C/W: Injury in second scene

Chapter Twelve: Promise Me

Sakura was weightless.

Affection requited was molten gold in her blood as her boots flew over the frost-crusted breath crystalized in the air yet she felt none of the cold. Only the tingle in her lips. The ache in her cheeks. Gods, she must have looked like a madwoman, grinning from ear to ear as she sprinted to the complex.

At last.

Sasuke's quiet admission still felt like a dream. But all those suspicions, those moments of doubt with him… they hadn't been all in her head.

Despite it nearing midnight, the landscape was illuminated by deep emerald ribbons of light, dancing at the horizon behind the ravine ahead. As unpredictable as it was, she was grateful to this strange, beautiful land. If not for this mission, how long would he have hidden his feelings?

Motion at the periphery of her vision gave her pause. A pair of birds surveyed the land from their burrow. Milky plumage extended down their densely feathered legs, and brows of crimson feathers capped their heads. The larger one cooed, louder and louder, until the sound reverberate through the field like the rumble of thunder.

Sakura ground to a halt. That wasn't a bird cry.

"You were supposed to wait at home."

Distracted, she had not noticed the two posts of the rope bridge. Or the man that waited in between.

His voice set her hair on end. It was unnerving low with a rattling quality that reminded her of a dying beast. His cloak draped a frame at was twice as broad as the average man and easily seven feet in height. Sinuous tendrils of dark hair hung to his elbows, framing an steel mask that covered his face entirely.

Scorpion.

This was bad. How had he found her? She'd cheated with a bit of chakra for speed, but it had been a minuscule amount.

S-rank.

Leagues more dangerous than the pair of Kumo-nin she'd taken on two nights ago, and she was all alone. How long would it take Sasuke or Sai to find her body out here?

The mad drumming in her ears made it hard to think. Aizu was seven miles away, but retreat meant sacrificing her lead on Higa. The estate was even further ahead, but the only path was across that rope bridge. Sakura dropped her pack to the ground.

Fight.

"So eager," he tutted. "I am not your enemy."

Yet even as he spoke, he was unclasping the cross-collar of his cloak. Underneath, he wore heavy armor, uncharacteristic of shinobi— a breastplate strapped over a chainmail undercoat and gauntlets of lobstered steel. His shoulders were obscenely muscled, carved from rock. A length of chain as thick as her arm uncoiled from his waist to pile on the ground, ending in a wicked, curved blade. He held the other end in his hand— a chain whip.

No metal. Hastily Sakura untied the weapons pouch at her waist and removed her belt. "What do you want?"

"To make you an offer."

Was this another clone? The landscape offered scant visual cover, but his real body could be miles away.

"I don't know why the two of you are here," he said. "I don't care. Interfere with my plans again, and I will kill you both."

"You plan to kill the warlord," Sakura guessed. "You're after the Aizu mine."

"Higa Masao is blinded by greed. He will bring nothing but death to Aizu, as he did to Matsuo."

Realization dawned. "That mountain village in Lightning… it was your hometown."

"Ash and cinder now," he said. "Before we discovered that cursed vein of gem, we were coal miners. His developers led in mercenaries; Matsuo became a battleground. A pair of them fought next to the ventilation shaft and lit the fumes. The spark ended up underground, and the whole town sunk into the burning coal. My father died that day."

But Sasuke said Scorpion was the one who had engineered that accident…

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sakura said. "But I can't let you kill him."

"Foolish."

He leapt toward her, drawing his weapon in a high arch overhead. Crack! A sharp whistle of wind was her only warning before it snapped at her. Sakura sprang back, arms crossed over her chest, and her heel caught on a rock. The edge of blade skimmed her bracer, and the force of just that small contact was enough to send her skidding along the ground.

"The missing scouts all those years," Sakura coughed. "It wasn't the terrain, it was you."

"The few sacrificed to spare the many."

She needed an opening. With Sasori of the Red Sand, she had used his tail whip as leverage. Although forty pounds of wooden puppet was much easier to haul in than near-four hundred of flesh and steel…

They carried on for hours, his whip flicking toward the air like a serpent's tongue. The thin layer of frozen snow on the ground was crosshatched with ruddy dirt from her evasion. She was all too aware that he was driving her around, pushing her back until—

Her heel drew to the edge of the ravine, a gaping black maw at her back.

"I meant to pick you off, but you are not as weak as you appear," Scorpion growled, armor dented by her fists. He clasped his hands in Dragon and chakra flared, as noxious as miasma. The blade tip of the whip levitated off the ground as if held by an invisible string. Jiton.

The sun broke over the horizon, hot on her back. She was running out of time. Sakura gritted her teeth.

This was going to hurt.

She charged headlong, the skin of her right arm tightening as she directed her remaining chakra to her fist.

"Stupid little girl—"

The tell-tale whistle of the blade lifted her hair. Scorpion braced in a squat. His metal mask filled her vision. Sakura jabbed with her left arm. Like a striking python, the whip twisted around her elbow and then tugged with immeasurable force.

Pop!

Pain exploded from her left shoulder at the same time that Sakura slammed her right fist into his temple. The edge of his mask curled like origami. The hideous crunch under her knuckles told her she'd shattered bone. Her teeth clattered at the force of impact.

His body collapsed to the ground, neck flexed at an abnormal angle. Black blood bubbled from his right ear. The whip loosed from her arm to coil on the ground.

When the adrenaline wore off, Sakura took stock of the damage. Scrapes and cuts, but her left shoulder was the worst off. By the twisting of her arm, definitely dislocated. Sakura sank to her knees and gripped her left forearm at eye level.

One, two, three.

She yanked and gasped when the bones slid into place. Don't faint don't faint don't faint. Cold sweat beaded on her neck and her stomach rolled with nausea. When the spots of black in her vision cleared, Sakura crawled to the body.

His black hair was matted to dreadlocks. Sakura flipped him to his back, and her dinner came boiling back up. There were no words for the fetid stench that emanated from his body. Quickly forsaking her plans to unmask the man, Sakura sped through the sealing technique and clicked the scroll shut.

Breath burned in her lungs, and sweat plastered the hair to her neck. Sakura couldn't remember the last time she had to fight like this, to the brink of collapse. Ranged combat had never her forte.

Yet she shouldered her pack, she was exultant.

She had taken down a S-rank criminal. Alone.

No Chiyo or puppet strings or teammates. This was what she'd been missing on those endless days in the hospital. This was what she'd trained for, what made her blood sing. As she crossed the rope bridge, her cheeks ached with a different sort of smile.

By the time the complex came into sight, Sakura felt as though she had waded through a lake of cold molasses. She'd never welcomed a sight as the wall of cypress trees against the dusty red landscape. Sai's map in hand, Sakura crept past the alarms in the garden to the wall. Her left shoulder protested, but she hauled herself into the bedroom window.

Inside, a woman combed her pink hair at the vanity.

"Alright," Sakura gasped. "Give it here." Her shadow clone dispersed, and chakra returned to her veins like a drink of cold water. Eleven-thirty on the clock— it would be a sloppy rotator cuff repair.

Sakura's legs were lead as she showered and ransacked her closet for something that required the least effort to assemble. She settled on a fitted half-sleeve bodice in sea-green silk and a gauzy, full skirt that flowed from her waist. The mascara wand quivered too violently in her fingers, but she fared better with the pen.

With Scorpion out of the way, there remained the final part of the mission— uncovering what Higa had offered the other villages. Despite going through his office with a fine-tooth comb, she had found neither hide nor hair of a ledger. If only she'd had the sense to go through his private quarters that first night.

Just three days remained of Higa's original two week proposal. With luck and her teammates' help, Sakura could complete the mission in one night. Especially with Sasuke's sharingan.

And if there wasn't a ledger…

Well, she'd worry about that when the time came. For now she just needed to focus on Higa.

At the side table, there was a tray of breakfast with a rich, umber beverage that smelled of hazelnuts. Sakura drained the mug. It was bitter, but it settled her rolling stomach. She was halfway through a buttery slab of flatbread when the attendant knocked at her door.

They walked down the eastern corridor, away from the ruined ballroom, and Sakura caught a whiff of night jasmine before they even stepped outside. Five pairs of female eyes turned on her under the pavilion. The women were arranged on marble benches circling the fountain, as resplendent as a painting.

Oops.

Sakura sat by the only girl she recognized, enshrined in the gossamer folds of her silver gown. She was the one who'd checked Higa's breathing the first night.

"Nanami, right?" The girl's long eyelashes were tipped with needlepoint crystals, and her hair was braided with sprigs of baby's breath. It must have taken hours. "Are you feeling ill?"

Sakura wiped a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. "Just peachy."

Higa strode in to the pavilion alone. The women stood, so Sakura did too. To her surprise, he walked straight toward her. Too late, she realized she'd forgotten the recorder.

"How was your trip, H—Masao?"

"The mountain air was refreshing. Did you miss me?" He took in her bare face, finger-combed hair, and exposed midriff.

"I could hardly sleep."

"I'm sure." He offered her an arm. "Let's go for a walk."

He steered her through rear gardens, between carpets of star geraniums, blush peonies and Shimori roses the size of her fist. The air seemed warmer, more humid here than outside the perimeter.

"It's so beautiful." Sakura did not feign her marvel. "How do you grow these in this climate?"

"You'll have to ask the Sakura shinobi."

A chill ran down her spine. "What?"

He looked blankly at her. "From the Land of Flowers. I commissioned them to construct this bio-dome after my father's garden. A streak of nostalgia, I suppose."

They ambled into a greenhouse filled with a single plant: rows of broad, ovate leaves and whorls of lavender blossoms spiked with seeds. "Did your father grow these as well?"

"No, my own addition."

"What would he think of your habit?"

"He didn't care, and my mother was never home long enough to notice." Higa plucked a kokova seed from the pod, rolling it between his fingers. The black-violet juices seeped into his fingertips. "They were preoccupied with shinobi affairs."

"In Iwa?" Sakura crouched to caress the flowers. An ink rabbit hopped from behind a jasmine-covered trellis, and Sakura shoved her wadded up note in its mouth.

"Kumo. Have you ever heard of 'H'? That was her moniker during the Third War."

"Afraid that was before I was born."

Higa flung the seed away and wiped his fingers on his silk robe. "I forget my vintage. How old are you, kitten?"

"It's impolite to ask a lady her age," Sakura said. "But twenty-one, since I like you."

"Still a girl."

"Oh, I disagree."

"Of course you do." He met her gaze with amusement. "Let's head in. Accompany an old man while he works."

Higa read his paperwork in silence, deflecting her attempts at conversation until the sun went down, and Sakura was resigned to spending the evening with him. Work became dinner, and dinner became drinks.

"Why did you leave Kumo?"

He filled her ceramic bowl with another ladle of amazake, a fermented delicacy that tasted of sweet sake and hints of passionfruit. "I was running away."

"From political unrest?"

Higa, for what it was worth, seemed intent on drinking her under the table. "From heartbreak."

Sakura took measured sips, yet her cheeks heated with undeniable warmth. "I don't believe you."

"Even us licentious curs were innocent boys once," he said, smirking. "I was fifteen at a shinobi event in Suna. She was nineteen, a practiced flirt, and hauntingly lovely. If I had any hope of passing that exam, she was the nail in the coffin."

"How long were you together?"

"Two years. She was my first everything, the ruler of my heart." He took a long draught from his bowl. "The night I asked her to marry me, she told me she was betrothed to another— a wealthy merchant, arranged by her parents. If it was any consolation, she told me, she did not love him. I was a penniless genin and I clung to that reassurance long after I left Kumo."

His laugh was dry. "And now that I am richer than the daimyo himself, I consort exclusively with women I pay for pleasure and company. Make of that what you will."

"It sounds like you already have," she said mildly. The Suna Chunin Exams at fifteen would put him at twenty-nine or thirty now. Which meant the Matsuo incident occurred years after he had already left Kumo. "What about Riku?"

He waved a hand. "A business partner introduced us two months ago. It didn't go anywhere."

Sakura startled. Only two months?

"And you, Nanami? Who was your first love?"

"Oh." She recovered. "I was a girl."

"Indulge me."

No need to lie, she supposed. "We were schoolmates. He was the popular crush, the top of the class. I was so infatuated, I grew my hair out for his attention," she said. "I confessed, but he didn't feel the same. Eventually, he moved out of town."

"How did you get over him?"

Sakura fought a snort.

If only he knew how hard she had tried to forget Uchiha Sasuke.

Two years ago, she tried in earnest. She met Hyuuga Kou, a jonin colleague, at Hinata's nineteenth birthday party, where they'd swapped stories over Naruto and his cousin's respective accounts of their fumbling but endearing courtship. Kou was polite and attractive, and it felt good to bask in unfettered male attention. Sasuke hadn't spared her a second look in three years, so when Kou asked her to dinner, she said yes.

Eleven years of pining, she thought, was long enough.

Apparently, it wasn't. Through their date, Sakura was plagued with what-ifs. What if she didn't have to share her childhood memories of Naruto, and he just knew? What if the eyes that watched her from across the table were not frost-colored but obsidian? The vexing truth was that Sasuke was the standard which she'd— unconsciously, unwillingly— held every man to. And who could compare to him?

She still remembered the first time he walked into her apartment. How he sucked the air out of the room, too large and dominating in her cozy space. The sight of him in her kitchen chair made her heart beat faster than any date. Sleep evaded her that night.

"Do you ever get over your first love?"

"I intend to drink and fuck like a madman until I do," Higa said. "Don't let my sorry tale sully your opinion of me."

"You endeavor to greatness," Sakura said dryly.

Higa brought a heel to rest on his seat. The pot of amazuke had run dry and the candles burned to the wicks in their holders. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked you to drink with me."

As she watched Higa's grey eyes glow in the firelight, a slow revelation dawned. "Sweet wine and bewitching company?"

"Careful, Nanami. I could accuse you of flirting."

"I would never be so unprofessional."

"A pity," he said. "Perhaps I can convince you otherwise."

He laid a ebony box on the table. Inside was… well Sakura wasn't sure what it was. Delicate, metallic butterfly wings lit on a mass of branches wrought of pure gold, tipped with night pearls, rubies, and white jade. The molten candlelight caught on the fringe of interlocked threads of fine copper chain.

At her hesitation, he prompted, "For your hair."

Sakura lifted it from the box and saw the pins underneath. She fixed it over her ear, with more than a bit of difficulty. The drink was much stronger than it tasted. Finally, it stayed. "How do I look?" she asked, lowering her eyelashes.

His smile faded.

"Like an empress."

The final piece of a puzzle that she'd been assembling all of this mission clicked into place. Sakura rose to her feet, ignoring the sudden lurch of the room.

She read his tells as easily as those of a sparring partner. How his fingers tensed imperceptibly at the fine satin of the tablecloth. How his throat tightened in a swallow at her approach. How his tongue wetted his lips and his pulse jumped. It was all so clear, the unspoken language of men, and Sakura wondered how it had taken her this long to comprehend.

The gauzy layers of her skirt pooled around his knees, and she tipped his chin up toward her. A shudder ran down his spine when she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Masao."

When she stood back, he was sullen. "Gods, you must be making a fortune."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, bitterly. "To think I believed your rouse of innocence. How many men before me have you fooled?"

"You are my first client."

"A sweet lie, and yet…" He turned to her, hand fisted on his knee. "Spend the night with me. I have never groveled."

"I have no reason to lie," Sakura said. "And you have no reason to grovel." His expression darkened at her words with unmistakable hunger. She pressed a finger to his lips. "But not tonight."

Not before she met with her team.

Fiery ire flashed through his eyes. For a moment, she thought he would seize her, but it passed. "How cruel," he conceded. "My cruel Nanami."

Sakura did not wait to be dismissed, but when she swept out of the hall, he did not stop her.

The ornament had taken root in her hair. Sakura winced as she tugged it out, sacrificing the few strands tangled with the elaborate gold wiring. The treasury department would have a field day with this thing.

Her shoulder screamed bloody murder when she tried to unclasp the tie of her bodice. Sakura gave up and sank into the vanity chair, eyelids like two anchors.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Sasuke spoke so near her ear that she jumped. When had he come in? In the mirror, she saw him cross his arms, thick muscles bulging against the fabric. The memory of how effortlessly he'd lifted her that first night in Aizu made her blood heat.

"Got into a fight." She shifted in her seat to better admire the delicious view. "Didn't you get my message?"

Wordlessly, he handed her the crumpled note.

Sakura squinted. Okay, admittedly, not her best work. But she was short on time, and what else could that nightmarish kanji be? "Scorpion."

His scowled. "What? On the way here?"

She managed to string together some words to convey the important bits of the encounter. "I didn't have time to examine the body."

"He was waiting for you at the bridge," Sasuke said, darkly. "He targeted you."

"It's fine. I got him." Sakura was only a little disappointed that he hadn't commended her on victory. "Did Riku come back with you two?"

"No, Higa said she headed home first."

Had Riku left to tip Scorpion off? She was the one loose end that remained of this mess.

Ugh.

Sakura stood, and the fatigue of the day hit her like a train. All the blood rushed from her head and spots of black pebbled her vision. Sasuke's arm shot out to steady her, while she twisted, attempting the bodice once more.

He frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Do I seem drunk?"

"Completely."

Sakura sighed and raised her hair. "Help, please."

Instantly, his breath was at her neck. He unclasped her top with deft fingers and dragged the zipper a quarter of the way down. In the mirror, the sight of his broad shoulders behind hers made her breath hitch in her throat.

He heard. Any remnants of her inhibition burned away in the carnality of his gaze. "We can talk later," he said. "Go to bed."

Sakura did not know what possessed her to turn. "Alone?" she asked.

"Yeah." His voice was thick. "You're going to forget all this."

She dragged her nails up the tantalizing ridges of his stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt, biting back a smile at his shudder. "Help me remember," she whispered.

Crimson splintered through the black of his irises, and it was intoxicating, watching him come undone.

This. Him.

Part of her had always known the truth— she had never gotten over him. The first night that Kou stayed over was vivid in her memory. Not for passion, but for how crestfallen she'd felt, lying awake in the sheets while he drifted off.

Was that it?

It was over so quickly, and it was... unsatisfying. Sheer frustration goaded her into closing her eyes, and as guilty as she felt, pining for a man who wasn't even in the village while in bed with another, when her hand disappeared into her underwear, it was his voice whispering demands in her ear, his thick fingers that stroked her core until she was wet with need—

"Sakura," he snarled.

Oops.

Had she said that out loud?

Sasuke's rough hands found the zipper on the back of her bodice and yanked it off. Cold air puckered the skin of her hips when her skirt followed suit. "You want a gentleman—"

Of you? Sakura wanted to laugh, but the world tipped on its axis as she was swept up, weightless once more. He settled her into the pillows and sank into the cradle of her hips.

Sasuke raked his gaze over her, eyes hooded.

Sakura imagined herself, hair splayed across the sheets and pinned under his powerful frame in a lace bra and underwear. Would he think they were small? She crossed her arms over her chest.

He pushed them aside, impatient to see, and then dipped his head to press a reverent kiss to her jaw. His palm was shockingly rough and large on her breast, but not unpleasantly so. As he trailed his lips down to the valley between them, Sakura's eyes slid closed, bones melting.

Something hot and moist settled over her nipple, each languid flick sending liquid heat to pool between her legs. Blindly, she threaded her fingers through his hair. His touches were hypnotic, soothing the sour ache in her muscles.

Sakura conceded defeat.

Her arms fell limp as she sank into the decadent darkness… Then his mouth lifted, leaving her skin cold. "No, keep going," she mumbled.

He exhaled. "You're exhausted."

The heavy weight of the duvet over her body extinguished her protests. As he rose to leave, she had the sense to grapple at his shirt, tugging him back into bed. He paused, and then she was cocooned, snug against his chest, engulfed in the earthy aroma of sandalwood and storm.

"Tomorrow, then. Promise me."

His words were strained. "Whenever you want."

A slow hand stroked her hair, as his heart played a sweet lullaby in her ear.

A/N: I finished outlining the story :) Excited for where this is going