title Daisy chain
summary All of this was for…
Sakura waited in her hotel room. For the night, at least. She suspected that Itachi wasn't exactly in the most reasonable state of mind at the moment.
She painted her nails, blowing on them every once in a while as she flipped through channels on the TV. They were the shade of cheap cherry candy. The kind that coated a tongue with a saccharine, medicine taste. She ordered room service, ran her finger down the list to pick whatever stood out to her. Wondered, idly, why raw foods often cost more than cooked food as she picked a tuna carpaccio apart. She burnt her way through a cigarette, shivering against the wind.
The front desk called around 9pm to let her know that she had a visitor. The same man from the night before. She had them send him through security, chuckling at the guard's suspicion. As if she needed protecting from him.
She met him at the door. Opening it just a crack. Enough for the muzzle of her Desert Eagle to meet his chest. His eyes were a little wild. So was his hair. She could tell that he had tried to tame it a little. Opening the door wider, she studied his posture. Clicked her tongue.
"Yau mou gau cho ah? Get in here," she sighed, pulling him in by the arm.
Sakura wondered how the hotel hadn't noticed the blood dripping off his raw knuckles. Maybe he had put his hands in his pockets. She peeled his coat off as soon as the door shut behind him. Eyed the red stains all over his tailored shirt.
"Are those yours?" she asked. Closing his eyes, he shook his head.
"Not most of them," Itachi responded.
She clicked her tongue again. She gave his shoulder a light push in the direction of the bathroom. Her palm came away wet with blood. She said nothing else as she walked off towards the opposite end of the suite. Trying not to notice the look in his eyes too much.
He didn't come to find her until nearly an hour later. She sat in the living room, curled up on one end of the sofa. His hair damp, dressed in just his slacks. Barefoot like her. He reached over her shoulder, pulling up her left arm. He examined the scabbed wound on her forearm. Thumb running over the back of her hand.
"This is going to scar," he told her. She scoffed at his knuckles. The skin was torn off them. Like he had punched something over and over with all his strength. He could have at least had the sense to borrow Kisame's brass knuckles.
She tilted her head back to look at him. Besides some scratch marks on his shoulders and a big bruise on his side, he didn't look too bad. His face, at least, was untouched.
Sighing, Sakura got to her feet. She walked back toward the bedroom, grabbing a bottle of wine off the room service cart on her way. After a moment, she heard him follow. Between swigs straight from the bottle of Pinot Noir, she bandaged his wounds. Occasionally, Itachi took it to have a drink too. He didn't complain, even though she wasn't particularly gentle.
She sat behind him. Staring into the oni tattoo on his back. The great black eyes and lolling tongue leered back at her. At the base of his spine was a cluster of peonies. The same color as the blue tarp Sai used to keep himself from making a mess. Pools of dark red gathering in the wrinkles and the footprints he left.
Sakura rested her hand on the oni.
"Is Inuzuka Kiba dead?" she asked.
"No. But the one who did that is," Itachi replied. He took the wine from her. Finished the bottle.
He reached back. Still not looking at her. His hand rested on her thigh, sliding down to grasp her knee. Just held it. Like he was trying to make sure that she was still there.
And then, he spoke again. His voice low and tight.
"What're you trying to do, Sakura?" he questioned.
"What do you mean, Kumicho?" she asked, voice light.
It was only then that he looked over his shoulder at her. Eyes piercing through her. She felt the breath slip out of her at the intensity there. And a smile spread across her lips. She reached out, palm smoothing over his cheek. Touch as tender as could be.
"You really don't trust me," she said as she looked into his eyes. He held her gaze. There was something a little sad there. She nodded.
"You learn quickly," Sakura added, her hand slipping away. But he caught it. Pulling it against his cheek again.
"That might be true. But you're still mine, aren't you?" he asked her.
She smiled again. This time, the way her lips stretched felt different.
"As long as you want me to be," she answered.
Late that night, she snapped beside his ear again. His eyelashes didn't even flutter. She slipped out of bed, pulling his shirt on over her shoulders. She slipped out onto the balcony to burn a cigarette. And she pulled out a burner phone. Smoke drifted up from between her fingertips as she waited.
"You got my message from Charlie?" Sakura demanded.
"Yeah, Boss. Do you really think the Kumicho speaks Cantonese?" asked Tenten in turn.
"Can't be too careful," Sakura replied. Tenten grunted.
"Anyway, come out the back. We're in the laundry van in the alley. Charlie took care of paying off the staff. When you give us the word, they'll shut off the security cameras until you're out," Tenten explained.
Sakura glanced back at the bedroom. At her suitcase open by the window. And then at the lump of Itachi laying in the bed. Head buried under one of the pillows.
"Alright. I'm heading down in 10," she said. She disconnected the call.
Sakura finished the rest of her cigarette, buttoning up Itachi's shirt as she did. She stubbed it out on the ashtray she had left out here. And then stepped back into the room. She ignored her suitcase. Only pulled on the clothes she would need. Hooked her fingers into her heels as she moved past them.
She paused at the foot of the bed. Watched Itachi for a moment. At the way his back rose and fell. If he wasn't really sleeping, then he really was a talented actor. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong profession in life.
"Hm. I kind of liked you better when you weren't so smart," she sighed.
Pulling her fur coat over her shoulders, she slipped out of the hotel room. Easing the door shut so that the latch barely clicked.
She stepped into her heels, striding down the plush carpeting.
Sakura stood in the corner of the elevator, finger resting on the trigger of her Desert Eagle hidden inside her coat. As Tenten had promised, the security cameras had gone dark. The red light that normally blinked on them stilled for the time being. And it was so late that there was really no one else around in the vast hotel. She hurried past the front desk. The concierge glanced up at her, froze, then looked back down at his computer, pretending he hadn't seen her.
The white van sat in the alley, just as Tenten had promised. And the woman herself opened up the back door. Chouji sat in the driver's seat. Charlie sat beside him, smiling when he spotted her through the window.
Tenten offered a hand to pull her into the back of the van. Slamming the door shut.
"We've gotta switch cars before we leave Tokyo," Tenten told her. Sakura nodded. It would look strange for a laundry van to be wandering around the city at this time of night. Before she could ask, Tenten offered a fresh box of cigarettes.
Sakura smiled.
Tobirama paused at his front door. Keys frozen in his hand. Something felt wrong before he even opened it up. He pulled his gun from the holster hidden under his jacket. Pushing the door open inch by inch.
It was dark inside the apartment. The security system by the door hadn't gone off. Everything was exactly the way he had left it. But as the light from the hall flooded in, it became even more apparent that something was off.
A bottle of expensive whiskey sat on the counter. The kind made with crystal. Not the cheap ones with the twist-off cap.
He kept his revolver raised. Slipping out of his shoes to slink barefoot through the apartment.
The bedroom door was ajar. He inched it open, finger crooked around the trigger.
"Pok gaai, Jing-Mei!" he swore, lowering his firearm when he recognized the silhouette.
Sakura lay on her side on the bed. Her shoes discarded on the floor. She sat up, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes.
Sighing, Tobirama raised the switch on the wall. The lights above the bed glowed. She rubbed at her face. He paused to take in her haggard expression.
"You look like shit," he observed, shedding his leather jacket. He tossed it onto the dresser. Moving into the bathroom to wash his hands. He emerged, wiping his hands on a towel just as she raised her hand to push her hair out of her eyes. He froze.
"Wei. What... the fuck is that?" Tobirama demanded, pointing at the jagged scab running up her forearm.
"It's a fucking sunburn. What the fuck does it look like, fun cheung?" she snapped.
His eyes narrowed. Tossing the towel aside, he moved to stand by the bed. Glaring down at her, arms crossed over his chest.
"And why are you here?" he then asked.
"Diu lei lo mo, you're the one that begged me to come back," she growled, rolling over onto her other side. So that her back was facing him. He scoffed when he noticed that her shirt was too big. .
"Things not going well with the boy toy? Looking for a pity fuck?" Tobirama snarked at her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. And the look in her face made his sneer dissolve.
"...Okay," he sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed. Hunched over as he lit up a smoke. He managed to get through a few puffs before the mattress shifted. Sakura sat up, crawling over to him. He held out the box to her before she could ask.
He closed his eyes as she leaned in close. Lighting her cigarette against the tip of his. Her hand resting against his forearm for balance. And then she moved back a little. Sitting down beside him. He listened to her shaky exhale.
"Hey, Tobirama," she said after a long time.
"Hm?"
"Do you think my life is shitty because I'm a bad person or I'm a bad person because I'm shitty?" Sakura asked. And he almost laughed at that. Like he hadn't wondered the very same thing himself a hundred times before.
"Does either one of those make you feel better?" Tobirama questioned in return.
There was a pause. And then he felt her weight sag against him. She shook her head.
Snorting again, he shrugged. "Then does it matter?"