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tracing shadow witness silent seamed participant

-o-

The water rushed. Sakura stared at the grey stones under her feet and thought she saw instead the white tiles of the Oto base. If she wanted to, she could still feel the raw decay of overly wet skin on her feet. She could smell rot and shit and vomit. When she closed her eyes and flexed her hands, she could feel a hilt held tightly in her fingers.

Had she really brought something back with her from the experiments? Or had that thing been inside her since long before then?

Sakura opened her eyes and leaned her head back under the spray of the shower head. She was in a training facility for ANBU operatives, one of a number in the village, down in its locker rooms stood in a stall lined with stones. Grey stones, low light, quiet. It was very different from the base in Otogakure, but even though she looked different too, Sakura was still the same from that time.

She flexed her hand again, remembering another grasp on it – fleeting and desperate and distant – and thought, she had shifted, maybe.

In an hour she was to ship out with her newly assembled specialists team, heading for Sunagakure. She hoped to see her ANBU captain before departure; a part of her needed to fill Ken in on the developments and he in turn would send the information along to his superior.

As a spy, as a kunoichi, she was of two minds: There was the side of her that carried the well fed and gore saturated sword from the base in Otogakure, when she had gone beyond survival and edged on indulgent. She could turn this blade on others and on herself. There was also the part of her that held the hand of a corpse against her lips in an attempt mimic something like love and support. And between these two minds, there was one particular thing with which both sides of her agreed. It involved Ken and then a whole lot more, and it was the driving motivation behind all her actions.

But while she needed to talk to Ken, did she need to talk to him?

It wasn't that she was losing track of what she had to do versus what she wanted to do. Everything was connected and very complicated.

The door to the locker room opened and she heard the soft footfall of someone walking inside, unhurried, thoughtful, and steady.

Ken stopped around the corner from the shower stalls, maintaining a respectful distance, allowing her privacy.

She cut off the water, listened to its trickling patter as the stream slowed and then stopped. Warm mist circled around her and she shivered as the coolness of the room infiltrated its borders.

"Sakura?" Ken asked, his voice rough from disuse. He had been on a four day exercise with another squad, helping them prep for an op she couldn't know about, and it was apparent from his simplified, sans armour uniform that he had been travelling rigorously. It sounded like he hadn't slept very well in the meanwhile. There was the lingering scent of oil and old blood on him, mixing over the more tangible smell of exhaustion, stress, and exertion.

She found his presence somehow invigorated her more than her shower had. She had to abate the thrill she felt rousing within her with a quick, deep breath.

"I've been put on an assignment," Sakura answered him. She took her towel from the wall hook and pressed it to her face and then very loosely to her front. Another breath and she stepped out from the showers to face Ken. Bare foot and with him fully in uniform, she felt their differences in physicality very starkly. He was broad and steady, a tension in him like a string waiting to be drawn and snapped.

To him she was a clean slate, Sakura thought, with a spider's web of fractures that he traced in anticipation of her breaking.

Ken appraised her, not quite lifting an eyebrow at her appearance. He inclined his head fractionally, and she watched his eyes sweep her body.

She also thought – she could break him, if she wanted. Bared or not. Her hand twitched and she rubbed the tips of her fingers together.

"Will you be in the village?" He asked.

"I'll be busy," she told him instead. Her hands signalled a code for Suna, with an estimate of two weeks duration. More, maybe. "You'll be getting the notice for my temp in case you're to get called up while I'm absent."

'Is this direct from the Hokage?' He signed back.

Sakura nodded.

"Thanks for the heads up." Ken took his weight from one foot to the other, leaned his body against the wall next to him. He remained open and turned towards her. His hand reached for her, traced up her arm to stop a stray drop of water running over her skin. He watched her, and his expression conveyed what his lips didn't. Why had she really called for him?

Things were complicated and far too often, Sakura lived roles and didn't step out from those expectations. Ken recognised some of that in her; he was maybe the same, but even he operated with more freedom than she did, she thought. Sakura lived trapped inside her head, caught up in analysis and deductions and calculations.

Why had Kakashi come back for her in the street?

Kakashi had a role and he was loyal to the Hokage. For all he told her about team work and loyalty to one's friends, weren't all her friends asked to die in service to Konoha? They were told it was a great thing. As much power as individual shinobi and kunoichi had, they were subservient to some greater machine ticking inside the Tower, answering a directive from an office further away. For this mission, had Kakashi as well not been a cog in the workings all along?

Had his complacency shifted? Did he see the spiralling like she did?

Take a monster and hold it inside you, they asked.

Become too much of that monster and then what? Sakura wondered. She thought she might know the answer.

She was in two minds, because she could understand the necessity of controlling power. But she questioned it, too – swirled the pondering like smoke dispersing into the shadows. They were thoughts she couldn't admit aloud.

Ken was still in front of her, patient with her contemplation and waiting for something. He must have noticed how her pulse was picking up, he must have seen her trembling from it. He could hear her thoughts in the way her body betrayed her.

Sakura lowered her towel and stepped closer to him. He was surprised, very mildly, and didn't immediately withdraw or respond. She saw his lips part, eyes lowering as he followed her movements, and a quiet exhale left him. Her heart started a fast tempo under her ribs, knocking the bones like a call tapping for his answer.

"Have you been with anyone – ?" He started to say, his touch on her arm tentative and reassuring and moving with her.

Not since her time undercover in the Contested Territory with Shoma. And Shoma had been a gentleman towards Reina, despite everything Sakura had trained for and expected. He had burned, too, screaming and then silent but for the rushing of flames, and sometimes when she tried to find relief and release for herself she would remember that. She was too caught up in her own head.

"Yes," she said.

Ken might have known she was lying. She didn't really care if he did, the result would be the same either way.

Sakura took his hand from where it had stopped on her upper arm and moved it to her face. His palm was the perfect size for resting her jaw and cheek. The texture of his glove was rough on her lips and gritted with dirt against her tongue. He snatched it away from her while his other hand moved to the back of her head, gripping her. The glove was between his own teeth and then his hand was free and back at her face. Warmth once more and she mirrored how he held her, indulging her hands in his soft hair and encouraging him to lean down to her. Their faces were close and the air between them stirred with the proximity.

She was leaving the village and she wondered how it would change her this time. Was she ready for it? Could she handle another twist in her back? Sakura was a series of turns and new perspectives, drilling deeper into something. Where would it end? How much of her would remain then, or would she sink completely below the surface into the depths?

"Will I come back?" She asked him, her eyes looking into his, finding all the golden fractures shining in his dark gaze. He was molten and enticing and everything he was meant to be and just what she needed, because he frowned with sympathetic worry and nodded with sure conviction.

She didn't ask him if she would live; rather would she survive?

"I'll be here when you return," he assured her, "always, apprentice."

Sakura winced her reassured smile, her eyes closing as she breathed in his presence. She kissed him.

Ken moved with her, meeting everything she gave as best he could, timid only for a beat before answering.

They caught up in one another, her skin against fabric, her knees against white tiles, her hips against his.

He gave her what he could but a part of her wished he would say her name again. But that might be another lie, too.

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-o-

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