author's note: Let me preface this by addressing the M rating of this fic: yes there is sex and sexual tension and situations, but there is plot. And action, for that matter.
disclaimer: Pfft yeah right like I own Naruto.
Operation: Nightingale
i.
Land of Iron
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It was no secret that the shinobi world was racked with turmoil. Even Konoha, once an abdominal stronghold, was beginning to crumble. The shortage of shinobi aid was proof of the fact that the Fire Country desperately needed help, and that the villages that supplied such aid were being run ragged. Times were tough, and everyone knew; it was as if the entire Leaf Village was suspended in the air, frozen and waiting to shatter. Wallets were pinched from lack of funds, shops closed down from a lack of customers. For the first time since the last Shinobi War, people remembered the whisperings of rebellion, of invasion, and feared travelling once again.
They were teetering on the edge of what could be the next Great Battle; the possibility was so stark and tangible that the faintest breeze could tip the scales in either direction. The only lead they had was the mere possibility that intelligence had found the source of the rapidly forming army – a man who reigned over Iron Country: Watatsumi Susanoo.
The Land of Iron kept mostly to itself, touting neutrality over all other Countries – its role in previous wars was that of bystander. In fact, when faced with the possibility of taking a side or otherwise forced to take a stand with any particular army, Iron Country always belayed the message that they would not be assuaged, often shaming and sending any request for aid running back home with bad news.
Which was why the fact that the impending doom currently hanging over the Shinobi World could possibly be from the Land of Iron was such a ridiculous notion.
But it was also their only lead.
"Not much is known about Susanoo," the Hokage declared, bridging her fingers and eyeing the medic before her. "We don't even know if the rumor is true, but we can't take the chance. It's all we've got, and we need to approach this matter very carefully. If Iron Country got wind that a particular Shinobi Village was snooping around, we would surrender whatever upper-hand we might have." A deep sigh escaped her lips then, and the elder blonde pushed forth a manila envelope across her desk. It was thick with information and a background story and marked with the ANBU seal. "This is your new identity. Read, memorize, and become her. We...don't know how long it will take before you can return home."
The implication was clear: her mission was indefinite.
"Do you accept your mission, Haruno Sakura?"
"Aa."
Once the ANBU left, Tsunade allowed herself to release a breath she had been holding and slumped back in her chair, wondering if she made a mistake sending her Head Medic on such an assignment. But word had it that Iron Country needed a medic to treat an epidemic, and Sakura was the best they had – she would have the most opportunity to infiltrate Susanoo's ranks, afterall.
That didn't make the decision any easier. The Hokage closed her eyes, hoping the lead was not false and that she wasn't putting the life of her greatest apprentice at risk.
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Name: Hatsui Tsukiko
Age: 28
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Village: Degarashi, Tea Country
Blood Type: AB+
Sakura watched the brunette woman peer out from the curtains of her caravan as it bumped across the border and along the winding road into Fire Country. From that small glimpse the medic surmised that her target was a nice young woman, bright, intellectual, but clearly afraid to have crossed into a ninja infested land. It always irked Sakura the way people regarded her kind – they sought their protection and yet declared them despicable for having done dirty work.
The ANBU followed, wondering to herself just what this Hatsui Tsukiko had done in her past to be summoned to the Land of Iron – quite practically across the stretch of their continent. Konoha heard little of the rumors of this young doctor, but her reputation must have preceded her in some aspect. Once again Sakura found herself searching through her mind for anything that might hint at Tsukiko's accomplishments. Nothing came to mind.
Afterall, she only studied about shinobi medics.
She surveyed the doctor for a couple of days, allowing the ride to pass further through Fire Country and picking up mannerisms from her target. Tsukiko kept to herself mostly, interacting very little with the burly man who escorted her from her southern home – Tea Country was the farthest south you could go before reaching the sea. It was on the evening before they finally exited Fire Country's borders that Sakura made her move.
All it took was a crushed herb mixed into her favorite – chamomile – tea and Tsukiko awoke the next morning abandoned in the farming village incredibly far from home.
Sakura sent a message to Tsunade that she didn't dispose of Tsukiko – the Hokage could deal with her however she wished. Perhaps wipe her memory? Kakashi's sharingan would take care of that.
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The Land of Iron resembled nothing of the other Countries Sakura had ever traversed in her years of experience and apprenticeship. Her assignment file warned her to dress warmly; as the medic studied the gray horizon, flashing with lightning, she couldn't help but wryly note that the suggestion in her scroll was a slight understatement. Snowy mountaintops formed the range before her. Intimidating, jagged shadows peaked into thick, ominous clouds. It seemed that all of Iron Country was beneath a perpetual storm. A harbinger of doom, if she had ever seen one.
"Are you doing alright in there, miss?"
Her still green eyes peered at the man (What was his name, again?) leading the horses before her. He was bundled up in layers, familiar with Iron Country territory. Sakura had very little interaction with him, and, luckily, so had Tsukiko. If he had noticed a change in his passenger's appearance, he failed to notice. Perhaps the simple brown-haired, green-eyed look was enough. He could have never been a shinobi.
"Yes," Sakura answered at last. "Just a bit cold."
The male chuckled, a deep, echoing, warm sound that somehow broke through the distant howling wind. "You'll get used to these storms soon enough," he – Ebisu was his name – assured her, risking a glance back at the woman. Dark eyes peered beneath thick brows, patches of a unruly hair dotting the lower portion of his face. "But the culture, that might take some getting used to."
Before she could respond, he had returned his attention to the narrow cliff-side road, much to Sakura's relief. She pulled the hood of her thin cloak over her foreign dark locks and closed the curtain of her caravan, wondering what might be so shocking about the Land of Iron's culture.
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The manor loomed, tall and stark against the skyline. Its tiers mimicked the slants and ferocity of lightning bolts that served to illuminate the iron fortress in all its indomitable glory. Sakura's carriage was led inside and the first thing she noted with mild interest were the painted faces of not only the female servants, but of the male, as well. Each face was smeared in white, red paint dotting the middle portion of their lips, leaving the corners to blend into the ivory flesh. Small red dots were drawn beneath each eye, at the tops of cheek bones.
Her caravan door opened and Sakura was greeted by a peculiar looking man donning an over-sized headdress molded and structured to mimic a storm at sea. He, along with the others donning his same headdress, wore no white paint but sported the red. The guest quickly surmised it was to distinguish social standing.
The man said nothing as he offered her his hand. She took it, watching her step as the foot-stirrup below the carriage was coated in snow.
"Miss Hatsui, your journey was bearable, I trust?"
Sakura lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of the mysterious leader of Iron. She smiled a pretty smile, demure and practiced, and nodded. "It was...acceptable."
He donned a robe of what appeared to be the softest fur, all in grays and black. Broad shoulders and a chiseled face – he was the embodiment of iron. "Good," even his voice was like a hammer striking an anvil, "you have traveled far. Please, take an evening to rest. Your handmaidens will escort you to your quarters. Make yourself at home." Susanoo had a way of speaking that singled out one person in a room, as if those glinting golden eyes of his had no interest whatsoever in any other living being. "I will introduce you to my army in the morning, they are in dire need of your aid." With a swish of his thick coat, the man turned to leave –
"Then should we wait?" Sakura's query interrupted his retreat, and he peered over his broad shoulder at the guest. "If they need medical attention, I can't rest easy until I've seen to them," she pressed on. If she was there as a medic, might as well uphold a true medic's beliefs.
Susanoo graced her with a smile so magnanimous it was as if she had offered him the world. "A devotion to your cause. That is something I greatly admire. You may see them," he declared. "Your handmaidens will escort you to their grounds. I have a matter I need to attend to, but tomorrow morning, Miss Hatsui, I shall request your company for breakfast."
A polite enough request, but the order beneath his words was clear and left no room for refusal. Sakura bowed her head in understanding.
The most timid of voices emerged from one of the white-painted staff. "This way, Miss Hatsui-"
"Tsukiko," the false brunette cut in, "No need for formalities."
The young girl (she couldn't have been more than fourteen) turned a terrible beet red reminiscent of a certain Hyuuga, and nodded. "This way...Tsukiko."
Sakura smiled and followed.
While her belongings were sent to her chambers, the servant – she refused to disclose her name, only insisted Sakura refer to her as Nine – led the medic down a wooden staircase that creaked with every step and through a dark tunnel that needed some dire upkeep. The walls dripped with what Sakura hoped was melted snow and not leakage form pipes. The entire floor was submerged in at least an inch if not two of sludge. Thanks for the warning, Susanoo, she thought bitterly as she ignored the cool sensation squishing between her toes.
They reached a pass where the air became a biting cold and Sakura's breath rose before her eyes. A large iron door stood before them and Nine lifted a tiny hand and knocked. From high above, a narrow little slit opened, the iron sliding to the side, and a pair of eyes peered down. "Who dares strike the anvil?"
"A humble hammer of Lord Watatsumi."
The massive door opened slowly, allowing the duo entry.
Once inside, Sakura met the General – Mifune, coated in the plated armor of a samurai, horned helmet tucked beneath an arm – and was quickly updated on his warriors' conditions. It started out as a and cold spread into something far worse.
"It's like nothing I've ever seen before," the man admitted, dark gaze studying the men in the sick bay. Cots were laid out, side by side, filled with pale, almost translucent soldiers. Mifune tore his gaze away. "You must help them." An order.
Sakura nodded once and slid a surgical mask over her face before entering the area.
She simply arrived to introduce herself to the men, but they seemed too disoriented to even notice a presence in the room with them. Grabbing Tsukiko's journals, she began taking note of the conditions: pale, shivering, dilated pupils, cool to the touch, catatonic, hair loss...
Moving from cot to cot, Sakura resisted the urge to use her chakra to search into their bodies – Tsukiko was a civilian, which meant civilian measures must be taken. She could only use her chakra when she was certain she was alone, and even then, it was a risk.
If there was a clock in the room, she would have guessed it had been about an hour since she arrived. Sleep weighed down her eyelids and the medic slipped her – Tsukiko's – journal into her bag, moving for the exit. Her hand reached up to remove the mask about her mouth when a dark figure emerged before her.
"You must be the medic. Hatsui, was it?" The man towered above her in all his plated armor glory. Unlike Mifune's helmet, his bore no horns. "Thank you for coming. This is a serious epidemic. But you must be tired, you've been here for four hours." Four hours! "We appreciate your help," he was pleasant enough, but there was a lack of sincerity in his words, as if he was simply reading them off a scroll. "This fortress can be confusing. Is a handmaid here with you?" He asked as he removed his helmet – pale features, aquiline nose, dark hair, brooding eyes –
"Y-yes," she answered, glad the surgical mask hid her open gape. "Nine was with me." In his gaze she spotted her dark hair and was glad her shock hadn't undone the henge jutsu she barely spared a thought for.
"Good," a nod. "I trust you with these men. Take care of them."
He strode away.
And Sakura watched as Uchiha Sasuke disappeared around the corner.
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author's note
Yep. I'm back. Quite rusty.
I think it'll be a couple of chapters before
I'm back up to my old self and cranking
out far more decent chapters.
This was clipped and to-the-point,
but I hope it wasn't too horrendous.
Review? : )
