It took Naruto twenty minutes to notice. His nose twitched like a squirrel's, before his eyes widened.
"Did Kakashi-sensei ditch us?"
Sai wasn't alone in turning to him with something like disgusted awe. Yamato in particular seemed to have a hard time finding words as they all flitted between the cedar trees. Sakura, sadly, was used to it by now.
"Dickless, he left us two minutes after we left Konoha."
"No way," Naruto scoffed. But he seemed then to reconsider his incredulity, past experience clearly passing through his mind. "Why?"
Now, that was a better question—one Sakura had been too stubborn to ask. She turned her attention to Yamato who, feeling her gaze, seemed to straighten.
"He's tracking ahead of us," the older man said simply. "He'll join us at night."
Sai and Sakura exchanged a glance. "Ahead?" Sai pressed.
Yamato stared at the black-haired boy in a decidedly blank manner, which Sakura belatedly interpreted as calculation. "To take measure of the situation," he said slowly. "If it proves too dangerous, he will send one of his summons with the instruction to turn back."
"That was not part of the deal," Naruto growled, blue eyes flashing. "Tsunade baa-chan said we could go after Sasuke—"
"Not necessarily that you would be the ones to confront him," Yamato cut him off, as steadfast as the wood that sprouted from his palms. "Sasuke was last seen with Orochimaru, a known threat to Konoha and someone—pointedly—who has expressed concerning interest in you in the past. Our hokage may be a gambling woman, certainly more so than I can comfortably condone, but she is not foolhardy."
Sai coughed politely beside her. Sakura ignored him. "And what about Kakashi? You herd the rest of us back, and he deals with Orochimaru and Sasuke by himself?"
"That's certainly the way senpai prefers to do things," Yamato considered. "It's proven effective in the past."
Sakura scowled, because he wasn't a god and too many people seemed to think he was.
"Why do you call him senpai?" Her words lashed out with ill-disguised annoyance. "He's younger than you, isn't he? And you aren't on his ANBU team anymore—"
"How would you know that?" His voice was sharper, now, just minutely.
Sakura regretted her words, thinking fast. "At Orochimaru's hideout…It looked like that the two of you hadn't seen each other in some time."
Yamato watched her silently for a few more, torturous seconds, before nodding. "It is true. I hadn't seen Kakashi-senpai for some years until then—" he paused, before continuing—"I suppose it's no secret that he is an ANBU captain. And I've already told you of my own involvement in Root and ANBU."
"Yes. And?" Naruto said sourly, his mind still clearly dwelling on the previous exchange.
"He, one could say," Yamato seemed to hesitate over wording, "facilitated my leaving of Root. Soon after doing so, he became my ANBU captain. He was even younger then, of course—most if not all his age were genin. Still, somehow, even then, he always seemed…untouchable. Light years beyond anyone I knew. He still seems that way to me, to this day."
Crescents formed on Sakura's palms where her fingernails pressed in.
"You're not wearing a dress," Naruto said abruptly. He looked at her with something like accusation, as though departure from normalcy was a crime.
"It seemed a little impractical for a long term mission," she managed distractedly. "We have no idea what climates we'll be travelling in, and besides—"
"Sai didn't bother changing," Naruto countered. "And he has his whole stomach out."
"It's my best feature," Sai explained without blinking.
Yamato made an odd sound beside them.
"Don't be stupid, Sai," Sakura muttered. "That's obviously your face."
Naruto grunted in reluctant agreement.
"Truly," the ex-Root member sighed, shaking his face toward the sky.
When night came, it arrived with a welcome breeze that chilled the air. Sakura lifted the short, uneven hair from the back of her neck, luxuriating in the brief freedom this gave her damp skin. In the distance, she could hear Naruto's crowing voice intermixed with Sai's softer tones as they splashed themselves in the nearby stream, hidden by the trees. Her body thrummed with the prospect of her turn.
"You manage well."
Sakura turned quickly. She hadn't heard anyone approach.
"Your anger earlier was telling," Yamato revealed, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I realize that things must not have been…easy. That Kakashi-senpai must not have made them easy."
She blinked at him, at first disarmed.
"On the contrary," Sakura said, "learning from Kakashi-sensei has been exceptionally easy–" she kept her voice light—"he hardly ever teaches me anything."
The older man's face didn't change. He shifted his weight slightly, so that he leaned against the tree behind him.
"You've known him many years now, haven't you, Yamato-san," Sakura demanded as it suddenly occurred to her. "He was even your captain, one time."
She gave him time to respond. But he remained silent.
"I have ideas, of course," she continued, voice hardening. "That he's prejudiced against civilians. Or maybe—maybe it's women he has a problem with: silly girls, he's been thinking, better for them to stay at home and be daughters and wives than to play at shinobi—"
She had said it, not because she believed it, but because she had hoped it would provoke a response from him. It did.
"No," he said shortly. "He wouldn't have welcomed the sandaime's very own grandson any more than he welcomed you."
"Why?"
He watched her, face unusually hard, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, Yamato looked past her into the trees. "Could you even understand?" he questioned, wryly. "When you have a mother and a father and a home and everything that is alien to him—alien to most of the shinobi whose names go down in history. When only broken men and women seem to survive in this line of work."
Her mouth flattened. "So I was too coddled for him to teach? Too sheltered for him to even attempt it?"
Yamato's expression was unreadable. "Not at all. Anyone can be broken."
"Anyone can be broken," the man repeated. He turned to look at Sakura. "So? Should he have encouraged it? Enabled it?"
"And well-adjusted people have no value in violent conflict," Sakura voiced incredulously. Never mind that as each day passed she increasingly seemed to be neither.
"From personal experience, it is a burden that they are ill-equipped to handle," Yamato said softly. A strange smile appeared on his face. "I suppose I've exposed myself too, now. Maybe I would have shunned you as well, but more gently. Maybe, for that reason, I would have succeeded."
He paused, then blinked rapidly, frowning. "Or perhaps, all this is what I think and not Kakashi-senpai at all. It's hard to know."
Sakura's frustrated exhale was drowned out by the noise of Naruto and Sai's return. The former stomped loudly, shaking the water out of his hair as he did so that it sprayed in every direction. She twisted slightly to avoid it.
"The stream is all yours, Sakura-san," Sai said, gazing first at Sakura then at Yamato. Afraid of what he might see, she turned and marched swiftly to the stream.
She didn't bother folding her standard issue black shirt, pants, or flak jacket, instead tossing them all onto the grass as she waded into the water. The cool temperature of the water was a pleasant surprise, retaining less heat from the day than she might have imagined. A full moon shone that night and rendered her reflection with unusual clarity.
She twisted to wash her back. The long stretch of irezumi on her back was reflected onto the water, the colors astonishingly vivid.
Her gaze flicked away—only to return, her lips twisting.
It was admittedly odd. Sometimes, she went for long stretches of time forgetting that the tattoo existed entirely. Fitting, she supposed, because the decision had been a whim; when one treated one's body conscientiously as means of survival, what went on it often hardly seemed to matter.
And most days, that was precisely how Sakura felt. But then, other times, she could hardly stop thinking about the irezumi—trying to touch it, steal glances at it. This mark after all, unlike most every other on her body, was something she had ultimately chosen. And somehow, sometimes, that made all the difference.
(Sakura's alone. Not Saori Mori's. Not the Crow's or the ANBU's.)
She didn't know how long she stared at it, lost in thought. But she was abruptly forced back into reality as a familiar song of killing intent encroached their area of the forest. Sakura straightened and walked toward her clothes, roughly tugging them on after making the signs for a gust of wind to dry her body. Her hair, still wet, dampened her shirt—but she bore it stoically as she made her way back to their camp.
She found Sai and Yamato already sprawled on their pallets, the latter already snoring lightly. Sakura's eyes flicked through the trees, locating Kakashi quickly.
Sai caught the motion. "He's on first-watch."
"Naruto?"
The black-haired boy silently pointed to a hill just at the edge of their line of sight. Alone, crouched on the branches of the very top of a tree, was a figure distinctly clad in black and orange.
"You should talk to him."
"Why me?" she asked. Why did tonight's theme seem to be having all the frustrating, uncomfortable conversations she wanted right now to avoid?
"Because only you could understand," Sai answered. "Sasuke was your teammate as well."
"As you know," she responded, "having known Sasuke—to whatever extent I did—I have a decidedly different opinion from Naruto's."
Sai looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Is it really so hard for you to understand, Sakura?" Sai wondered calmly. "Naruto's simultaneous frustration with the traitor and his…captivation?"
Sakura scoffed. "Yes, I'm not interested in making friends with anyone who's run me through—"
"You show it too," Sai said, softly.
"Excuse me?" The words emerged harsh and cold.
"I am admittedly a novice in this area, but—it seems to me often that you can't help yourself," the boy explained without inflection. "Most of the time you glare and, in those moments, I think it's because you hate him. But other times, it's different. The quality of your gaze, the way you stare at Kakashi-san…"
Sakura's stomach dropped to the floor.
He broke off, face twisting. "I'm…not sure quite how to categorize it. It requires more studying. But, indeed, based on these factors alone, an observer might conclude that you are just obsessed with the taichou as dickless is with the traitor—"
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Sakura spat out.
Sai inclined his head. "That may be true. Still. Talk to Naruto."
The manipulative little twit. At this point, Sakura was grateful for the chance to escape—exactly as he had no doubt intended. She let him have this victory and launched herself through the trees until she reached Naruto.
It was a tall tree—well-chosen, as it provided an excellent vantage point from which to observe the expanse of forest below. Not that Naruto seemed to notice. The blonde was slow to respond, even by his usual standards. When he did look up, it was with a grim expression. For a long time, they stared at each other in silence.
Realizing that this wouldn't be quick, Sakura heaved a sigh and settled onto the branch. A knot in the tree dug into her back, but she managed, for the most part, to ignore it. She stared steadfastly at Naruto instead.
Woodland creatures rustled through the wilderness, a cacophony of noise, but Naruto was silent. As another second passed, the unease within Sakura grew.
"Hey," she said loudly.
His distant gaze finally gained from focus. He looked paler than usual—but maybe that was the moonlight.
"You know," he said slowly, the words stilted, almost dazed, "sometimes…I think I may have forgotten what it was like to have him on our team."
Sakura had been about to shift her weight, that knot a little too annoying after all. She paused now.
"Maybe I am chasing after something that doesn't exist," he whispered, "maybe I've just imagined it, and everyone's right, and I'm just…"
Sakura knew, in an abstract sort of way, she that should have been pleased by this. Instead, she felt discomfited.
"Well, you know what I think," she settled with.
But he waited—his head tilted to the side, listening, but not quite looking at her. As though she needed to say more. And she could have cursed out loud. "I don't know what to say, Naruto," she said, relenting despite herself, despite reason. "You know what I think, but we both know that you knew him best."
"Did I?" he asked with unusual cynicism. It tested her forced calm.
"You did," she snapped now. "And it was obviously reciprocated. Back then."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know what's real anymore. But…it used to feel like he was the only in the whole world who could understand," he said, voice rough.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but ultimately refrained. A myriad of expressions were passing over Naruto's vibrant features, and it was impossible to keep track of them.
"I don't know what's right, Sakura. But I feel—I feel like I owe it to that Sasuke to chase him to the ends of the earth, even if only the ghost of him exists. That's how I feel, and I can't change it."
Sakura met his burning gaze. "Naruto, did you—"
He read her face immediately, reddening slightly. "It's not like that. But it doesn't feel…any…less strong, okay? The way you feel about your hand or…or your foot…Sasuke was that. He was like this mirror that showed me everything in myself. Every failing, every flaw—but also that I was…that maybe I could be more than what everyone else saw..."
He broke off, but she was beginning to understand. And realization gave birth to a terrible, sinking sensation in her chest.
"Get some sleep," she muttered.
He shrugged. "Probably not going to happen tonight."
She could understand that. Some nights, Sakura was so wired she couldn't even keep her hands still, her fingers vibrating with frenetic energy like some part of her still thought she was in active combat. She wondered how long it would take for her limbs to rid themselves of those instincts. Probably never.
When we're dead, the Voice whispered.
Sakura stood up.
"Try," she insisted. She stepped off the tree.
The week passed in a blur of mind-numbing monotony. As the following week began, she realized that the second Sasuke retrieval mission had now become her longest mission with Team Seven. The realization arose, perhaps not unexpectedly, as a result of growing frustration with her situation. Long-conditioned by the Crow and ANBU missions to live by a certain standard of vigilance, it was hard to adjust her trigger-happy reflexes to the ordinary, the mundaneness, now surrounding her—certainly for such an extended amount of time. They passed through village after village, and maybe—possibly—Sakura was beginning to understand a little of why Kakashi grated so ruthlessly against the cadence of the quotidian.
Or—not. Definitely not. She took that thought back.
"Oi, oi," Naruto panted, eyes wide, "I think it's ready!"
Sai smacked his approaching hand away.
He and Yamato had been delegated the task of grilling the meat at the yakiniku restaurant they had stumbled upon—for good reason, because Naruto's impatience when hungry always led to undercooked or bland food and Sakura—
Well, apparently no one liked Sakura's cooking. She sipped her water indifferently.
Her gaze passed over the occupants of the small restaurant, mostly obligatorily. She didn't actually expect to find anything interesting.
"I'm heading to the restroom," Sai said with ostensible reluctance, darting a skeptical glance Naruto's way. "Don't fuck it up, dickless." Or else, he left unsaid.
Naruto eagerly grabbed the prongs, his stomach grumbling loudly as Sai departed. Sakura couldn't quite stop herself from salivating too.
"It's night time, and we're finally at a restaurant," Naruto pondered. "Why didn't Kakashi join us? It's meat."
Yamato looked abruptly grave, an oddly humorous contrast to his current task. His next words, however, removed the bizarre humor from the situation entirely. "He believes we're getting closer."
"To Sasuke?" she found herself asking. As though it needed clarifying.
"Are we actually close? It feels like we've been moving randomly," Naruto said skeptically. "North and north and north, then south, then west, now back east…"
"From what I understand from senpai," Yamato said carefully, "Sasuke is no longer with Orochimaru. It seems that your former teammate is currently tracking someone else—hence our somewhat circuitous route."
"No longer with Orochimaru," Sakura repeated blankly.
The meat was all but forgotten. Naruto's face grew increasingly red. "He's been—He left? Why?"
Yamato looked a bit shifty-eyed now. "It's hard to say—"
He was cut off by the muffled hiss of a kunai nailing neatly into the chunk of meat currently burning on their grill. Naruto grunted, and Sakura's panicked eyes found a kunai embedded in his shoulder.
Her nostrils flared, the Voice awakening with growing scent of blood. What the fuck?
As cries of pain and terror sounded all throughout the restaurant, Yamato moved without hesitation, grabbing the platter and upending the meat to shield them from the next volley. Sakura launched herself into a crouch on the table, fitting her body behind the large silver disk; she felt Naruto settle beside her.
An attack on the singular yakiniku restaurant they had chosen? How shitty exactly was their luck…
"The meat," Naruto mourned.
"Quiet," Yamato hushed, looking strained. He peered over the platter to examine the situation. His jaw tightened.
"What is it?" Sakura voiced, urgent. She shifted slightly as well and understood immediately. Her hands fisted at her sides.
"These shinobi have been garnering bit of a name for themselves. They use genjutsu to simulate invisibility," Yamato said grimly.
…the 'invisible' shinobi. Sakura would have given anything to have encountered in any other situation—even alone would have been preferable.
"If we don't manage this situation carefully," Yamato instructed, "this will become a slaughterhouse. Now, listen carefully, we know that they take shinobi and civilian bodies for experim—"
"Sai," Naruto blurted, just as Sakura jerked in the direction of the bathroom. They all strained with their senses to find his chakra; in an emergency situation like this, he should have flared his chakra a few times intermittently, just enough for those attuned to it to find him.
She didn't detect anything.
"Likely, he has been captured," was the blunt conclusion relayed to them. Naruto made a low, wounded noise. Sakura snarled and shifted for the katana on her back, uncaring of Shisui's commands now—laying low was simply no longer an option.
But…kidnapped? Her mind worked quickly. The necessary course of action here was not to fight. The opposite, in fact. She dropped her katana to the ground.
Yamato blinked slowly at her. "Sakura, what are you—"
"I'll find him," Sakura hissed to Naruto, "stay safe."
She launched herself into the chaos.
Just as Yamato had predicted, their objective had clearly been to grab and dart with as many still-living bodies as they could. This, she supposed, had saved her from considerable amounts of injury in the willful act of being kidnapped. She had only taken one kunai to her leg before she was deemed easy-pickings and struck over the head.
She winced now as they dragged her down a seeming labyrinth of prison cells, at least fifty miles from where the modest yakiniku restaurant had been, still feeling the force of the blow. If she hadn't regained consciousness quickly enough, she wouldn't have had time to heal herself from the resulting concussion before they had put the chakra-dampening chains across her wrists. That had been luck and nothing else.
Getting captured—purposefully—was a just as inadvisable experience the second time as the first, she reflected with some private amusement.
"This one is a shinobi too," the man herding her growled.
She was unceremoniously tossed into a dank cell, lit only by a torch hanging almost out of sight in the corridor. She skidded on her knees, stopping her momentum with increased friction as she applied more pressure to her toes. Small divots appeared in the rocky ground beneath her until she stopped.
It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the new lighting. When they did, she found Sai almost immediately. Eyes closed, leaning against the back wall of the cell, a darkening bruise livid against the skin of his cheek, he sat there seemingly indifferent to the bodies around him in the same cell. She made a beeline for her teammate, ignoring the people she had to push out of the way. Some pushed back, threatening violence; she ignored them, dogged in her pursuit.
"Sai," she whispered, voice soft. She reached for his cheek.
His eyes snapped open, then widened. "Sakura."
He pushed away from the wall, grimacing. She frowned. "Where are you hurt?"
"Broken ribs, shoulder out of alignment," he recounted calmly. "Blow to the head as well—I think I'm concussed." His eyelids slid downward.
"No sleeping," she commanded. She slid in the small space between him and the corner, glaring out at the gazes that measured them, some frightened, some desperate, others clinical. She could imagine it wouldn't take long for them to turn on each other—the weakest would fall prey to the stronger, be the first served up when the guards came knocking.
Right now, Sai looked vulnerable, and the hawks circled.
"We…have no chakra," the boy beside her said blearily. He straightened. "How did you get captured? You were with Yamato-san and dickless—"
"I wasn't letting you get captured alone," Sakura muttered, shoulders tensing as her gaze darted over the cell. "Sounded like too much fun."
Sai made a small noise. She turned to look at him. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so young.
"You don't have any chakra," he repeated, gaze sharpening. "There's no straightforward exit strategy here. You've only invited unnecessary torture—possible death—onto yourself. For what reason?"
Her chest ached and her head hurt. "You know why," she said simply, in a tone that brooked no argument.
His glance cut downwards. "It isn't worth—"
"Shut up," she growled.
A man, by a considerable margin the largest of the bunch, had emerged from the crowd. His gaze flicked over Sai, cataloguing his injuries. Sakura peered up at him indifferently. The man's eyes, dark and beetle-like, drifted to her.
"Don't do yourself a disservice here, girl," he said told her, voice smooth. "You're only going to become collateral damage if you try getting in the way—" his mouth curved into a cold smile—"Without him you'll last…well, longer. Maybe."
"Sakura," Sai said softly from behind her.
"Shut up," Sakura said again. She stood and cracked her neck, one quick snap to the left and then to the right. She eyed the men and women flanking her challenger with a raised brow.
The Voice cackled inside her. No jutsu just fist and bone and blood and desperation…
Against her will, it goaded her, if just slightly.
"Hey Sai," she called out, "what would Naruto say? Something loud, stupid, and straight out of a mafia movie, right…Let's see…"
She smirked at her teammate. "Want to rumble?"
She could hear Sai's choked, incredulous laugh as she feinted, twisting to avoid the man's heavy fist. Using the same momentum, she kicked off the back wall and drove her elbow back, right into his solar plexus. She felt him buckle and then stumble back.
Sakura waited, fists drawn up, impatient. "Come on, old man," she groaned, "I'm going to fall asleep over here."
He snarled and charged toward her. She latched a hand onto his collar and yanked his head straight into her knee.
This isn't even interesting, the Voice grumbled.
He went down like a sack of potatoes.
The other shinobi in the cell watched in silence. Sakura sighed and then pushed her short, uneven hair back, uncaring that she had probably laced blood into the strands.
"This is going to be a slug fest, isn't it," she remarked.
Three of them came for her next.
Even though it was gross, even though she was well-versed in medical ninjutsu, she couldn't stop herself from picking at her split knuckles.
"You shouldn't," Sai spoke aloud.
She hadn't noticed him waking up. It was hard to tell what time of the day it was, but she reckoned he had slept at least the past five hours (once she had determined that he had managed to escape a concussion). Thankfully, he had finally regained some color.
Sakura became abruptly aware of herself, crouched and vibrating with ill-managed energy. The prison cell was getting to her: the dark, the absence of her chakra, and the fearful watchfulness of every other cellmate in here towards her. Each time she accidentally glanced at one of them, they flinched.
"Are you scared?" she asked.
"No," Sai answered easily. "Just resigned."
"Resigned to what?"
He shifted his weight. "Even with your abilities—without chakra, you cannot protect me for long if those rogue-nin choose me as their next subject. And given that we have no idea how long we'll be here..."
"The situation isn't that dire, Sai. We'll be out of here soon."
"What do you mean?"
"Kakashi will be here soon."
Sai blinked at her. "He will?"
Sakura rolled her eyes. "Undoubtedly. He loves stealing the thunder when it comes to this sort of thing."
Sai's gaze suddenly seemed incredibly penetrating. She drew back a little, frowning.
"I really don't understand," the boy said lightly.
"Understand what?" she asked, picking at her split knuckles again.
"How your face can express so much resentment for him, when you still believe that he will…abandon the trail he's been pursuing for the past week, neglect the mission he has been assigned by the hokage, to pursue us—without any doubt."
Sakura felt adrift, not quite sure how to manage this accusation of inconsistency. "He told you himself, didn't he? His…philosophy that anyone who abandons their teammates is scum. Never mind that he's a terrible, catastrophe of a teacher—"
"Yes, I've heard it," Sai said unflinchingly. "He's an instructor; it is his duty to propagate such lessons. Often, lessons can be ideals, compromised in the most strenuous of circumstances. This is one such circumstance. But, still, you believe he will follow through…unflinchingly."
"So?" Sakura returned, feeling defensive. "It's just one not-shitty thing he manages to remain faithful to. Don't make a huge deal out of it."
"In the work we operate in," Sai considered aloud, "how can it be as insignificant as you suggest?"
"If Naruto were here, he would be telling you the same exact thing," said Sakura shortly.
"Naruto is still naïve to the worst parts of what it means to be a shinobi. You are not."
She opened her mouth to retort with, but she was cut off by shouts from further down the corridor. She jolted in place, recognizing what those sounds meant. He had, as ever, impeccable timing, Sakura reflected sourly.
The other occupants of the cell began to shift restlessly, eyes flaring with alarm.
"Don't move," she barked, face still dark from her previous exchange with Sai. They froze immediately, crowding the back wall away from her. Sakura stared at them for a moment, unnerved by their immediate obedience, until she shook herself out of her momentary stupor.
She stretched out a hand. With difficulty, Sai pulled himself up. Sakura slung his arm over her shoulders and supported most of his weight.
"H-here, just here," they heard a voice cry out, accompanied by stumbling footsteps, "please, I'm begging you, don't hurt me—look, look they're right here, we haven't even touched them. Unharmed!"
A short, square jawed man appeared in front of their cell, panic wracking his frame so violently that only survival instinct seemed to keep him upright. A moment later, the copy-nin himself appeared in front of the cell, surveying the contents of their cell almost leisurely.
His entire demeanor of laziness was betrayed, however, by the savage gleam in his eyes. And then there was the blood that coated his uniform in broad, crude strokes, vermillion and telling. He had killed his way here—there had been no subterfuge. The Voice hissed within her, both livid at its perceived competition and reluctantly admiring. And Sakura…Well, Sakura stood there, face blank, trying to ignore Sai's words about why, when she had doubted almost everything else, she had not for one instant doubted this.
Kakashi's gaze passed over them. He paused at the livid bruise on Sai's face.
"I did not authorize that—!" the man tried to plead. Kakashi's blade slid clean through his throat; he didn't even bother looking as he killed him.
As one hand slid the blade back into its sheath, his other tensed to produce a familiar spark of lightning. When the high pitched chirping abated, Sakura looked over and found the bars of the cell all but melted. Kakashi stepped forward, one long leg followed by another, until he stood fully inside the cell with all of them. No one moved, but the temperature seemed to drop. Sakura's jaw clenched to the point of pain.
He grabbed Sai's chains first, fist tightening with chakra until they crumbled into small particles. Without pause, he moved to Sakura next. His fingertips just grazed the insides of her wrist, and her face went pale, her gaze flying up to the ceiling to hide what it might reveal.
"Injuries," Kakashi demanded, voice low and dangerous.
"Broken rib, shoulder out of alignment," Sai listed hastily, before adding tentatively, "possibly a fractured cheekbone."
She felt the weight of that gaze on her next. Her nostrils flared. "Nothing. Just a few scrapes and bruises. I can heal him now."
She didn't wait for permission. Hands flaring with green, she found Sai's injuries with business-like directness. The boy's frame quickly relaxed under her hands.
"Are Naruto and Yamato-san far?" Sai asked, sounding a bit drugged.
Kakashi's attention flicked over the other inmates of their cell. Like with Sakura—though in his case from fear of reputation alone—they shrunk back.
His mismatched gaze landed on Sai again, narrowing. "Close," he said shortly.
Sai nodded, hissing lightly as Sakura finished the last of her work. She stepped back after, discreetly trying to wipe the blood from her hair. Would he think it was her own? If Kakashi noticed it, he didn't show. He cast one final glance over the cell and left. Belatedly, Sai and Sakura followed.
Like the copy-nin had said, they did not have to travel far. The encampment was easy to spot from even a distance, the smoke from a live fire curling its way into the twilight sky. As they approached, Naruto burst through the trees. His strained face found Kakashi first, then moved left, settling on her and Sai. He careened into them a second later, his arms swinging out to engulf them both. Sakura returned the embrace with a small smile. She located Yamato over his shoulder. He watched them carefully.
"You must be hungry," Yamato said, voice quiet. "Come."
Naruto and Sai went immediately, arms still slung around each other. Sakura would have joined, but she felt Kakashi's eyes intent on her.
"I'll join you in a second," she said almost soundlessly. Sai's eyes narrowed as he looked back. Naruto waved an errant hand and continued to pull him away.
Yamato stayed, eyes wide. "Senpai," he started.
"Leave."
Sakura's lips turn downward. Yamato stared at them both, dark eyes unreadable. He looked at Sakura last, his expression changing slightly, before he obeyed.
Sakura watched his back lingeringly, wanting desperately to escape. Here she was, alone with the person she had sought most desperately to avoid. The last time the two of them had been alone— No. No. She couldn't think about it.
Blood rose in her cheeks. It was unfair. She resented the fact that she alone had to bear the burden of the truth; Kakashi remained in blissful, fucking ignorance. Anger was better, she realized. Anger, now, could save her.
"Was there something you wanted?" she said stiffly.
She peered up and found him watching her intently, sharingan spinning. "No injuries," the copy-nin said slowly.
She understood the point being made; Sai had had a list. Sakura controlled her expression with immense effort. "I'm not sure what you're trying to suggest." Sakura controlled her expression with immense effort. "I'm not sure what you're trying to suggest."
His eyebrow arched just slightly, deadly. "You and I had a conversation," he said lowly.
She just barely flinched. "Yes," she said, voice slightly rough. "About what happens to shinobi like me. I recall."
"Are you deadweight, Haruno?" her captain asked her, voice feral.
She hadn't abandoned Sai. She had protected him, had tried to. Why did he misconstrue her every time? Sakura wished she could have raised the fisted hands at her sides and used them, to show him the weight she carried, could carry, had carried. She wanted him to—
To know the truth.
This time, she did flinch—fully. She scrambled to cover her slip, to distract herself from her nonsensical thoughts.
"I'm not," she insisted, voice weaker than she would have liked it. She repeated it for emphasis. "I'm not."
The condescension was proclaimed loud and clear in his gaze as he looked past her. It was insufferable, and she couldn't—
"Why do you hate me?" she demanded.
Fuck. She had lost it, truly. She knew her face was red. Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears, and she was truly caught in that infernal state now, of want: wanting him to know her rage, her hatred, her lacerations—all of it.
With insufferable languidness, his head turned to look back at her.
Sakura exhaled sharply. It was too late to stop. "Why do you want me to fail?"
His eyes were unbearable. She couldn't stand them. In an instant, however, it all became worse. He removed the distance between them, until he was right in front of her. And then, his face was contorted as he looked down at her, terrifying in its savagery.
"You are weak and incompetent," Kakashi said coldly, "and the day you get someone killed, you will understand what hatred means, what failure means. "
Sakura stared up at him, her face pale, her chest aching.
His face flashed with disgust, and she could have happily sunk a kunai in his chest. You don't see me, she wanted to snarl back at him. It was on the tip of her tongue, she could taste it, bloody and metallic: look at me, look at me, look at me—
(His hands knotted in her hair, his breath ragged against her throat, the iron and muscle of his body against hers—the heat of him, the callousness and cruelty and the unexpected softness, none of it hers)
Sakura's vision was overwhelmed by red. She didn't see him leave. But when she looked again, he was gone.
She laughed, at first disbelieving, then with cruelty.
"You stupid, stupid fool," she whispered to herself, "This is what happens. This is what happens."
Author's Note: Surprise! Kakashi is an asshole. Oh, wait, we already knew that. But, you know, a lot of things have fucked him up-so maybe we can understand why? Hmm up to you to decide. Still an asshole, either way.
Also, yeah, wanted to jump immediately into 'the action,' but this chapter needed to happen. It's definitely more of a filler, but I hope you enjoyed it anywaayyyy.
BUT GUYS IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER. SOIGUSOIGJDOIGH. Leave me comments / kudos so I get around to writing it fast :D
(Am I a terrible manipulator? Yes. But we also already knew that.)
Until next time! - madstoryteller999