face clinically, but all he could notice was the warmth of her hand. It was bizarre, and he tried to shake it off. Thankfully, she released his face and gently pried off the bandage from his other temple. Then she set to work; using the tweezers, she gently pulled up on each knot, slipped the scissors into the loop, snipped the stitch, then gently tugged on the thread until the suture slipped out of his skin. He felt a soft, tickling pressure every time she removed a stitch, but there was minimal pain.
It took her less than a minute to get all of the stitches out, but even in that small span, he recalled her suppressed fury on the night he'd shown up like that. He understood that she hadn't probed him then on account of his terrible condition, but she must have been curious.
"Won't you ask?" he queried, not knowing if he had the guts to answer. His stomach dropped at the thought of having to tell her that he'd killed someone, but she never even looked up, busying herself by putting her kit back together. For a moment he thought that she hadn't understood the context of his question – after all, he'd simply strung three random words together out of the blue. But then he noticed the subtle change in her expression and his stomach churned with dread – of her judgment, of her verdict and everything in between. If Sarada's absolution had broken him that night, then Sakura's condemnation might have awakened something even more dangerous inside of him.
Her face was hard; a stark contrast to the shy, flustered expression she'd worn just a few moments ago. He knew in that moment that she'd connected the dots. She was, after all, a smart woman, he thought with reluctant appreciation. Regardless of what she'd offered last night, he knew that she would definitely hold it against him. He waited for her allegations, braced himself for impact and was completely thrown when she said, "I don't need to. You would have told me if I needed to know."
When she looked at him again, her lips were pursed, a frown marring her brow, but her eyes were clear. The green of her irises was shining, but not with accusation, he was surprised to see. Instead, it was shining with an oscillating sort of trust, and he could hear what she wasn't saying – I'm giving you a chance to make this right. Don't make me regret this.
And he found himself infinitely grateful and relieved because he had no idea how he would have handled it otherwise. It wasn't a firm validation, but it wasn't a furious reproach either – he felt obliged nonetheless.
She peered carefully at his face for a few lingering moments, then shook her head and said dismissively, "I'll take a shower first. I have a surgery today."
Sasuke, who'd only just began to revel in her benediction felt all of his internal bearings come to a screeching stop. Alarm bells instantly started ringing inside his head. Immediately, he whipped his head around and studied her face. Her expression had relaxed once more and as he peered closely, he could decipher no negative emotion on her face just yet. He was instantly sure that right now, Sakura was not aware of anything, but it did nothing to lessen his worry – instead, it lingered upon him like a cloud of doom.
"You have surgery?" he asked carefully, observing her face for any sudden change or even a small hint panic. "I thought you were transferred to the Emergency Room."
She finally wrapped up her medical kit and looked at him, frowning now. "I – I think I was going to be. But then Admin told them otherwise," she said, slowly starting to sound alarmed. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, she asked, "Why? Is there something I need to know about?"
His heart was in his throat now, and he didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to needlessly scare her – it was, after all only her second day, so he decided to tread with caution. "What kind of surgery?"
She was scowling at him now. "A routine laparoscopy if I have my way. Would you stop avoiding my question and tell me what this is about?"
"Laparoscopy is – isn't that noninvasive?" he asked, starting to feel relieved. Laparoscopies were alright. Laparoscopies were good.
"Yes," she answered. "Why are you being like that? Is something wrong?"
"No," he answered. Not yet. Not if he could do anything about it. "Nothing."
She studied him with a grim look on her face. "Are you sure about that? Do I need a heads-up? I would really appreciate it."
"No," said Sasuke, trying to reassure both her and himself. For just one second, he had the urge to simply tell her, to warn her against what she might face one day – but then he remembered her shaking, hyperventilation from two days ago, and decided against it. Her helpless trembling and ceaseless tears had cracked something in his heart that day. At the reminder, he felt a small, imperceptible hitch in his heart. He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next, but he found himself standing up, putting a firm hand on the top of her hair, then bending down and placing a soft, fluttering kiss on her forehead. He heard her gasp softly, then felt absolutely terrified of what he'd done.
"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure you get transferred to the ER today," he told her one last time,then without meeting her eyes, walked away. He needed to find Fugaku now.
Sakura felt a jolt of something…inexplicable when his lips connected with her forehead. It made her heart pang hollowly inside her chest and it made her feel strange things – things she didn't really appreciate feeling, so she decided to focus on the conversation. She knew that Sasuke was not telling her the truth – she'd kind of learned by now that there was usually a galaxy's worth of difference between what he said and what he did. She was also slowly coming to realize that despite his façade of cold aloofness, he was, in fact someone who was truly passionate – be it anger or love, hatred or lust, he really did feel everything deeply. As she rubbed the tingling spot on her forehead with a slight downward quirk to her lips, she mused that it must be terribly exhausting, keeping such turbulent emotions in check all the time.
But as she watched him walk away, she also suddenly felt an uncanny sense of was something very obviously fishy about the inpatient department of KMC that no one was telling her about. For a second she felt a small kernel of anger at Sasuke – for not trusting her enough to be honest with her about it despite his promise to be more forthcoming and helpful, but then she remembered how terrified she'd been when her panic attack had kicked in. Maybe, she decided, sometimes ignorance was bliss.
So she tried to shake it off as she did her morning routine, woke Sarada up, helped her dress up and went to breakfast. Aside from Sasuke being uncharacteristically stiff, and Fugaku being clearly absent, breakfast went by as usual. She dropped Sarada off at school and drove to the hospital.
When she got there, she asked around for the locker room, was quickly directed there, changed into her scrubs, shrugged on her coat and was just entering the Gastroenterology Department to look for Yakushi Kabuto when a nurse intercepted her. "Uchiha-sama!"
She wasn't anyone that Sakura recognized, but the nurse clearly knew her. "Dr. Yakushi has started preparing for the surgery. He told me to get you when you came – "
Instantly, Sakura was on guard. She frowned and said, "I thought the surgery was in the afternoon. It's not even ten o' clock yet!"
The nurse looked uncomfortable as she said, "I don't know – something must have happened – "
"Where is Kabuto?" Sakura demanded, annoyed beyond belief and feeling no inclination to address him with any formality.
The nurse looked taken aback. "He was headed to the OR – "
"Has the patient been prepped?"
"Yes, we took him to pre-op – "
Sakura cursed, feeling absolutely furious. "Take me to the OR," she demanded, feeling righteous indignation build up a furious pit in her stomach.
The nurse looked absolutely terrified now, and gulped as she turned around. She scurried ahead of Sakura, taking her past the CSSD, pre-op and post-op rooms leading up to the OR. On the way past a small prep area, she saw an organ harvesting container, and the BIOHAZARD on its surface set her on edge."Is there a transplant surgery today?" she asked the nurse.
"I d-don't – maybe?" she stuttered and picked up her pace, making Sakura feel more confused then ever.
Sakura noticed that they walked past all the regular operation theatres, all of which were unoccupied and she found that incredibly unusual, especially as she was led to one of the larger ORs.
The nurse nervously pointed towards the door, and scurried away. Sakura opened the door, which opened into a scrub room with a large glass divider from where she could see the pre-op hustle and bustle of the lay on the operation table, already anesthetized and she could see that the incision site had been sterilized. But the thing that bothered her the most was that there was more staff in there then required by the scope of the surgery – even if it was an open cholecystectomy. There was just too much extra equipment and containers in the room that weren't part of the procedure. She was suspiciously observing all activity inside when the door opened and Kabuto walked in.
He was, once again wearing a congenial smile, but today his glasses were gone. He must have been wearing lens instead, Sakura thought. "Uchiha-sama," he nodded in greeting, "I see that you got my message."
With a frown, Sakura turned on him. "I thought the surgery was in the afternoon – "
"My apologies. There were a few unexpected complications so we had to reschedule," said Kabuto with such contrition on his face that Sakura had a hard time believing otherwise.
Losing some of her thunder, she asked, "What complications? Did the patient – "
"Let's start," Kabuto interrupted her quite discourteously despite wearing a companionable smile, turning on the tap and starting to scrub his hands and arms with sterile soap.
"Are we still doing the open cholecystectomy?" she asked, feeling only slightly less enraged then before. "I still think it's an unnecessarily risky choice given the completely healthy condition of the liver and the general area surrounding the gallbladder. We still have time – we can just do a laparoscopy."
Kabuto's smile was condescending as he dried his hands and silently walked away.
Sakura was more than a little annoyed because Kabuto luring her in for even a routine open cholecystectomy was so overrated and definitely above her pay grade. It was a single surgeon procedure usually with an intern or resident present to garner some learning experience. Clearly, she was too overqualified for this, which was simply like rubbing salt on a wound. Briefly, she wondered if this was what Madara had planned all along – to have her so severely undermined she'd beg to go back to research? In retrospect, it didn't seem as evil or as bad, so she tried to calm herself down. Or maybe, she told herself vainly, Kabuto had a severe lack of self-confidence, which would explain the staff extravaganza inside the OR. She closed her eyes, leaned on the sink with her hands and counted to ten to calm herself down. Then she put on a cap and began to scrub her hands.
By the time she took her place on the opposite side of the table, Kabuto was already making an incision on the upper right quadrant. His hands were steady and deft has he cut through skin, then muscle and tissue, then gestured for her to insert the separator.
As he reached inside the abdomen cavity, inspecting the liver and admitting air into the subphrenic space, Sakura leaned forward and did a thorough visual examination of the liver, and then scoffed at him. "See?" she told him. "The liver is perfectly healthy. We could have easily resected it with a simple laparoscopy."
Kabuto didn't even look at her. He simply went about his business, clamped the common bile duct that connected the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, and stomach and started the process of resection. It didn't take him long to pull out the defected organ and place it in a small container, and Sakura was actually impressed by his clean handiwork. Relieved that half of the process was over, she offered to do the rest. "I can close the incision and insert the drain…"
But Kabuto kept on working. His hands never stopped; he dug a little further into the body cavity, which put Sakura on edge. "What are you doing?" she asked, noticing that a new nurse had just entered with a container full of ice and a – machine that was used to keep transplant organs healthy. More confused than ever, she looked around the OR incredulously. Every person – the nurses, the techs, the anesthesiologist – was immersed in their task, completely ignoring her bewildered stares. Faintly, she asked, "What's happening…?"
Kabuto ignored her. Instead, he dissected a completely unnecessary groove between the right and middle left hepatic. That's when it happened – a chill skittered down her spine and the vague sense of foreboding she'd been feeling since her conversation with Sasuke that morning finally started to make sense.
She watched with a rising sense of dread and an inexplicable alarm as Kabuto dissected the hepato-caval ligament, divided it between the clamp and finally reached the hepatic vein. Sakura looked around the OR with wide eyes – everyone was calmly doing their assigned tasks – OR nurse and tech's keeping eyes on the sterile field, monitoring the blood pressure, the fist assistant wiping sweat off Kabuto's forehead. Nobody looked like anything was happening out of the norm. Nobody looked like they were helping a doctor steal somebody's liver!
Panicked, Sakura turned back to Kabuto. "Stop! Stop – what are you doing?!"
By now, Kabuto was tying the cystic duct, keeping the threads long. She watched with a growing nausea as he started retracting the CBD. She remembered Kaiza's son, Inari – small and tenacious, barely older than Sarada, in tears because he couldn't understand how his father would ever be able to live without a gallbladder – and now they were taking out a part of his liver. These people – they were smuggling organs out of completely healthy people! It sent her mind reeling – spinning uncontrollably until she felt like she would vomit her guts out right then and there.
"Hold steady, Uchiha-sama," Kabuto finally spoke, voice stable, hands moving imperceptibly faster. "We're almost there."
Sakura realized with slowly dawning horror that he was quite skilled at this, and it made her sick to realize that he'd probably done it many, many times to have gained such proficiency. She watched, speechless and dumbfounded and he started resecting the right portal vein, and was finally about to clamp the arteries when she decided that she couldn't take it anymore.
She saw a split second of opportunity has he raised his right arm to take the clamp from one of the nurses. She quickly grabbed it before he could and whipped his left hand out of the abdomen. All activity around them suddenly ceased. Kabuto finally looked at her. At first, he looked surprised, but then his brow creased in annoyance. Sakura knew it was a ballsy move, but she knew that she could fix the damage yet.
"You're – you're doing a partial hepatectomy – on a patient with a healthy liver!" she stated, getting more and more hysterical by the moment.
The staff around them shuffled uncomfortably. Kabuto narrowed his eyes. "It's a diseased liver with a small tumor," he said, blatantly lying to her face. "I would suggest you consult an ophthalmologist. Now would you let go of my hand? I do have another surgery scheduled in a few hours."
The tone of his voice – so smooth, so congenial, so condescending, grated at her nerves. "You and I both know what's happening – this is violation of the Hippocratic Oath! You're unnecessarily endangering the patient!"
Kabuto looked amused at her chagrin. "I assure you we're not violating any law. All patients are required to sign consent forms and Kaiza-san has already agreed to a possibility of this happening."
Sakura's vision turned red for a second all she felt was a spike of white, hot anger. She took a deep breath through her surgical mask, inhaling the sterile scent of antiseptic and coppery blood before she told herself to calm down and take charge of the situation – because there was no fucking way in hell or high water that she'd let something like this happen in front of her eyes.
"Dr. Yakushi," she said, deliberately making her voice cold and monotonous. "This is certified assault and battery. If you do not step away right this fucking moment I am going to run to the authorities. I assure you that this is not going to end well."
Kabuto slanted his head in her direction. "Oh," he said, snatching his gloved bloody, wet hand out of hers. "You think that will work?"
"You have talked an unknowing patient into an unnecessary surgery. I'm sure the authorities would be quite interested," she told him. But the truth was, she didn't. If Kabuto's slimy little smile was any indication to go by, it was that she was severely misconstruing the situation – that she were only digging up her own grave. This smuggling operation had obviously been going on for a while now, she understood, and suddenly Sasuke's stricken expression this morning made a lot of sense.
She also remembered what he'd told her once, when she'd been recalcitrant and rebelling and in despair. He'd told her that her position in the rengo was precarious at best – that she needed to do everything in her power to stay alive, but – how could she possibly do this? To rob unsuspecting people of their organs? It was truly unfathomable to her! All she could think of in that moment was Inari's small face brimming with worry, and then hope, and she knew that she would do absolutely anything she could to keep things from getting completely out of hand. If Kabuto resumed his surgery, she'd walk out and drive to the nearest police station. She knew of the anti-Yakuza law, and she was willing to bet that this part of the Uchiha business had went under the radar for some time now.
Kabuto must have read something in her eyes, because after a few moments of careful deliberation, he finally stepped away. "I hope you know what you're doing, Uchiha-sama. Because you and I are both going to pay for it."
The first time Sasuke had killed someone, it had been a complete and total accident.
There was a tiny, rundown district at the edge of Konohagakure that was rarely deemed worthy enough to be ruled by either the Senju or the Uchiha. It had eventually been taken over by an overly ambitious thug named Gato, who'd run a counterfeit shipping company not unlike Kasai of the Uchiha. He'd secretly trafficked, smuggled and dealt drugs, and the small rise in his spurious livelihood had gradually gotten to his head.
Although he had been no threat to either the Uchiha or the Senju, he had become quite a pain – and when you became an encumbrance to either of the indigenous rengo, it meant you were going to eventually get annihilated. Gato had been smart, but his pride had overshadowed his good sense and made him stupid.
Sasuke – still a shatei at the time had been sent to deal with him. He'd only ever meant to threaten, or maybe maim him a little. But things had gotten quickly out of hand. Gato had decided to fight for his puny territory and the resulting tussle had resulted in his death. Sasuke had merely thrown a straight, right at the point of his chin, but Gato had been elderly – his eyes had instantly rolled to the back of his head and he'd crashed to the curb, bashed his head in and instantly died.
Brain bleed, he remembered. That incident had propelled him in the ranks of the gokudo – it had given him a reputation. Fugaku had been almost proud, so he'd made himself forget the queasiness, guilt and absolute self-reproach that he'd felt in the aftermath.
That had been the beginning of the end of his morality, and as he rode the elevator to the 36th floor of the Panopticon, he swore to himself that today would not be the end of Sakura's.
The animosity between the Uchiha and Hyuga was in full-force, and Fugaku, as one of the Oyabun's closest and most trusted men was currently leading the recriminations against them. While Itachi focused on the widespread running of all the major operations, Fugaku only handled the most crucial ones. It was one of the reasons he'd been gone early today, and Sasuke knew that he'd find his father in one of the largest conference rooms in the main building.
When he poked his head inside the door, Fugaku barely graced him with the briefest of glances, so he sat in the large, circular waiting area outside. He felt incredibly troubled and extremely upset – as if his heart wasn't in the right place inside of his chest. If he didn't do something – Sakura was going to get in trouble and the notion did not sit well with him.
So he waited, and when his father finally joined him, Sasuke was more than a little crisp with him. "You said you made sure she'd be assigned to the Emergency. She's not."
Fugaku regarded him with a slight curl of his lip, a frown and a fair amount of disdain. "Is this why you called me out?"
That reaction had and hadn't been what Sasuke had been expecting. It instantly set him on edge, made him frenzied, hostile and livid at the same time. "Yes," he almost hissed.
In response, Fugaku gave him that look – the one he'd given him after he'd messed up the goma ceremony when he'd been a child. The one that reminded him of the words that were still etched into his memory. You're impulsive, emotional and unreliable. You disappoint me. "I did my best to assign her to the ER instead," he said coldly. "The Oyabun must have given strict orders. Is that all?"
Sasuke felt his lip curl involuntarily. He'd always harbored feelings of slight hostility towards Fugaku – but they had always overlapped with his inherent urge to please him. But right now, he knew that he was absolutely seething. He knew that he had been and would always be a disappointment to his father, but Sakura – she'd given him that look today. The one that spoke of second chances and maybes and eventual validation. He'd kissed her on the forehead today and she hadn't slapped the fuck out of him. She'd taken out his stitches and told him that she always tried to do the right thing. And Sarada – she'd held him tight and let her Papa break in her small arms and been a complete rock and said words of such love and affection and warmth and assurance and absolution –You know that I – believe in you, right?
He felt helpless and weak and vulnerable.
He felt that the lifelong resentment and acrimony that he'd always harbored towards Fugaku was no longer simmering in that moment – it was boiling over. In that one moment he felt such an incandescent sort of fury building inside every cell of his body as he watched his father's worn, weathered face he was surprised Fugaku hadn't spontaneously combusted yet. He found himself asking, "Why did you save Sarada? When she was dying?"
Because he wanted to understand – what had led this sharp, jaded, cynical man to save that one, frail, yellowing little girl a breath away from death, and why, why, why he wouldn't save her mother now!?
Fugaku's frown deepened, then morphed into an irritated scowl. "Because she is my granddaughter, Sasuke. Regardless of who her mother is, she is one of us – an Uchiha."
Sasuke's blood ran cold at those words. For the first time, he cursed his arrogance and ignorance and stupidity at getting both Sarada and Sakura involved in his family in the first place. He should have sent them packing – hidden them away the moment Madara had bid him to kill Sakura, because right then, he saw in his father's stony gaze; the same hateful expectations, the same shrewd calculation and the same detestable goals he'd always seen – only this time, they were for Sarada. He realized then, that Sarada's existence may have been presented as a fait accompli to him, what he'd done after had essentially redefined her entire future.
"If you're done," said Fugaku in an unsympathetic tone, already getting up. "I have work to do."
And Sasuke could do nothing – nothing at all as he watched his father's retreating back.
A few days ago, Sakura had been so immersed in her research of stem cells and regeneration that when she'd finally remerged, she'd felt a familiar comfort blanket her from the inside out. By the time she'd shaken herself out of the knowledge induced stupor, she'd felt rightfully tired – not wrongfully exhausted. At that time, for just a small, weak, phantasmagorical moment she'd thought that maybe – just maybe, the Uchiha was not so bad. That maybe – deep down, there was still a kernel of good in the rengo. After all, they'd accepted and saved bright, beautiful Sarada.
But now, as she sat trembling inside a small bathroom stall with the phone Sasuke has given her just a day ago, she felt like she was trapped all alone in the belly of evil. Her panic attack may have washed away the lingering anxiety and resentment she'd been feeling but in that moment – she felt dread curling like a deep, dark pit inside her stomach. She felt sick and angry! But more than anything else, she felt terrified. She'd fixed Kaiza and sent him safely to post-op – but she'd noticed how everyone on the staff had been completely on edge.
She wore the Uchiha last name – but in that moment, she realized that she'd never actually be one. She also knew that Madara was going to hear about what she'd done today and she couldn't – didn't want to imagine what he would do to her. But more than anything else she worried that the consequences of her actions would reflect retribution on other people – most notably Sarada, Ino and her parents. Inadvertently, her entire body broke out in a cold sweat, and she immediately dropped the phone, turned around, opened the top of the commode and vomited her guts out. The bile was absolutely rancid and it burned bitter and disgusting on her tongue but she kept retching and retching and retching until there was nothing left in her stomach and her knees trembled at the effort.
Shaking and limp, she flushed the toilet and leaned her head against the cool tiles of the stall. She closed her eyes for a few brief moments, but all that reflected behind her lids was dark and bloody and evil, so she opened her eyes, saw the phone lying an arm's width away and felt her hand reaching out. Briefly, she thought about calling the police – to really stand true to her threat to Kabuto. But could she outrun the consequences? Could she trust the system to beat the gokudo? Was she willing to put Sarada's life at risk just like that? She wouldn't. She couldn't. She was weak that way. If it has been only her…
She knew that she should probably call Sasuke, ream into him a little and ask for backup, but her fingers tapped in a completely different number – one she'd always known by heart.
It rang for only a few seconds before Ino picked up. "Hello? Who is this?"
Belatedly, Sakura realized that Ino didn't have this number, but when she opened her mouth to say something, nothing came out. Her voice was lost and her eyes were burning with tears and she felt deathly afraid. She sniffled and Ino seemed to recognize that small sound.
"Sakura? Forehead – is that you?" she demanded from the other side of the line.
"Mmhm," said Sakura, pursing her lips, not trusting herself not to break down under the familiarity of Ino's bossy tone.
"What's wrong? Are you in trouble? Is there anything I can do? Where are you?" Ino's barrage of questions was so well-meaning and vehement and full of care and love and Sakura felt like she would explode under her scrutiny. So she inhaled a shaky breath, willed her voice to sound as chipper as she could possibly make it under the circumstances, and said, "Nothing! I just missed you – and I – Sasuke finally gave me a phone, so I called."
There was a suspicious quietness on the other side. "O-kaaay. That's – fine I guess. But are you seriously okay? Do you need me to do anything? I can, you know – I'm badass like that."
Oh Ino, Sakura thought with a wealth of love, drawing strength from Ino's tough bluffing. It helped her curb her own helplessness and dread by a few small degrees – enough to gather the strength to finally call Sasuke.
She cleared her throat. "I'm fine, Pig," she told Ino in a falsely cheer tone. "I'll call you later." Then she hung up and took a few deep breaths, stared at the blank screen and finally opened the contact list. There was a single number on there and she tapped on it. While the line rang, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew that she was one sob away from a crying jag. She felt it flood her throat and ring in her ears. Before the first tears fell though, she let her head roll back, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to suppress the fear.
Sasuke picked up on the fifth ring. "Sakura," he said, sounding quietly alarmed.
She could only answer with a strained, anguished sort of a moan, but apparently that was enough to warn Sasuke of what might have happened. She heard him curse on the other side. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding like he was picking up his coat and running out of his office.
All of her earlier defiance had melted away for fear of the consequences – for all the people that the damn gokudo could unleash them on – and she couldn't even summon the righteousness to be angry at Sasuke. So she sniffled and told him everything in the most incoherent way possible, feeling small and scared and thoroughly out of her depth."There was – I think I did something wrong. There might be – they might – I don't know, Sasuke. You should have told me."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'll be there," he told her, for the first time sounding just as terrified as she felt. It did nothing to soothe her nerves. "I'll be right there, okay?"
"Okay," she whispered, beginning to pick herself up.
Sasuke had spent his youth ignorantly chasing the high of the gokudo life – what he thought was his birthright, his legacy, his heritage. But it was only now; when he had a child of his own that he was coming to realize that this bloodshed was no life at all. Yes, it might have been his inheritance, but did he really want to pass it on to Sarada? He truly didn't. In fact, he'd do anything to spare her from it. So he prepared himself to beg the Oyabun, to make any deal with him, so that he'd spare Sakura from the smuggling operation at the hospital. He knew now that Fugaku had neither the inclination, nor the will to save Sakura. He saw her as nothing but a mere liability – but to Sasuke, she was becoming an important tether to his sanity, his life, his daughter.
But the moment Sasuke had heard her breath hitch on the phone – he had known. It was already too late.
The tight knot of distress in his chest had stretched like a tightrope, and all of his premonitions of doom had finally been realized as he'd heard the multiple catches in her voice. As he ran out of his office with Suigetsu on his heels, he'd known that Sakura had done something he'd never had the guts or the wits or the courage to ever do. She'd dared to challenge the gokudo – and now they were going to break her for it.
Itachi was startled when Sasuke suddenly burst into his office, but immediately frowned in concern when he saw his frantic expression. "I need you to keep Sarada away from the compound today," he pleaded. "Pick her up from school. Take her away. Buy her flowers and ice-cream. Go watch a movie – just don't bring her home."
Itachi's brows raised, then furrowed, then crinkled with worry as his eyes sharpened in alarm. He nodded, then asked, "What happened?"
"She – I think they roped Sakura into a surgery today," he explained. They shared a knowing look; then Itachi nodded. "Go."
And Sasuke did. He impatiently took the elevator to the basement, grabbed his car and drove like a mad man to KMC. He parked haphazardly at the gate, walked quickly to the front entrance and pulled out his phone from his pocket to tell Sakura that he was there when he saw her. She sat crumpled and wilted on one of the colorful plastic chairs in the waiting area, clutching her head in her hands, looking utterly defeated. He felt a pang of desolation and heartbreak he always felt now, when she looked so utterly broken. Tentatively, he staggered towards her, stood over her for a moment until she looked at him. Her eyes were rimmed red, and he felt a sharp ache echo inside of himself in commiseration. Silently, he sat down beside her.
She turned to him, looking agitated and frightened. He wanted to put his arms around her and do nothing but hold her tight, but he knew that he needed to prepare her. There would be consequences – and judging by the expression on her face and the frightened look in her eyes, she knew that as well. "Sarada?" she asked, sounding fearful.
"With Itachi," he answered. "He'll keep her out of trouble."
She nodded, looking only slightly relieved. He knew that she wanted to say more – more on why he didn't fill her in, why he would be a part of something like this, why he would make her a part of this – but she reeled it all in, and instead asked, "What now?"
Sasuke looked away at that. He knew that fighting back was going to be thoroughly futile. The two of them – they were outgunned and outnumbered and would definitely be outmaneuvered. The only way to save her would be to trade himself and he knew even without mulling it over that he'd do so in a heartbeat because – firstly, he would never be able to look at Sarada again, who'd expressly told him never to hurt her Mama, if even a single strand of hair on her mother's head was harmed again in any way, shape or had promised.
And secondly because – she was Sakura! Of the shy, hesitant smiles, of the divine taste, of the beautiful soul and heart and body and mind – one of the few brightest, kindest, fiercest, and bravest people he'd ever known in his dark, depressing, utterly pointless life. How could be possibly let anything happen to someone like her? He knew he'd regret it for life.
So he exhaled, resigned and uncomplaining of his fate as he told her, "We'll go back to the compound."
She opened her mouth to waylay over his plan but he didn't let her –
"The Oyabun would know by now. He'd be waiting. He wouldn't appreciate waiting longer," he told her grimly.
She observed his face with thin lips and *steady eyes as she asked, "And then what?"
"I will explain, and I need you to not interfere," he said darkly.
Her eyes narrowed. "What would you explain? He's going to know that I – "
"Sakura," he said firmly, darkly, gently. "I need you to trust me today. Will you please do that?"
She looked positively furious at that. "I already trusted you once today and look where that landed me!"
He knew that already and he would do everything in his power to set things right. "I know," he told her, feeling miserable. "Please."
She softened imperceptibly at that. "At least tell me what you're planning to do."
Trading myself for you, he wanted to say. But he also knew that self-righteous and obstinate and unwavering and fearless as she was, she would never abide by that. So he simply said again, "Please."
She scrutinized his face for one, long, infinite moment. He wondered what she must have seen as her whole body loosened in relent. "Okay," she said uncertainly, and that's all he'd ever needed to hear.
Once upon a time, a million years ago, Uchiha Sasuke had forcibly collected her from Yamanaka Ino's apartment, bought her to his home, imprisoned her and essentially clipped off her wings. On that day, he'd presented her in front of Uchiha Madara and commanded her to not talk back. He'd let her rage at him, but he'd looked at her with nothing but unfettered fury and resentment and bitterness and indignation. She'd raged at him. She'd told him she would never forgive him.
Today, he'd begged her to trust him. He'd pleaded with her to believe in him with her own good will and judgment. When she'd carefully scrutinized his face, she'd firmly believed that had she prodded him some more, he would have told her. But that one word – please – it had been packed with such earnest desperation, such wholeheartedness and sincerity and imploration…she knew that she was probably being an idiot, but her mind had recalled that moment;drawn context and juxtaposition and contrast between the two situations. She'd tried to gauge his thoughts from his expression, but there had been nothing had made an art of shutting people out, of concealing what he thought and felt. She knew she wasn't going to learn anything from watching him, and she knew that he wasn't going to talk. So she'd found herself relenting.
And now they were on their way to the compound, and she didn't know what to expect. To think about the immediate future, to what lied ahead, understanding that she was probably driving straight towards certain doom – it made her jittery and panicky, so in order to distract herself, she found herself asking, "Why did you kiss me today?"
Only the slight tightening of his knuckles on the steering wheel were an indication that he'd heard her – and that he found her question troubling. She studied his profile, waiting for an answer; expecting something along the lines of, it was a mistake – preparing herself for it.
A minute passed, then two. He didn't answer, so she frowned and looked away and was caught completely off guard when he finally answered.
"It was – instinct."
She whipped her head around, but Sasuke's face was once again impassive – but she noticed that his shoulders were tense, as if he were bracing himself for her reaction; her rebuff. Looking at him like that – so ready for rejection, so ready for dismissal – she felt tears of complete heartbreak sting her eyes. She blinked them away, and looked outside the passenger side window, wishing once again, more than anything and harder than everything she'd ever wished for before that their circumstances had been different, that he'd been an average man, that she'd gotten to see him be haplessly in love with Sarada since the start, that they'd fallen in love and lived happily ever after like normal people. This time, she didn't will the small pang in her heart away – instead, she held on to it, nurtured it, let it burn away like a kindling of ember inside her chest.What a loss, she thought. What a terrible loss. If only their world was different.
They rode in silence for a while, and she wasn't really expecting him to say anything else, and was surprised when he asked. "That night – why did you sleep with me?"
Apparently, she thought, riding willingly towards a certain doom bought out the instinct to be honest in people. She swallowed, mulled the question over in her head. Truthfully, she'd asked herself the same thing over a million times during the course of her had she slept with him?
I was drunk.
I was an idiot.
He was too pretty.
He was tall, dark and handsome.
I'm a sucker for aesthetic.
I couldn't help myself.
She'd told herself all of those things, but none of them had ever really rang true. It was just – she'd been just –
She'd just looked at him and her mind had gone absolutely blank while her soul had fired up with an inexplicable sort of want. There you are – mine. Her heart had started to palpitate and maybe, just maybe, her fingers might have tingled. It had been a full-stop moment – like when your entire world had been spinning and spinning and spinning for so long and so much that you'd started to get used to the blur, but then you saw that one face that made all the stars in the entire universe to just pause, rewind and align. This is home. It had been like that.
She'd never admitted that even to herself, and it was like a jolt to realize something so unfathomable at such a pivotal and dangerous moment of her life.
But she didn't know how to explain all of that in coherent words without uselessly denting her pride, and maybe even hurting her ego, and possibly freaking him out and alienating him – so she just smiled a little and said, "I guess – it was instinct."
She caught the barest glimmers of a smile touch the edges of his lips for the briefest of moments at that.
She took a mental snapshot of it in her mind, and closed her eyes. She leaned against the seat for a moment, then decided to say what she'd been dreading the last few months. "If," she started, tilting her head to look at him, "something happens to me today – you have get Sarada out of here."
It wasn't a request. It was a command.
She saw his face tighten. "Nothing will happen to you today," he told her resolutely.
"If – "
"Nothing," he said with such conviction that it took Sakura by surprise, "will happen to you today, Sakura."
She wasn't stupid enough to believe that, but she didn't say anything after.
When they reached the compound, neither of them moved immediately. They simply sat in that car for a few long beats while a tense silence settled over them. Sakura swallowed convulsively and told herself to be brave – she'd done a good thing today, and if she had to pay the consequences for that, then she'd gladly do it. She deliberately didn't let herself think about who else might have to pay for her reckless fortitude.
She finally turned to Sasuke, prepared to tell him that she was ready, but he was already looking at her with an indecipherable expression. She opened her mouth to inquire but was scared out of her wits when a sharp, silvery scythe knocked against the windshield. A careful glance showed that it was held by the deranged, murderous man who'd once accompanied Deidara to Ino's apartment. Fear was her first instinct this time, but distantly she thought, so they only break him out when it's time to terrify people.
"Took you fucking long enough," they heard his muffled voice through the glass. When he drew his scythe away, there was a fine cobweb of delicate cracks spreading out from the point of contact on the glass.
Sakura looked at Sasuke, who looked vaguely annoyed. "Let's go," he told her without even looking at her face and she tried to ignore that her heart sank a little at that. Instead, she followed him out, giving a wide berth to Hidan, who was positively sneering at her. "I'll pay you back for last time," he threatened menacingly.
She didn't know what to say or how to feel – bold or frightened or something completely off the spectrum – and was glad when Sasuke appeared by her side.
"You better not," he told Hidan darkly, menacingly.
Hidan simply angled his head at him, then smirked. "Looks like the puppy's all fucking grown-up," he declared, sounding almost proud, then abruptly pivoted on his heel and started walking. "Oyabun's waiting. Chop fucking chop."
Sakura shared one last grounding look with Sasuke before following. Every turn, every walkway, every yuan seemed like a step closer to an ill-fate and Sakura felt sick to her stomach all over again. All she could do to root herself to reality was to chant, please don't let him hurt anyone else, please don't let him hurt anyone else, please don't let him hurt Sarada, Ino, Otou-chan, Okaa-chan, please, please, please…
Over and over she repeated her mantra, trying to quell the dread in her stomach and just telling herself to breathe.
Hidan briefly stood guard by the door before she heard the now-familiar scraggly voice command a raspy, "Enter."
Today, when the shouji opened, Uchiha Madara was not holding court behind his kotatsu. All the fusuma had been neatly edged along the walls, and there were three other people in the ima. One of them Sakura recognized as the blue-haired woman who'd dragged her to Sasuke when she'd tried her ill-fated escape. The other two were men – one with a band of painful-looking piercings running down his nose and a mop of the brightest orange hair she'd ever seen, while the other was wearing a sweatband around his head while a mask covered the majority of his face. He was casually flipping through some books that looked suspiciously like accounts.
Uchiha Madara stood front and center, observing Sasuke and her grimly.
She followed Sasuke has he deferred in a small bow. "Oyabun– " he said, but Madara waved him away.
"Sit," he commanded, and both of them kneeled beside the kotatsu. "I have been informed of what you did today giri no musume. Tell me," he rasped, almost mournfully, "why would you make such reckless decisions? Have I not been kind to you – have I not granted all your requests?"
Sakura swallowed and looked to Sasuke for some inspiration. She felt like every word she could say would entrap her even further, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.
"Kakuzu," he waved at the masked man, "informs me that I've lost a quarter million today."
"Oyabun– " Sasuke started but was cut off again.
"I allowed you to become Sasuke's sesai – I welcomed you into my family; this is how you pay me back?"
Sakura made the mistake of looking at his face, and it was so hardened, so unfeeling and so unfazed – comparing a man's life, his health, the prosperity and mental wellbeing of his family to a quarter-million dollars! It made all the fear and anxiety in her chest turn to a cold fury. Before she could rein herself in, she found herself saying, "I'd do it again."
She felt Sasuke whip his head around to her in alarm, but she could see now that he only wanted to grovel, and she wanted no part of that. She could tell by the downward moue of Madara's wrinkled mouth that he wanted her dead in that moment – and if that were the case, she was going to go kicking and screaming.
"Oh," he said. "Then tell me, how you will pay me back? Shall we do a yubitsumi? How many fingers will you pay us with?"
Sakura curled her lip, ready to lash back, to tell him that he could go fuck himself, but before she could even find her voice, Sasuke was already speaking. "I will pay in her stead."
Both Sakura and Madara looked at him at that. Sakura felt her eyes widen in disbelief because she suddenly understood what Sasuke had planned, why he'd been so adamant in his belief that she'd come out of this not only alive, but fine, and why he'd asked her to trust him. All of her fury fizzled away in the face of his complete, utter idiocy as she said, "No."
But Madara had already seen her astonishment and immediate dread and his face had already turned considering. She jerked her head between Sasuke and Madara, feeling completely blindsided and fearful and willing Sasuke to turn his head and look at her so that she could tell him that he was being stupid, that he was an idiot, that he was being fucking insane, that he was crazy, that he needed to stay alive because who else was going to take care of Sarada!
"I see," said Madara eventually, looking like he was considering them both carefully. He must have hooked on the desperation on her face because he said. "You must have developed a bond with your partner, Sasuke. Or maybe it is the love you hold for Ojou-sama. I admire and accept your offering. However, your payment in her stead will be two-fold."
"I accept," said Sasuke, without a single drop of hesitance and Sakura felt as if she were slowly being submerged in a completely different reality.
Sakura felt like her dread was choking her alive. It held her throat captive as Madara slanted his head at the woman. Immediately, she was by her side, holding her back and for the second time that day Sakura's mind was reeling because she'd been mentally preparing herself all day to beg for the life and safety of her daughter, her best friend, her parents – but not once did it cross her mind that she'd have to beg for Sasuke!
She looked as Madara nodded at the orange-haired man. "Yahiko-kun," he said, "make it painful."
She sucked in a breath and prepared herself to scream with all her might, but was cut short when the woman caught her arms from behind, pulled her back painfully and slipped a hand onto her mouth. She thrashed as Yahiko unsheathed a long sword from his hip and let out a muffled, wide-eyed, desperate cry as Sasuke – Sasuke, who'd she'd once hated with every fiber of her being, Sasuke, who was always weak with love for his daughter, Sasuke, who'd been trying so hard to make up for all that he'd done wrong, Sasuke, who'd been gradually repenting, Sasuke, who'd broken to pieces in their daughter's arms, Sasuke, who'd kissed her forehead on instinct – prepared himself like an offering.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as Yahiko cut a deep, painful looking slice across Sasuke's back. Blood bloomed red across the sleek line of his shirt, and Sakura saw his face tighten in pain. She watched, squirming in the woman's grip as Yahiko cut another, then another, then another and another slice across his back, each one deeper than the last. On and on it went, until he was panting; face pale, sweating and scrunched up with pain and back drenched with blood – but not once did he complain.
She squirmed and twisted and convulsed – tried to scream past the woman's hand – as Yahiko circled forward, sword ready because she knew the moment the sharp edge of that katana hit Sasuke's abdomen, there was going to be some irreparable damage. If he sliced into the liver, intestines or any other organ in the perennial cavity, it could lead to sepsis or – or Sasuke's guts could start leaking out, leading to a slow, painful death.
She tried to voice her distress but could get nothing more than a muffled cry as quick as a flash, Yahiko sliced a long, painful-looking gash from one side of Sasuke's abdomen to another.
Then he sliced a quick gash into Sasuke's forearm and both Sasuke and Sakura simultaneously cried – him, in pain; her because she knew that if Yahiko hit a tendon, Sasuke's entire arm could lose function!
She let out a low, keening moan, desperate for this torture to stop, legs losing their strength as her knees gave out and she started falling to the floor. Madara must have noticed her distress because he finally raised a hand, and immediately Yahiko stopped. His smile was slow, sinister and goading. Her vision was blurry with tears and she could hear Sasuke panting through the pain. All she could feel in that moment was a deep-seated hatred for that old man and a thrumming sort of panic for Sasuke.
"We shall take two of your fingers, Sasuke. It is the price of her disrespect – and it the price of your honor to stand in her stead."
Horrified, Sakura could only watch as Yahiko let go of his sword, then unearthed a small, sharp-looking tanto from his shirt pocket. It was almost ritualistic, the way he spread out a small white napkin in from of Sasuke's hunched form, grabbed his left hand, and neatly sliced Sasuke's pinky and ring finger with a clean, surgical precision.
Sakura screamed right along with Sasuke as a fountain of blood gushed out of his hand, and he finally passed out. The woman let go of her and her knees immediately hit the floor. Her head spun and bile rose up her throat, but before she could vomit, Madara was in front of her, gently tilting her face up. "The next time you cost me good business, giri no musume, it will be out of you that we shall cut out the loss. And if not you – then everyone you hold precious to your heart. I hear your father is very sickly. It would be a shame if he suddenly passed away."
Sakura didn't think her being could run any colder than it already had but that threat – it broke something inside of her. She nodded her head, and Madara turned as if to walk away. At the last moment, he turned around, considered her with a frown of contempt, took a long drag from his kiseru so that the tip burned bright. She watched, the despair inside her once again turned to horror as he took off the tip of the pipe, then pressed the burning tip of the kiseru onto her clavicle. Logically, she knew that she ought to feel pain, the sear of nerve receptors being burned away, the sting, the hotness, the smolder of her flesh giving way – but she felt none of it even as she grit her teeth. All she could see was the mocking scowl on Madara's face transform into a satisfied smirk as he pulled the pipe away.
"A mark for your insubordination," he said, finally turning away. "Yahiko-kun," he addressed the man with the tanto, pointing his gnarled hand at Sasuke's bleeding form. "Get rid of this mess. And make sure he doesn't get to the hospital."
Through the shell-shock of that command, Sakura's being managed a small flare of anger. But she bit her tongue to keep quiet as both she and Sasuke's prone body were unceremoniously dragged out onto the yuan outside.
The shouji slammed shut on their backs, and she didn't know, couldn't comprehend, couldn't understand how she was going to make Sasuke live.
tbc
Thank you to Abbey and Gwen.