"Shopping."
Naruto blinked at her. "Ah…what? Did you hear me? Tsunade baa-chan finally said we can go after Sas-"
"I need to go…" Sakura paused, stared blankly into space for a moment. "Shopping."
"For what?"
Sai was a little too astute, Sakura thought. She picked up her wallet and gave a firm two-fingered over her shoulder. She made sure to keep her pace casual—neither too slow nor too fast. When she had fully exited the apartment building, however, she shunshined into an alley a kilometer away that she knew would be abandoned.
She hadn't even fully corporealized before her fist was swinging. It landed with a satisfying crunch into the brick wall work, causing the neat hierarchal stacks to crumble in on themselves.
"Fuck," she whispered, the word swallowed by the sound of her small act of destruction.
Sasuke—Sasuke was like a seasonal cold that she couldn't get rid of. No matter how hard she tried to forget about him, he kept coming back. And now there was the added complication of Shisui, the crow's, expectations.
And the actual Shisui's as well.
Sakura cursed under her breath. The ritual for the sharingan had messed up everything. She wished she had known the outcome then and had decided to rebel against the crow that day after all.
Biceps straining against an invisible force, Sakura stood for one moment in utter stillness, before mustering the will to push off from the wall. Her fingers twitched lifelessly, and soon, her visage was that of Saori Mori's. She affixed her ANBU mask and rejoined the crowd on the streets.
It didn't take her long to find Kanami and Kane's. Operated by a brother and sister, the weapons shop was a veritable fortress, extending half a kilometer in total. It was the premiere source of weapons in the Hidden Village; in point of fact, every weapon cost enough to outvalue gold in its equivalent weight.
While technically, any shinobi could purchase weapons from Kanami and Kane's, the cost was greatly subsidized for ANBU. Sakura couldn't afford weapons here as herself, but she could as Saori Mori.
As always, not long after stepping one foot inside, Kanami appeared with all the forewarning of a sudden apparition. Unsurprisingly, she looked just as she had her first visit. Sakura had been here many times over the past three years, and yet, she had never actually observed the aging process in the other woman. Her hair was pure white—from time, Sakura knew, because paintings on the wall showed her once with midnight black locks—but only a few lines on her face otherwise betrayed her.
"Crow-san," the handsome woman greeted, tilting her head down. Sakura returned the gesture.
"How can my sister and I help you today?" Sakura's gaze flicked to the left and found Kane. Like his sister, he too wore his hair long, but it still contained streaks of black.
"Just browsing," she muttered.
"Is there a particular section we can direct you toward?" Kane asked politely. Which was fair. The shop was large enough with so many hidden rooms that, if she had to guess, very few shinobi in existence understood the whole layout.
"Katanas," she said after a short pause. She might have imagined it, but she felt a slight vibrating suddenly from the blade strapped to her back.
Kanami's green gaze was penetrating. "You've never once purchased a long blade from us," the woman noted quietly, her infamous memory proving itself one more.
"I wasn't interested until now," she said shortly, hoping that would end the conversation.
It did. Without another word, the pair directed her through a seeming maze of rooms until they reached a large, red hall. Here, blades gleamed brilliantly against their crimson backdrop. Other individuals, most clothed in the characteristic black and grey of black ops forces, also roamed the displays.
"Call once you've made your choice," Kanami said softly. She disappeared with her brother, the slight smell of cinnamon left in the air after their departure.
Sakura turned on her heel. Stretching her hand out stiffly, she grabbed the first blade she found and spun it in her hand. It whistled through the air, catching the light like a flash of lightning. She flipped it, testing the feel of the handle. Too decorative, she decided. There was unnecessary weight there. She placed the katana back and stalked past its neighbors—each more extravagant than the last (were these for daimyos or actual shinobi?)—until she reached a more understated set of katanas.
Her gaze flicked impatiently over the row of blades, stopping only when she saw a slim, generally modest blade, which only stood out because of its unusual color. Grey-black, like charcoal, she reflected; it was…oddly compelling.
The Voice hummed impatiently in the back of her mind.
Slowly, she made her way to it. Her fingers wrapped around the simple handle, and she lifted the katana to test its swing. It seemed to sing through the air.
Delicious, the Voice moaned.
"Found it?"
"Fuck!" Sakura choked out, eyes flaring wide. She stopped herself just in time, the blade a scarce millimeter from the Kane's throat.
He raised a brow, giving the appearance that this tended to happen to him often.
"You would think, by now, that you and your sister would learn to stop appearing out of nowhere—"
"Or that you ANBU would learn to pay more attention to your surroundings," he responded evenly, scrawling out the price on a piece of parchment.
"I do," Sakura said sourly, "I just tend to swing first and ask questions after." She handed over the requested amount of money, unable to help the wave of gloom that swept over her at her now mostly empty pouch.
"Enjoy your purchase," he responded, his form starting to blur tellingly.
"Wait, Kane-san, I'm finally done! Here, I've got all the money pulled out…" A hand promptly dropped a blur of coins into the older man's open one just as he vanished.
The new masked face turned belatedly to look at Sakura. She blinked back.
"Oh," Tortoise said.
"I'm sorry," Sakura said, clearing her throat, leaning against a lamp post outside the weapons shop. "I hope… what I did that night didn't have any repercussions for you."
Tortoise stared at her silently for a moment. "None, actually," she said finally. "Which was…an unexpected boon."
Sakura nodded in agreement, brow furrowing. Neither of them had been punished—unlikely, all in all. Tortoise, of course, had truly done nothing. But Sakura…well, she had been outright insubordinate.
"Let's head into the forest. I have more to say, and we have no privacy here."
After a moment of consideration, Sakura followed her, until they were well masked by a thick spread of trees from the dirt paths of Konoha, at least visibly.
"There were no repercussions," Tortoise said lightly, "But that doesn't make what you did okay."
Sakura raised a brow.
"You didn't know we would both go unpunished when you did it," the other woman pointed out. "When you went after those ANBU captains."
"I didn't," Sakura acknowledged.
"And I asked you to stop."
"I did try," she attempted blandly.
"No, you didn't. Not really," Tortoise returned, "You clearly have a temper."
Her words, Sakura reflected somewhat apologetically, had no more effect on her than that of a stern teacher on a particularly uncaring, errant student. She couldn't really bring herself to…care. Not about this, at least.
"You didn't actually do anything," Sakura pointed out. "They can't demote you for getting frisky in a club, you know."
Tortoise was silent in response to that, which she took to mean she had won that point. Maybe, Sakura would have felt differently now if the stakes had been different. As it stood, however, nothing she had done could have harmed anything more than Tortoise's paranoid sensibilities. Which she had, in fact, initially attempted to appease.
The black-haired ANBU let out a huff of incredulous laughter. "You really are an asshole, aren't you?"
Sakura wasn't sure how to respond to that. Or if she was meant to. Purple eyes rested with some strange emotion on Sakura's face.
Tortoise gave another incredulous exhale. "It's still kind of hot."
Suddenly, she was pushing Sakura back against a tree. Sakura let it happen, mostly in shock at not having expected it at all—first Kane sneaking up on her, now this?—but when fingers brushed the bottom of her mask, her hand snapped up instinctively to shackle her wrist.
"It's all fake anyway, isn't it?" Tortoise breathed, pupils dilating. "Look, I'll do mine first."
True to her words, and without an iota of hesitation, one hand curled around the bottom of her mask and pulled up. Large purple eyes and arched brows were revealed above a soft, sensitive mouth.
"Now you." And Tortoise was pulling again, and this time Sakura's face—her fake face—met the cool air.
The other woman pressed forward eagerly, until soft, gently warm lips brushed Sakura's. She stayed like that for only a moment, though, before tilting her head so that their lips slotted more firmly together.
Sakura drew back a second later, blinking.
"Is something wrong?" Tortoise asked, a soft, seductive hunger in her voice.
"N-No. Or rather," she said, brow furrowing. Why had she pulled away? It hadn't been unpleasant.
"Shh," the ANBU murmured, leaning in again. As their tongues curled together, the shorter woman's body curled into hers, angling up so that her breasts brushed against her own. It felt nice. Very nice. But it still wasn't—
She pushed back, holding Tortoise back now by her hips, which were… Well, quite nice as well, actually. But there had been a reason she had moved away—
"Interesting, what happens in the seven hours it takes to catch a scent."
Sakura's breath caught in her throat and her head jerked to the side.
He stood there in full ANBU regalia—even with the porcelain mask, for once. Rather than limiting the force of his gaze, the red lining framing the openings for eyes made his all the more prominent, all the more potent.
Horror set in. She knew there must had been something like naked panic on her face. She had expected him to come after her, of course—but not like this, not so soon. She hadn't even thought about it when she had put on the disguise. So stupid.
"Granted," he told Sakura, "for six and a half , I was outside Konoha on a mission."
Tortoise shifted, her body positioned just barely behind Sakura's now as she darted glances between the two of them. "Has he…has he entered one of those episodes of madness that everyone talks about?" the other woman whispered.
Sakura couldn't quite remove her gaze from Kakashi.
Tortoise's form stiffened against her. "Or," she said, voice returning to normal volume now, "is there—is there something between the two of you?"
She scowled and found her voice. "No—"
"Yes," Kakashi said, with something like savagery. "Leave."
Sakura stiffened as well, stance becoming more combative. Tortoise pressed more closely into her, her breath a nervous flutter against Sakura's neck. She felt Kakashi's eyes examine the motion.
"If she doesn't leave," the copy-nin drawled, voice a rasp. Killing intent radiated from him, every long, powerful limb held in exquisite restraint. His sharingan spun as it rested on Tortoise, who flinched back.
"No," Sakura said, voice soft and eyes hard.
Kakashi's eyes roved over her with a feral, manic rage. "I want to," he snarled.
"Crow," Tortoise began.
"You should probably leave," Sakura said calmly, eyes flicking to her.
The other woman nodded and began to move—only to halt again as she realized she wasn't being followed. Tortoise looked at her incredulously. "You're staying," she said, lips turning down.
She waited, but Sakura remained still, silent. With one final glance, with the air of something like accusation, Tortoise shunshined away.
Sakura's mouth tightened as she turned back. "You shouldn't have followed me."
"As I said before," Kakashi observed coolly, eyes darkening. "don't be coy."
Air hissed out from between her teeth. "I think we can both acknowledge that this, whatever this is, is a terrible idea—"
The mask—both masks—slid off Kakashi's face, until she was staring directly at the devastating cruelty of his features, their heartless beauty. Her breath caught, and his eyes flashed knowingly.
"And yet it's inevitable," he was behind her now, his breath just brushing her ear, "isn't it?"
Sakura tensed. He was so close, but he wasn't actually touching her. The distance, precisely because it was so little, made her want to—
"You know it too," he whispered, voice simultaneously ravenous and livid, "or you wouldn't have pushed her away."
"That had nothing to do with you."
"I can smell you," he hissed, dragging his nose up the line of her neck, "so don't lie to me."
Sakura cursed with feeling.
Kakashi laughed coldly. "You recoiled from her. But with me?"
She could feel the planes of his chest against her shoulder blades, against the muscles and scars of her back. She had moved into him.
She shifted, teeth bared. "Don't ask me questions I won't answer."
"Don't touch anyone else," he demanded, face livid. "Don't let them touch you." His hands manipulated her with unmistakable sadism, just shy of genuine pleasure. A tease. A fucking tease.
"Don't," she choked out.
"Don't what," he breathed above her mouth, just millimeters away, holding himself back. Holding himself back from her, even as she strained to take him. Devour him. Have him.
"Don't be…" she strained for him, nostrils flaring with rage, "cruel."
His callous expression diminished. Perhaps, it was her words. Or maybe her voice, which betrayed more than she intended it to.
"Then don't drive me mad." And he kissed her.
Despite what some part of her, insidious and rebellious and against greater reason, had always contemplated, it was not hard and fast and punishing; nor, however, was it slow and sweet. Mostly, perhaps, because that would have required constancy and predictability, and neither of them were the sort to ascribe to such pillars.
If there were such pillars—pillars of fucking.
Mostly, indeed, she was incredulous that he fit in her: the full, steely length of him—the width too, because of course, yes, the bastard was significantly larger than anything she had ever thought could comfortably fit. She was arrogant, too, that she was strong enough then to take the full feral, brunt of his thrusts and match him, overpower him at times, knot her hands in his silver mess of hair and make him kneel for her, until he flipped her over and drove into her from behind.
And then, also—even then, though she might never have imagined it, had never allowed it before—it was glorious.
She could do no more that pant, voice gone and thoughts in total disarray, as her fingers scrambled for purchase on some surface—any surface—to tide her through it all. But the bark beneath her fingers merely gave way until she was on the ground again, and he was still behind her, slower now, even more powerful, twisting his hips so that the molten length of him only just brushed that part inside of her, and she screamed at him, raged at him, cursed at him for more, and he held her through it all, the sound of his low breathing sounding like begging to her ears.
Her fingers touched him greedily, harshly enough—she knew—to leave bruises on his pale skin. And she was all the more glad for it, unconscionably pleased, because then anyone who ever saw him would know…
"Bastard," she snarled.
His thumb, calloused and rough and divine, kneaded the locus of nerves above where they were joined, and Sakura screamed.
"Kakashi," she spat out, like it was hateful—but there were tears in her eyes, and they were from pleasure, sheer, mindless pleasure—"Kakashi, Kakashi, Kakashi—"
He groaned against her mouth, and she locked her legs around him more strongly, forcing his hips into her, so that he was deeper in her than he had been before. His sharingan spun in a dizzying blur, as though memorizing her broken expression at the resulting bliss.
The sight of it inspired a burst of insanity.
"Bet no one's made you wrecked like this,"—mindless filth spilled from her mouth—"wish you could say my name, wish I could make you scream it for me—"
"Give it," he demanded.
"No questions," she warned, eyes flashing. Then, because it felt too good, her head fell back again. "Fuck, just, the way you—"
Kakashi snarled too, sounding like he had been wounded. "Like it's mine," he seethed, in response to her unfinished remark. And then his hips pistoned even faster, as though he couldn't bear to be outside her.
"Fu-uck," Sakura cried out, undulating with him, against him, to make the violence of it even more devastatingly sweet. "Please, please, please…"
He wrested her thighs apart, held her open as he thrust into her. And this was infinitely worse and infinitely better, and she was against a tree for fuck's sake, her pants rucked down to her knees, her shirt torn and hanging desperately to her arms, his clothes no better, and she wanted to ruin him. Ruin him so thoroughly that she owned him, so that he would be hers, so that she could—
She didn't know who came first, but the strength left her first. And then he leaned into her, and that was no good, because they were on the ground now, and he was shuddering around her.
Eventually, they were both still.
She felt him behind her, his breath caressing the side of her damp neck. Long, calloused fingers curled around her hip, helping him press his cock greedily into her, even though he was softening, even though he had just come.
And it was just as Sakura realized she couldn't bear the thought of emptiness, that she realized the monumentality of the mistake she had made. She wrenched his hand from her and moved forward, forcing him to slip out of her—ignoring the feeling of his cock dragging against her walls, causing unintended spasms of pleasure—before she stood up.
She began adjusting her clothes, using minor jutsus to fix the damage done. Kakashi's eyes didn't leave her once, claiming her nakedness with presumptuous authority.
"This was a mistake," she told him.
She turned to leave. She didn't make it.
"Fuck," Sakura gritted out, fist colliding with the trunk of a tree. It cracked and split. She breathed heavily. "You won't thank me for this, Kakashi. I know I certainly won't thank you."
He moved with lethal grace to a seated position on the forest floor, his elbows resting on his knees. His expression did not change.
"What was it?" she demanded. "This body? This face? Artifice. You know that."
His mouth curled now—at last, a reaction. "And for you?" Kakashi drawled. "Was it my cock?"
She understood the point being made. It didn't matter.
"This won't happen again," she promised.
His eyes followed her as she left, and she pretended—to herself—that she didn't notice.
"You look like you didn't sleep at all," Naruto observed.
Sakura glared at him. It didn't appear to have any affect.
"New katana?" Sai remarked quietly. She shifted her glare to him as she swung it over her shoulder. They exited the door of her apartment.
"Wait, Sakura," the black-haired boy murmured as Naruto marched cheerily ahead of them, "I think you should…hold off."
"Hold off on what," she snapped.
"Your plans with Sasuke," Sai said bluntly. He squinted ahead, his gaze landing squarely on Naruto. "Perhaps…he's right. Perhaps there is a chance."
She paused, felt several expressions flash across her face. She settled on indifference. "There are no plans," Sakura said, "The new katana is just that—a new katana."
Sai's mouth twisted slightly. "I may not have been friends with you as long as Naruto," he said quietly, "but I think of all your acquaintances, I fare the best in identifying when you lie."
"What do you think I'm going to do, Sai?"
"Kill him," the other boy said without hesitation.
Sakura's eyebrows raised. She looked away from him for a second, to the rising run. "Hm," she intoned.
Sai watched her closely, seeming paler than usual.
"And if I tried," she said softly, "would you fight me?"
She watched his features spasm, something remarkably—on anyone else, she would have identified it as such—like pain flashing across them.
Sakura abruptly felt terrible.
"You shouldn't," she whispered back, gripping his shoulder until he looked up at her again. "If that time ever comes, don't do anything to endanger your safety here."
"But—"
"But, of course," Sakura said, smiling awkwardly, "this is all in the hypothetical. A silly conversation, really."
He fell silent.
Eventually, as he always did, Naruto whined for them to walk faster. After a moment of inaction, they picked up their pace. They reached the outskirts of Konoha just as the sun was fully risen. Two figures met them there: Yamato, who seemed to have become a new addition to their team, looking somber and square-jawed. And beside him, the copy-nin.
And when Sakura stood in front of them, she bowed her head and gave each a polite greeting, ice-cold.
Author's Note: Soooo I'm baaackkk. Sorry for the delay... But wow! Something happened! As always, please let me know your thoughts :D Your kudos and comments have sustained me through several years / tens of thousands of words to this point. I've never finished a multi-chap story before lol, but this might be the first one!
P.S. A moment of silence for Tortoise, who never manages to get any.
P.P.S. If you haven't watched Fleabag, WATCH IT. This advice is entirely unrelated to this story, but it is a great show :D
P.P.S. The title of this chapter is actually a reference to an Andrew Marvell poem (one of the most famous example of carpe diem poetry lol)...called "To His Coy Mistress"