"- shot himself in the head. He died immediately."

"I know he died immediately," Seiichi remarked bitterly. "I watched him die immediately."

"What's with the trauma across his features? Did you two fight?"

Seiichi's brows ticked down, "He was pointing a gun at me. I had to defend myself."

The officer ran his tongue along his teeth, casting Seiichi a skeptical mien before jotting down something in his little notebook. He tapped his pen twice on the top of the notebook, jerking his chin and pressing, "Who-"

Seiichi held up his hand, cutting off the officer, "Listen. You might be new to the job, I don't know. What I do know, is that you as an officer have no right to be questioning me—an agent for the Japanese government. I was tasked with finding these men and taking them in—dead or alive. Do you see this man here? The one who shot himself in the fucking head? He's the leader of the Akatsuki. The fucking leader. That guy back there on the stretcher?" Seiichi pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the ambulance behind them. "That fucking guy had all the intel I needed to take these fucks down."

The officer plucked a shoulder lazily, "Well, the leader's dead—so, you win, right?"

Seiichi sighed, shaking his head and taking a step back from the officer, "How about you just do whatever else you're supposed to do—and I'll do my fucking job."

"Whatever you say...Agent."

Seiichi turned away from the man, hobbling his way to the opened end of the ambulance where two men were loading up Sasori; a woman on the inside making quick work of hooking Sasori up. The pale faced man's face was almost ashen, his lips a subtle blue.

Seiichi couldn't believe shit played out the way it did.

None of this went according to plan—not even remotely close.

Had it gone Seiichi's way, he'd be on his way to the agency right now with Hidan in tow. He'd sit Sasori down with Solo's superiors and have Sasori leak all the information and then some. Solo would lose his job, Hidan would be jailed; Sasori would have led them to the rest of the men.

Instead, he was looking at one dead body and another one of which he wasn't sure was dead or alive.

Seiichi waved down the woman on the inside, "Excuse me, but—will he make it?"

She shook her head, lower lip jut out in a sympathetic grimace, "He's barely there. If we don't get him to the hospital now, we will lose him."

Seiichi nodded, "Right. Get going, then. I don't want him gone."

"Was he a friend?" She hummed softly.

Seiichi scoffed, glowering, "Hardly. He's the enemy."

Her face fell, "Oh..."

Seiichi jerked his chin, "I'll meet you at the hospital. I'm going to ride with that other man in this ambulance over here. Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't do anything."

"He...he can't," she remarked, expression confused.

"Just- don't trust him, okay? He's a criminal."

She shook her head, "He's still a human being."

Seiichi cast the woman a glance before turning his attention to the other ambulance where Kizashi was, sat back in the gurney while the man placed an IV in his arm. Seiichi slowly climbed in, clutching his side and grunting before he sat down; gazing at Kizashi.

He was almost too fuckin' late again.

Seiichi clapped a hand lightly over Kizashi's shoulder, asking, "How are you feeling?"

Kizashi gave a slow nod, choking on his words, "I, ah...I'm..."

Seiichi gave his own sympathetic nod, "You don't have to say anything."

"That young man," Kizashi began, gaze dropping to the dried blood on his hands, "do you think he'll make it?"

"Maybe," Seiichi answered. "For all of our sake, I hope he pulls through. We need his intel."

Kizashi's gaze picked up, "Intel? Are you not worried for his life?"

Seiichi's face ticked, "Why should I be? He's a criminal, Kizashi. He's one of the men who-"

"I know who he is," Kizashi began. "I spent most of my time tied up and speaking with him."

"So then you know that he's one of the men that had a hand in torturing your daughter, sir."

"He played no part," Kizashi began, surprising Seiichi. "He fed her and gave her water—he never laid his hands on her. He couldn't back away for fear of her life—he was afraid if he did anything rash Hidan would have taken it out on her."

Seiichi scoffed, jolting slightly when the ambulance began to take off, "You believe that?"

Kizashi frowned, "I'd like to. A young man like that...I've never seen someone so haunted before. He told me everything about Sakura; beginning to end. He told me of her abuse, rape, and torture that Hidan and the others did to her. He didn't have the means to save her at the time. But he did make sure she got away at the end—it was his prodding and his pushing to have Hidan go through with the trade off instead of keeping her longer, like Hidan wanted to do."

Seiichi blinked.

Kizashi continued, twisting his torso to better look at Seiichi, "Did you know, that Hidan wanted to keep Sakura—for good? He wanted to use her up until she inevitably died. Sasori was the one who constantly reminded Hidan of the cash and what trading her off meant. Sasori has sins he must atone for—and I hope he pays...However, I can't help but see a little boy behind the mask. I see a son with no mother and no father—an orphan. Sasori wanted to leave that dreaded gang for years, but never had the courage to. At least, until you came along."

"Me?" Seiichi echoed sarcastically. "He could have left at any time."

Kizashi shook his head, "It's not that easy, Agent—and you know it. Sasori saw how determined you were to save Sakura, so you were his out. All he wants to do is pay for his crimes, Agent. I believe...at the heart of it all, he's a good boy. Somewhere along the way, he just got twisted into the sickest, most cruel path."

"You've got Stockholm Syndrome," Seiichi snorted, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "You can't tell me you have sympathy for a man who watched your daughter get tortured day in and day out."

"I have sympathy for a man who tried to go against the grain and save my daughter."

"Tch. That's not how I see it."

"Maybe one day when you have children, you'll understand what it means to look into the eyes of a child. I look into Sasori's eyes, and all I see is a damaged little boy."

"A boy who murdered men."

Kizashi sighed, "I'm well aware, Agent. What I'm getting at, is have an ounce of compassion for human life as a whole. The same compassion he showed my daughter—the same compassion he showed me."

"You've got it all twisted," Seiichi grunted, shaking his head. "Let's drop this topic. How are you feeling, physically?"

Kizashi managed a shrug, "Weak. Beat up. I definitely don't feel my best, son. Where is my daughter? Where is Mebuki? Are they safe?"

Seiichi nodded, glad to change the subject, "Yes, they are safe. From what I understand, Mebuki stayed with your family friend Mashimo and Sakura stayed with Kakashi and Naruto."

A thin brow quirked, "Kakashi?"

Seiichi nodded, "Shocked silver hair?"

Kizashi gave a low hum, "Why was Kakashi involved...?"

Seiichi shook his head, "I was in the hospital bed in between Mebuki and Sakura. When the news was broken to Sakura, she..."

Kizashi's frown deepened, "Did she have an episode?"

"I suppose so. She was panicking, crying, and screaming. Naruto and Kakashi were there attempting to get her to calm down. I happened to hear it all, unfortunately."

"Did she calm down? What happened?"

Seiichi blew out a gust of breath, "I didn't see it—like I said, I just heard it. That Kakashi was the one who managed to calm her down. He kept telling her that he loved her, and-"

"Loved her?!" Kizashi echoed in surprise, eyebrows shooting up. "Are you sure you heard that right?"

"I mean, I heard what I heard. Do with it what you will."

"Loved her..." Kizashi muttered, glancing down in thought before his gaze picked back up to meet Seiichi's, "When can I see my wife and daughter?"

"Soon," Seiichi replied. "Let's get you in the hospital first and taken care of. We can't let them know you're alive until we make sure the rest of the Akatsuki don't come for you—or your family."

"Agent," Kizashi began, sincerity dripping in his tone, "thank you for what you've done—both for myself and my daughter. Thank you for not giving up on us."

Seiichi smiled, but said nothing.

He said nothing, because in his mind—there was nothing to thank.

While he was glad Kizashi was safe and out of harm's way, he was upset he lost Hidan—and possibly Sasori, too. He wanted to capture all the Akatsuki, not just one and a couple dead bodies. He wanted them off the streets for good, so that not a soul could be harmed again. He wanted to take pride in the fact that Hidan was dead, but the coward died by his own hand.

There was no pride in that.

Hidan was a man who deserved to suffer—to the fullest extent.

And the fucker knew that.

The fucker knew once he was in the hands of the law, with Sasori giving over intel, it was all over. He would be royally fucked, in the best way possible. There would have been no compassion for the sick fuck, no leniency; nothing of the sort. He'd pay for his crimes; he'd rot away in his own suffering until his heart stopped beating. He'd lose his power, he'd lose his men; his territory, everything.

Did he think outing himself was really the best option?

Did he think killing himself would keep all of these under his name?

Or was it more?

Seiichi thought hard about Hidan's treaty with the Yakuza—the amount of heat Hidan was under to be making desperate attempts as he has been doing. Even if Hidan was jailed, there was no doubt in Seiichi's mind the Yakuza would make quick work of him; torturing him until he was inevitably killed.

So, to avoid it all, he took himself out.

Like a fuckin' coward.

At least, that was his theory.
It just didn't make sense for someone so desperate for power to blow their own brains out—unless they had something or someone else to fear.

Now Seiichi worried about the other Akatsuki members. He worried if they'll scatter, rebel—he wasn't sure. Everything was practically riding on Sasori's survival. Should Sasori die, that would be it for Seiichi—with Solo in office, his career would be over for going behind Solo's back at attempts to capture members.

There would be no blaze of glory.

There would be no honor.

In all honesty, with Solo in office, he would be ripped to shreds for how much of a wreck this had become.

He had to get Solo out.

Sasori had to survive.

Of all the eyes that haunt him, it's those damned emerald orbs that seer into his very being. He can see their suffering, their betrayal; the agonizing pain, the turmoil. Her tears drowned him, her screams deafened him.

Brilliant, glittering jade depths begging for mercy.

He had plenty of ghosts, but she was the demon that lurked along the edges of his mind. Her suffering made him suffer, her pain was his pain.

She was god, judging him.

She was the devil, torturing him.

She was an angel, a symbol of mercy.

She was human, a woman who appeared to be capable of love; begging invisible gods for death when the torture became too much.

He should have saved her sooner.
He should have acted sooner.

Maybe then, he could have been redeemed—if only by a fraction.

Yet, there was no redemption for him—he knew this much. He was doomed to a life of suffering.

So, when the bullet barreled through his chest; Sasori knew it wasn't fitting. Even as he gazed into the eyes of a man who showed him unwarranted compassion; even as pain rushed through every fiber of his being and blood flowed freely from the cavity—he knew.

Getting shot in the chest was just too easy of a way to go.

She doesn't remember falling asleep, she just remembers the cage of Kakashi's arms being warm and comforting.

She doesn't remember losing consciousness at the hospital, she just remembers an overwhelming sense of dread took over her.

She doesn't remember having the episode, she just remembers the mismatched eyes that pulled her out of it.

Sakura's heart was shattering; constantly breaking into billions of pieces that—should something happen—she knew she'd never be able to put back together again. The same monsters that made her existence hell for thirty days were the same monsters holding her father hostage—for what?

What was their plan?

Along with heartache, Sakura felt fear. She was afraid for her life again; afraid they'd be around the corner, ready to pounce and drag her away. She was afraid they'd hurt her mother; Kakashi, Naruto. She was afraid of losing her father, she was afraid of losing her freedom.

Sakura was fucking frightened.

She wished she could be help to the officers. She wished she could remember where their hideout was, or the drive there. She wished she could remember names instead of faces, but the trauma had blocked so much out that she only had nightmares to offer.

And what help was that?

What good was she, if she couldn't help save her father?

What good was she, if this was her fault?

It was her fault her father was being targeted.
Her fault he's being tortured.
Her fault he's being mocked.
Her fault he's being tied up.

Beat.
Punched.
Slapped.
Kicked.

Sakura knew—deep, deep in her gut, she knew—she should have died there. Maybe then that chapter would have closed and her parents could mourn her. Maybe then, her mother wouldn't be in this position for a second time and her father wouldn't have to suffer.

Pain crackled and clenched among Sakura's senses.

She woke up with a sob in her throat and tears in her eyes.

Watching Sakura fall apart wrenched Kakashi's very soul.

Watching her weep and plead to a god that it be her instead of him made him nauseated.

Watching her shudder and tremble, far away and haunted, shook his very being.

He wanted nothing more than to give her answers to the questions she was asking—but there was nothing he could possibly say within the realm of truth. He wanted nothing more than to call the agent and ask what he should be doing—but he was already doing it.

He was doing everything he could possibly think of.

Holding her, soothing her, comforting her; remaining steadfast by her side.

He was doing everything he possibly could, yet—she was still broken.

Breaking.

He hated it, watching her fall apart.

He hated it, feeling like there was nothing else he could do to ease this pain.

He hated it, knowing Kizashi was being held captive by the same men who gave Sakura all this misery.

He wanted justice.

He wanted the right thing to be done by Sakura and Kizashi.

He only hoped the Agent was doing everything in his power to see this through and bring Sakura's father home.

In the mean time...

Kakashi did everything he possibly could.

Naruto was frowning at the sobs emitting from the end of the receiver.

He broke the news to Ino.

He had to.

"Why is this happening," Ino sobbed, sniffing hard and coughing. "I don't understand why these fucks are targeting them."

Naruto blew out a heavy, exhausted sigh, "I don't know, Ino. The Agent is on the case, so-"

"So, what?" Ino sneered through tears, "So, it's going to be a whole month before we see Kizashi? Kizashi is older, he wouldn't survive that kind of treatment."

"We've got no choice but to trust this Agent," Naruto remarked dully. "He appeared determined. He can do more than the fucking police can."

"I just can't believe this," she muttered. "I can't believe this is happening. How is Sakura? And Mebuki?"

"A wreck," Naruto answered immediately. "Both of them, they're just a wreck."

"Where are they?"

"Mebuki is with Mashimo and Sakura here with me at Kakashi's house. Sakura didn't want to go to Mashimo's home for obvious reasons."

Ino sighed, "Do you need me to come over? I can come over, and I ca-"

"No, Ino," Naruto cut. "Thanks, but no. Sakura's already overwhelmed as it is. I think right now a little space would be fine."

Ino hummed, dissatisfied, "Okay, well...Please let her know that I'm here if she needs anything, anything at all."

"I will."

After a couple more words, the line ended and Naruto gazed at the screen of his phone blankly. He could feel the painful squeeze of his heart, he could feel Sakura's pain, he could feel Kakashi's pain; Mebuki's mourning was tangible and the tension was undeniable.

Gazing out the window, Sakura's soft cries echoing just outside the door; Naruto hoped.

He hoped the Agent was swift and driven.

For a man who could do nothing, he hoped the best for the man that could do everything.

Time was running out.

Seiichi knew this the moment police showed up with the ambulance.

Of course, it was protocol. He knew that. He also knew that it wouldn't take long for news to reach Solo's desk. Seiichi figured he had maybe several hours before Solo's Agents were knocking on the door to Kizashi's hospital room, looking for Seiichi.

It was only a matter of time.

And, as he gazed at Sasori's shallow breathing, Seiichi wondered if he had any time at all.