"...Itachi...?"

A low chuckle, "The very same."

"How...How did you know it was me?" Sakura inquired heavily.

"Ah, well—you could imagine my surprise when I receive a call from an unknown number and it being my little brother. You could also imagine my surprise when he was in fact calling from a hospital and asking me to book a flight for him back here."

Sakura's breath hitched, "He called you? What did he say?"

Itachi hummed, "For starters, I could barely understand him. He sounded like he was lisping—which would have been hilarious had he not been boiling over with rage and ranting to me about how he's going to get Naruto locked up."

"So he told you what happened?"

"More or less."

Sakura grunted, "Don't pull my leg. What exactly did he tell you?"

"You sound tired, Sakura," Itachi rumbled drably. "Did you not get enough sleep last night?"

"Itachi."

Itachi sighed, "Fine- but only because you asked so nicely. This is what Sasuke told me: he said that he flew down here to spend time with you since he hadn't seen you in awhile—a year, right?"

Sakura kept her lips pressed together; waiting.

Another sigh, "Right- so, he tells me that he flew to see you. He took a cab to your place, he got there at midnight. He said that when he knocked, it was Naruto who answered—that he was giving Sasuke ugly looks the whole time. Naruto shoved him, Sasuke said he insisted on talking to you. He said that you two were in the room talking when Naruto barged in and threw him against the wall—then proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of him. I mean, you were there, Sakura- I'm not sure why what he has to say mat-"

"He's lying," Sakura quipped sharply, cheeks burning.

"Lying?" Itachi echoed. "I doubt it, Sakura—he was pretty livid."

"He's livid because he got caught," Sakura bit through gritted teeth. "Your little brother is a lying, cheating son of a bitch. Yes, he showed up at the apartment—but the moment he stepped in the place he was grilling me about what I was wearing? Naruto got upset and told him to leave. I stopped them and said I'd talk to Sasuke. Sasuke wanted to talk in my room—so, we go in there and he kept trying to get me to get close to him, and..." She trailed off, her breath hitching at the disgusting feeling she had felt last night; of being pushed down against the bed and told she'll love it. She shook her head and sucked in a breath; eyes closed and brow crumpling.

"Sakura..." Itachi titled carefully. "And what?"

She shook her head, "And...he...He assaulted...me..."

There was a long pause, followed with Itachi's sharp tone, "Assaulted you?"

"Yes. He...I took his hand and he pulled me in and started kissing me. I pushed him away because he was being too forceful. He's touching me and I asked him not to touch me. He tied my wrists together...I was sobbing the whole time. I tried to get up, he shoved me down. He was forcing himself on me, and...He assaulted me and I screamed. That's when Naruto and Ino came running in. They both saw it. Naruto snapped and...yeah."

"Fuck," Itachi suspired. "I'm...I'm sorry, Sakura. Honestly, I am so sorry. That's not what you needed...that's...Fuck." He sighed again, "What a fucking idiot he is. What a fucking idiot he is."

"You...believe me?"

"Of course, I do," Itachi replied aggressively. "Why would you lie about something like that, Sakura—you, of all people. It adds up, too, considering how fucked up Sasuke is. I mean, Naruto is impulsive—but not without reason. I had been wondering what could have happened for someone to just run in and fuck him up out of nowhere. I just...It's unforgiveable. And he has the fucking audacity to say that he's going to get Naruto locked up?" Itachi's voice raised, the anger evident with each word he spoke. "I mean, really? Did he think that I was just going to agree—and not find out the fucking truth? That he assaulted you? From the bottom of my heart, Sakura- I am so sorry. You don't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you. Are you going to press charges?"

Sakura started, "I...I mean, I haven't really gotten that far."

"You fucking should," Itachi pressed fiercely. "There's no way he can get away with that. Especially to you? When you were nothing but good to him-"

"Cut the shit, Itachi," Sakura cut in dryly. "I went through Sasuke's phone. I've seen everything. Everything. That includes your text to him about sewing me up."

Itachi scoffed, "I was doing that for you, Sakura. I had been telling him for months now to fly down to see you. I felt bad that he was just neglecting you. I didn't know he was going to fucking assault you—had I known, I would have fucked him up myself; that's a fucking promise. We were raised better than that."

"Mmhm," Sakura hummed bitterly, tears springing in the corners of her eyes. "Did you tell him that knowing that he was in a 2 year relationship with some woman named Karin? Did you know that they live in a condo together? That he pays for her modeling career? He's been with her for two fucking years—before I was kidnapped; did you know that?"

"Karin..." he breathed. "Yes, I knew about Karin—but only recently. I found out about her a month or so back. Sasuke did an incredible job of keeping her hidden from me—I saw him at work and that was it. The condo he has with her is about forty-five minutes away from the firm. He purposely bought a place out of the way so that I'd never catch her—not nearby, at least. When I found out about her, I promptly told Sasuke he needs to make a choice- and the right one, being you...I in no way condone what he has done, Sakura. My plan was to tell you about her after his trip to see you- if he didn't make the choice to stick with you."

"Bullshit," Sakura hissed, fist clenched. "You knew he was using me as a means to get clients through my father. You fucking knew that I was nothing more than a business deal to Sasuke. You knew, and you didn't tell me."

"Yeah, and at the time I was also under the impression that there were no issues between you and Sasuke. I had assumed that your dad sending clients to us was a bonus—nothing more, nothing less. As a matter of fact, I equally felt like the loss of Kizashi's clients to us was neither here nor there. I only cared about how he was treating you, and-"

"Did you know she's pregnant?"

Itachi grunted, "Karin? Karin's pregnant?"

"According to her. I read all the nasty texts she sent him when he was flying over here. On top of her knowing what happened to me, she also knew that I can't have children. But she can, apparently—and followed up with a bunch of photos of her around their fancy condo posing with a positive pregnancy test. As a matter of fact, she sent him the text maybe...ten minutes before he arrived at my doorstep. He told her he'd call her. So, he still showed up- and did what he did—having the information that Karin may or may not be pregnant."

"She has to be lying," Itachi pressed. "She is bat shit crazy. I can guarantee she bought that pregnancy test off of someone and-"

"Doesn't matter," Sakura bit. "What matters is he was wholly intending on having sex with me—without my consent, which is rape—while she boasted about her bun in the oven. I have been nothing but faithful to him, and the whole time he's playing house with some skinny red head. He played me like a fucking fool—and you knew the entire time."

"No," Itachi barked abruptly, "I promise you, I didn't. I only knew about her like I said—or month or so ago. I gave him the opportunity to fix it himself—clearly, that was a mistake."

"Clearly," Sakura mimicked bitterly.

"Sakura- I am on your side. I love Sasuke—but I will not tolerate this shit. If he thinks he's going to get Naruto in trouble, he's dead wrong. You don't worry about anything happening to Naruto- I'll handle that here on my end. As far as everything else goes...Really, Sakura—I am sorry. You are the last person in this world who deserves this."

She bit down on her lip at the sound of sincerity in his voice. She bit down on her lip to keep the sob that was building in her chest down. She bit down on her lip to offset the painful squeeze of her heart. The rage of Sasuke's betrayal.

Itachi continued, tone softer, "Between you and me, Sakura...Sasuke has changed. For the worst. He's let money and greed blind his vision. He rubs shoulders with only the wealthiest in Japan and looks down on anyone else. He's twisted cases to win, he thinks he's better than everyone else—he's crooked. Now, I doubt you'll run off and tell him—but I've got my own firm in the works, away from Sasuke. Starting next month, I'll be competition to him. I'm breaking away because he's become who he is now. I don't know what happened along the way, Sakura—what made his feelings change or made him treat you the way he has, but I'm sorry. I can't fix what's happened to you- I can't even change him. But you can press charges and make sure he pays for what he's done. Take his ass to court and when it's all said and done—move on, Sakura. Please, just move on. You're too good for him. I've always believed that he never deserved you. Take this time to not worry if he's going to come see you or not. Go and live and enjoy your life. Heal and find someone who you'll see every day until you're sick of them."

Sakura sniffed, feeling a stray tear trail down the curve of her cheek, "You make it sound so easy."

They were a flurry of hands and mouths.

Of heated huffs of breath along jaws; strong, drumming heartbeats that matched in rhythm.

Big hands curled around the dip of her waist; slamming her against the wall and dropping his lips to mold against hers with fever. She kissed him back excitedly, desperate hums whipping themselves from her throat and into the canals of his ears; sending chills down the length of his spine and blood pulsing to his member. Fingers trailed themselves over the skin of his bare torso; gripping the skin of his sides and pulling so hard it stung—fueling him. He placed his hand around her slender throat; holding it carefully while even lips kissed themselves down the swell of her pert breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, growling when she moaned loudly; hands now fisting themselves in his hair and tugging at the root. He pulled at the swollen bud, flicking his tongue over the tip while his free hand hooked her leg around his waist; then reaching in between them to run a finger through her sex. The pad of his finger rolled over her clit and her hips bucked forward; a sharp cry echoing in the dark apartment. He switched breasts, repeating the action downstairs and feeling the heat of his skin jump several degrees at the feel of her body primed and ready for him.

"Now," she panted, chest heaving and hips rolling forward. "I can't wait any longer."

He didn't need any more prodding.

He removed his hand from the apex of her legs to unzip his pants; tugging his hardened member out and stroke it before he placed it at her opening. He glanced up from where their bodies were almost connected, eyes narrowed onto deep brown orbs and his own breath coming in quick pants. He moved in and kissed her; tongue slipping past her lips and to the cavern of her mouth. He arched, pressing his muscle into her some before he felt a small hand on his chest.

"Wait," she breathed, pulling her head back to look at him. "You know we can't tell him about this...us...right? Not yet, anyways..."

His brow twitched, "Yeah."

She grabbed his face, "I'm being serious. He gets weird when I talk about men I'm dating for some reason—the last thing I want is for him to resent you."

He shook his head, "I get it."

She frowned, "Don't you care?"

He gave a small smirk, "It's not that I don't care—it's that I am barely in you and my mind is consumed with finishing the job."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he gave her no opportunity. He gripped her tightly, rolling his hips forward hard and shoving his engorged cock into her—all the way to the hilt. She wailed loudly, writhing around him and he had no choice but to pump into her mercilessly. Her body accepted him perfectly; hugged him and sucked him in. She was screaming, clinging onto him for dear life; sobbing his name...

Telling him that she loved him...
Telling him that she needed him...

She loved him...
She needed him...

Still, he plundered her petite frame.
Still, he placed his thumb on her clit and began to rub; hissing when her pussy clenched around him tightly.
Still, he kissed her sloppily; sucked on her tongue, nipped at her lip, and swallowed her cries.

Still, he did these knowing he wasn't the one.

He's not the one.

Kakashi was only slightly leery when he went to unlock the doors of Dondon some of the lights were on. Granted, he was the person who closed shop last night—and he never forgot to turn off the lights. He stood in the lobby, cup holder of coffees in each hand, and peering down either hall only to see the left one slightly lit from an office a ways down. It was only when he was a quarter of the way closer to the lit office that he both recognized it as Sakura's office—as well as the melodic hum of her voice that grew louder with each step he took.

"-n't know what I'm going to do. I still have to talk to dad about it...If anyone is going to press charges, it'll be him. I wouldn't be surprised if he did everything in his power to strip Sasuke of his position."

Kakashi stopped abruptly, head cocking and brow twitching down.

Sakura's weak hum continued, "The last thing I want is drama. Not for me. Not for dad. Not for Naruto or Ino. Maybe I should just-" She stopped, and Kakashi thought he'd take the chance to just quickly walk by to the break room until she spoke again. "That's not what I want. I just...I want this to be over. All of this. But I know the moment I talk to dad, he's going to raise hell. There's no way around it. I could tell him we simply broke up, but he's a smart man. He'll know something is up. He always does. Not to mention, I wouldn't put it past Naruto to talk to him about it—he's fuming. He's been pacing around the apartment all morning, ranting about what he was going to do to Sasuke if he sees him again...I understand that, but you've got to see where I'm coming from. They are already under enough stress as it is...with everything else...I just can't fathom taking both of them to court to testify against Sasuke—to go through all those motions and-"

Kakashi stood in the hallway, teetering back and forth with uncertainty. On one hand, this was absolutely none of his business and he should just go back to the lobby until he was sure she was off the phone. On the other, he couldn't help but catch the shuddering of her voice; the hitch in her breath and the tired timbre of her tone. It wasn't tired in the sense of not getting enough sleep- it was entirely different. She sounded drained and dull; close to tapping out, if he weren't mistaken.

And while he should have walked away—he couldn't. Kakashi wasn't entirely sure why, but he wanted to change her tone. Not just for the sake of the sales meeting today, but primarily for Sakura.

He'd never heard her sound like this before.
She sounded broken—and ate away at him.

Her depressed timbre broke through, "I need time to think about it- it's still too fresh. I need time to process everything and just...think about it. For now...I suppose...just keep him away from me and everyone else. I don't want him trying to reach out to me in any manner whatsoever...I don't want to see him...I don't want to hear about him...I just...He wants to go and play house with someone else—then fine...And if-"

He should have walked away.

Instead, without so much as a second thought, he was moving forward; stepping into the doorframe of her office and knocking his elbow on the metal.

Sakura was sat at her desk, right hand holding a phone to her ear while she held her forehead in her left hand. Her head whipped in Kakashi's direction, jade eyes glassy and the tip of her nose a soft pink. She sat up instantly, muttering quickly into the phone, "Ah- my boss is here. I've got to go...Yes, yes I will. I...goodbye." She ended the call and tossed the phone into her purse; keeping her back to Kakashi and talking as she wiped away at her face with the sleeve of her cardigan, "Oh, hello."

"Good morning, Sakura," Kakashi hummed, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to barge in."

Sakura shook her head curtly, turning to face him, "It's okay. Good morning."

Kakashi frowned.

She looked completely drained. Her hair was pulled back into a tight high bun, with wisps that broke free and sat around at the base of her neck and temples. Her usually fair skin looked pale, with dark bags under her eyes that reminded him of Gaara—a man Kizashi works with quite often in the architect community. Her typically petal-pink lips were dull and pressed into a hard line. Her eyes reflected a fresh onslaught of tears, rimmed in a faint red that made the emerald stand out shockingly. Flecked and trailed down her cheek was mascara that bled.

"Sakura," he titled evenly. "You've got something right here."

He reached out slowly, moving to drag his thumb across the mascara when not even some odd inches away from her face she flinched back. Kakashi let his hand fall, brow ticking slightly.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Sakura muttered, a small blush rising along her cheeks.

He shook his head, "It's okay...I was going to say—you've got make up on your cheek."

Sakura grimaced, turning to pull a small mirror out of her purse and quickly scrape at the dried mascara, "I am so sorry."

"I'm sorry," Kakashi rebutted. "I shouldn't have reached out like that—I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," she replied quickly.

Kakashi leveled his gaze with hers, "Are you okay?"

Sakura gave a pressed smile; he could see that she was clenching her teeth by the tick of her jaw. Her eyes were getting glossy again; hands clasped so tight her knuckles were whitening. She said nothing; she only took deep breaths and nodded; eyes downcast.

It didn't take a genius to understand she was trying to collect herself.

Was she still in the throes of an episode?

What was going on that had Naruto ranting?

Kakashi faintly remembers hearing the name Sasuke being brought up—her boyfriend, if he remembered correctly.

She was pressing charges against her boyfriend...?

He gazed at Sakura; someone so pretty and pink—depressed and blue.

Suddenly, Kakashi felt like a complete jackass. He only wanted to make her feel better—but that wasn't the case. He cleared his throat and plucked her coffee from the tray; holding it out to her as he remarked, "Guy should be here any minute. Once he shows up, we'll carpool in his car to Mashimo's home. Usually sales meetings don't take but an hour or so- but from what Kizashi has told me, Mashimo is a tough egg to crack, so it might take longer. That being said, Guy and I have cracked plenty of tough eggs in our time—so we aren't too torn up about it, really."

Sakura's hands came to cup around the coffee, "You didn't have to get me this..."

Kakashi shrugged fecklessly, "Well, I figured you could use some."

She took a small sip, closing her eyes and humming appreciatively, "This taste amazing."

He winked, "I hoped it would. It's just like the coffee you make here—except fancy."

Sakura glanced down, "Thank you."

He flashed a smile, "You're welcome. I won't need to tell you when Guy is here—he'll make himself known."

Sakura nibbled on her lower lip, "Hey...About last night-"

"Cherries," Kakashi cut smoothly.

Pink brows shot up, "Huh?"

Kakashi waved a finger at Sakura, "You smell like cherries today."

Sakura faltered, "O-oh...Um, yeah...It's this lotion I have...Is the smell too strong?"

He plucked a shoulder, "No, not at all. I happen to have a very keen sense of smell, that's all."

"Is that so?" Sakura hummed, arching a brow and brightening up slightly. "Perhaps I'll keep applying less and less to test that out."

Kakashi chuckled at the impish spark in her eye, "You are always trying to challenge me, Sakura. You do understand that I am not one to back down from a challenge? What, you don't believe me?"

She took a long sip of her coffee, "It's hard to believe someone who hasn't even risen up to the first challenge."

Kakashi cocked his head to the side, grinning, "The first challenge?"

Sakura leaned back in her chair, "See- you don't even remember. Some creep you are."

"Oh, no you don't," Kakashi sang, shaking his head. "I have been creeping plentily—the abundance of my creeping is overflowing, in fact."

"Could have fooled me," she muttered over the rim of her drink, expression lighting up just a bit more and making the grin on his face spread into a smile. "I have yet to witness you successfully creep."

Kakashi waggled a finger, "It's because I'm successfully creeping that you haven't seen me. What creep would I be if I was in your line of sight all the time? It defeats the purpose. No, a good creep keeps his creeping unseen."

"Tch," Sakura scoffed, "sounds like an excuse to me."

Kakashi huffed and gaped, excitement sparkling across his chest, "You are a stone-cold killer, Sakura. My creeping efforts have quadrupled since rising to your challenge. As a matter of fact, my creeping has been so successful that I might surprise you with the things I have come to know about you."

She blinked, "Mmhmm."

"You want proof—I get it," Kakashi raised his chin, "For starters, I've come to learn that you bake on a rotating schedule and exactly what you bake for that sweets shop. Tuesday and Thursdays you bake things like dango and mochi—often because in the mornings you'll be scrubbing off what you find in between your nails and the extras you bring us."

Sakura yawned loudly, "Anyone can gather that—I bring the extras to work. Next."

"Alright, how about this: You have a routine every day on your lunch break. It never fails. You go in, you grab your food and you set it down. You go to the sink and wash your hands—you dig around in the tea box and find that lavender and mint tea. You put milk, honey, and a dash of cinnamon. Like clockwork, you blow out the steam and take several sips before you go eat your food. The entire time, you're humming the same song—and I for the life of me can't seem to figure out what song it is. I just know when I hear you humming as I pass the breakroom, you're making that tea and you're about to eat." Kakashi tilted his head in her direction, "Furthermore, I wouldn't be the expert creep I am if I hadn't then added that tea to our supply order just for you."

"Just for me?" She echoed softly.

Kakashi nodded, "Yep. No one else drinks that tea besides you."

She shook her head, "You don't have to do that. That's a waste of company money."

Kakashi rolled his head around, "I don't think it's a waste. Anything to hear you humming happily around the office."

Sakura's brow ticked, "Why...I mean...Why would you say that?"

Kakashi sighed, locking his gaze with hers and humming with sincerity, "Because, believe it or not Sakura- I care about you. Not to mention, you've got the voice of a fucking angel—and compared to Kiba's howling across the office it's a much-needed change of pace."

She giggled, shaking her head, "Alright. Maybe you are creeping quite well."

"The creepiest of creeps," he winked, jerking his chin at her. "And now I've got to make sure I can sniff you out, apparently."

She shook her head, "Oh, no—I was just teasing, you don't have to do that."

"No, no ma'am," Kakashi chided cheekily. "You said you'll apply less and less—so that's what I'm expecting. Hell, dab it on your ankles or the soles of your feet—I can guarantee I'll be able to tell what perfume you're wearing."

"Do you do this to all of your employees?" She pondered artfully. "Do you sniff out Genma's boxer's or Guy's laundry detergent?"

Kakashi snorted, "Hardly. They're not nearly as pretty as you are."

Sakura blushed a brighter red, bringing color to her exhausted complexion and giving Kakashi the feeling of satisfaction. Really, he had no idea why he was doing what he was doing- he was flirting with her, and he knew it.

But he just couldn't seem to help himself.

Someone so pretty; so soft, so tender—giggling sweetly while she busted his balls—she should have a blush on her face all the time.

He knew he shouldn't tread these waters.
Hell, he shouldn't even be dipping a fucking toe—but here he was, shooting the smallest shot and acquiring all the brownie points he possibly could.

And if he thought about it, he's found himself quite mystified with the pinkette. She was a mysterious beauty, drawing him in where he shouldn't be. And for a second, he reprimanded himself; telling himself he needed to step back and keep himself in check.

But then she smiled.
Really smiled.

Plush lips parted and spread wide; cheeks lifting, the corners of her eyes pinching slightly, and pearly white teeth twinkling at him. The bridge of her nose was dusted with the prettiest blush he'd ever seen, followed by the glittering hum of her voice as she chuckled, "Sir, that's harassment."

She fucking smiled and he pushed restraint and reasoning to the side for now. She smiled; breathy, genuine, and darling- a complete 180 compared to her demeanor minutes ago.

She smiled—and gods damn it all if he didn't hear the symphony of heaven playing in the background.

He gazed at the man sitting across from him; hands cuffed, ankles cuffed, with several guards scattered across the small, dark room. Beady black eyes twinkled with an arrogance that made him want to punch the fucker square in the face—and if there weren't cameras in the room, he would have done it already.

Because fact of the matter is, this son of a bitch won't talk for shit.

He didn't talk a year ago—he sure as shit won't talk now.

But yet, here they are; face to face, staring each other down as he worked on formulating a plan in his head.

"Cut the shit, Seiichi. We've done this dance before—it's gotten old, hasn't it? How about this," he leaned forward, the metal of the cuffs scraping across the table, "you go ahead and remind me of how long I'll be in here and what awaits me- I'll tell you to fuck off. You'll get mad and call me a son of a bitch, and I'll say something witty like, 'eh, don't talk about your mother like that.' You'll stare daggers at me, I'll watch the sweat drip down your temple- time will be up and I can go back to my cell where I have several My Little Pony coloring books waiting for me. How's that sound?"

Seiichi scoffed, shaking his head, "Not this time, Kisame. We have reason to believe that the men you consort with are planning something—we've got word they've been digging around certain places for information about the victim."

Kisame let out a huge sigh; rolling his eyes and sinking back into his chair, "You just don't get it, do you? Tell me—let's say you've had a long day at work. You go home and the misses whipped up something real nice for you. It's hot, steaming- it smells amazing. At the same time, you've got two day old left overs in the fridge. Now—what would you choose? Would you choose stale, cold rice balls or a hot bowl of the freshest stir-fry?"

"I'm not playing your games," Seiichi grunted.

Kisame shrugged, "No game, detective. You'd choose the stir-fry without so much as a second guess. It's in our nature to want things new, fresh—juicy and untouched. Did you know that humans are apex predators? While lions are going for the weakest in the pack of gazelle—we were chasing and hunting fucking mammoths that surpassed us in size and strength. We are hunters—killers. So, why—and I'm saying this as nicely as I can- the fuck do you think anyone would go back for used, damaged goods?" He chuckled darkly, "A well-worn rubber tire, if you will."

Seiichi nodded, plucking a paper from his bag and slamming it down on the table in front of him, "That's nice and all—your speech. But I could care less. What I care about is getting the rest of your goonies behind bars. What I care about is the lives of those victims—and any others—protected. And while you've been good at running circles around us with your rambling—we're quite tired of it."

"I've heard it all before, detective," Kisame chortled, fanning his hands out. "You and your men have thrown all the threats at me. Really, I'm quite hurt you haven't thought up anything more creative than that. At any rate, I'll tell you what I've told you before—stop while you're ahead. No matter the amount of work you do, you'll never get your hands on any of them. Catching me was incredibly lucky—and your luck has run out. Are we done here? I've got to take a shit."

"Sure," Seiichi enunciated carefully, locking his own grey eyes with Kisame's mocking gaze. "You can leave. But first, tell me- do you recognize this man?"

Seiichi slid the paper towards Kisame; flipping it over and tapping on the printed photo. Kisame shook his head, dropping his gaze to look at the paper before he flicked his eye back up quickly.

"Who the fuck is this supposed to be? Hmm?" Kisame grunted with a twisted grin, the yellow light above casting a shadow over his pointed features. "Is this a fucking joke?"

Seiichi smiled, "So, you don't know this man?"

"Should I?" Kisame inquired sarcastically. "I would never associate myself with someone who hides their face like a coward."

"Mmhm," Seiichi grunted, brow quirking. "So, then you wouldn't mind if we brought him in—would you? Since you're gonna rot here, you also don't mind if we tell him that you tipped us off—would you?"

Kisame paused for only a second, tone sharpening, "You'd lie and put words in my mouth?"

Seiichi plucked a shoulder carelessly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, "I mean—you don't know him, right? So what harm is there in it?"

Kisame scowled, "I want to talk to Solo before you say shit."

"Solo?" Seiichi echoed. "Why- are you tired of me?"

"Solo would do the right thing," Kisame growled, leaning forward. "He wouldn't put words in my fucking mouth."

Seiichi moved; placing both palms on the table and leaning in—face only inches away from Kisame's. He grinned, "Since when did you care about doing the right thing?"

Temari was pissed at him- but she had every right.

Because, while she was posed in bed ready to be ravenged—Shika was typing up an anonymous email in a fever.

Because—when he sat and stared at the freeze frame of the man's face on the video; he thought about it.

Why, after all these years, haven't these men been caught—unless they had someone on the inside?

Why did Shika have to go through the creepiest, haphazard hoops just to obtain a video that was hard to make out?

Why was it almost impossible to find any footage of the Akatsuki—let alone a fucking description besides them wearing all black head to toe?

Furthermore—Sakura's report was only the damage she took.

There were no descriptions—and he was positive she'd give them to the agent.

It's as if all and any physical proof of the men have been wiped over and over again. Shika can read the crime reports all day long- but that was the most of it. He thought about it, and Temari's words came to mind:

What if they had someone on the inside?

It sickened him to think that there was someone crooked enough to both work for the Japanese agency and cover these men's tracks—but it made sense. It shouldn't have taken this long for Shika to just barely see one of them.

So, he wrote an email.

More specifically, he wrote an email to the detective that was on her victim report—one that had been assigned to Sakura's case.

He knew it was a shot in the dark. As a matter of fact, he was really expecting no response—not yet, at least. But he had to try something—all this searching was starting to drive him crazy. He needed to prove he can work with the agent on this one. That, together, they'd have the means to bring the fuckers in for good.

So, he wrote an email.

He attached the freeze frame of the picture, along with a detailed description of his findings and correlations—his reasoning as to why he suspected this man to be an Akatsuki member. Because, once he had a face—it only took an hour or so to dig up information on the man—Kakuzu.

At the very end of his email, as the faint sunlight began to bleed through his windows, Shika typed:

"I understand that I am a stranger and that you should take full precaution in receiving this information. Also understand, I refuse to stand by while these men are on the streets. Above I have given you plenty of information that serves as concrete, solid evidence on this man's potential involvement in the Akatsuki. Show this to Kisame—look at your response. I say this for multiple reasons. Additionally, I have speculated that the Akatsuki have a man on the inside working for them. I believe it to be someone high up in the ranks—someone in a position of power to sweep all of this under the proverbial rug. It would make sense, as you have clearly run into a dead end for over a year now.

If you get no response from Kisame—if I'm wrong and this isn't the man, then disregard this.

However, if you find him behaving in a certain manner—if you find him asking for someone else, then it's high time we caught one of many fuckers.

I am doing this because, like so many, I want justice.

I am doing this because, it's clear, you need help.

Respond to me at this email—this one alone.

Sincerely,

Shadow."

Shika sighed heavily; leaning back into his chair and watching the pale sky gradually brighten.

It was a shot in the dark.

But he had always been a man of thought and action. Strategic in everything he did.

As he got up to go apologize to Temari, Shika had just an inkling of confidence that maybe—just maybe—this was a start to the domino effect that was jailing the Akatsuki.