Author's Note: Alright, this one comes with some hefty warnings for addiction, relapse, and suicidal thoughts. If these are something you struggle with, please get help! Also, there's a major cliff hanger at the end of the chapter. You've been warned.
Tenzo woke up shivering hard enough to make his teeth ache. He curled tighter, surprised that he hadn't rolled from the couch with the violence of the movement. Peeking an eye open revealed the cool dimness of his bedroom rather than the living room. A breeze blew through the opened window, stirring the black curtains that he normally kept closed. He took a moment to wonder how he'd gotten there, then the pain slammed into him full force. An undignified whimper left his lips, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.
Something cool and damp brushed across the man's forehead. Forcing his eyes open a second time, Tenzo found Sakura running a cloth across his skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman shushed him before the words could form. Tenzo hadn't known what he wanted to say anyway. Another bout of nausea curled his body inward, and he tried to breathe through the sickness. He held it down, clenching his abs so hard that they shook.
Warmth flooded Tenzo's body, temporarily erasing the agony. The edges of his vision softened, then blurred. He blinked several times to clear it, but the halo of green remained. Pressure against Tenzo's shoulders guided him to lie back, then blissful darkness swallowed him.
Murky water surrounded Tenzo as he floated in the lightless room. He should have been frightened, but he couldn't remember why. Cords wrapped his body like snakes. They were normal and familiar, like old friends. Instead, he watched flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the tanks around him with detached curiosity. One had broken open, spilling a puddle of glowing liquid across the floor.
The face gazing at Tenzo from the other side of the glass belonged to a stranger, what little he could see of it. Banadages swathed the man's neck, cheek, and forehead, making his features difficult to discern. Black eyes, as hard as stone, stood out in clarity. Glass shattered with a sickening crunch, and the stranger pulled Tenzo into brilliant light. He went without question, barely noticing how he was inspected like an animal for slaughter. He didn't know enough to feel anything yet.
Tenzo stood in the corner of a room no larger than a closet. The hard cot that he slept on left just enough space for him to get dressed. His body ached in dozens of different places, and his muscles trembled from chakra exhaustion. He'd pushed himself too far again, but Danzo expected results. The mokuton was difficult to master, no matter how much Tenzo focused. He went through the hand signs without chakra, building muscle memory as he ignored the tears on his cheeks.
Loyalty had always been simple: follow Danzo. No one else understood the man's vision of Konoha, but once it came true, they would see that it was for the best. At least, that's what Tenzo had thought, until this mission fell apart. He stared at Kakashi from the corner of his eye, wondering if the man knew that he'd undone years of blind faith simply by existing. Tenzo's ROOT record was pristine, even though only a quarter of his missions made it onto paper. To abandon one was unlike him.
Icy metal bound Tenzo's wrists. He recognized the fear flooding his body and wondered if it would have been wiser to kill Kakashi. Danzo hadn't said what he planned yet, but the men and women that he once considered brothers had dragged him here on the man's command. Fragmented memories added terror to Tenzo's helplessness: cold hands, flashes of green and purple, bone shattering agony, a caress against his neck, and the pinch of a needle.
The images overlapped too quickly for Tenzo to fully grasp the memories. Warm blood sprayed across his cheek, but he couldn't remember if it belonged to him or someone else. Fever hot skin burned his fingers. The scent of infection turned his stomach, but he forced himself to look. Blue eyes met his, filled with fear and pain, but the tiniest sliver of hope brightened them. Death paled them to grey.
Terror clawed at Tenzo, squeezing the breath from his lungs. Kakashi disappeared in a sea of enemies as they were swept apart. Itachi sobbed in the darkness, back toward his teammates. Blood dripped from Tenzo's fingers, puddling on the ground. Torn bodies filled the edges of the room; the scent of cooked flesh was strong enough to gag him. A hand clutched Tenzo's shirt, jerking him backward moments before a kunai sailed through the space where he'd stood.
Warm lips opened to Tenzo's, and a hand tangled in his hair. Kakashi's blood pulsed too quickly through his fingers. Someone screamed, and the voice was almost recognizable. A moment of indecision, then a flash of pink followed by white. Red chakra pulsed, tearing Tenzo's palm open despite his efforts to contain it.
"Hello, Subject 214."
Medicine burned beneath Tenzo's skin. His arms and legs went numb, then chakra slipped beyond his reach. Laughter followed him into darkness. Pulses of red and white tore Tenzo to wakefulness. The taste of vomit corroded his throat. A pitch black room tipped one way, then the other. No one was coming. Tenzo was alone. He'd always been alone, and he would always be alone. A door cracked open, and pale light blinded him as his torturer entered the cell.
Panic, blood, pain. Tenzo couldn't move, couldn't fight back. Something forced his hands against stone, tearing the skin. He screamed as the needle pricked his arm.
Sakura rocked back onto her heels and replaced the cap on the hypodermic. Yamato's flailing slowed, then stopped as the sedative calmed his body's fight or flight response. Exhaling, she caught the man's wrist to measure his heart rate. The number eased back toward normal within minutes. Content that Yamato wasn't about to kill one of them, Sakura guided him onto his back and tucked the blankets against his sides.
After Sakura moved Yamato to bed, he'd slept for a couple of hours before groaning and twisting beneath the blankets. She hadn't worried about it; the sound wasn't unexpected considering the amount of physical pain the man was enduring. Sakura had been debating whether to wake Yamato or let him fight through it on his own when he cried out and stabbed the air. She nearly fell from the bed in her haste to get away. While she wasn't afraid of Yamato, the hallucinations made for a hazardous work environment.
Sakura brushed the area of her neck that Yamato had cut the night before. It proved that he wasn't thinking clearly when the nightmares came. Laying aside the cloth that she'd been using to cool his forehead, Sakura had called Yamato's name several times. When that didn't work, she tried a gentle shake. The actions made no difference, and his flailings grew more pronounced with each passing moment. When the man sat up swinging at phantoms only he could see, Sakura had no choice.
The sedative had worked quickly, as Sakura knew it would. She'd brought the medicine from the hospital, just in case. While she didn't know how frequent the nightmares were, Sakura wanted to be prepared for anything. Aggressive behavior could be part of the detox, though she hoped it wasn't. Yamato had cried out in pain when Sakura injected the medication. She wished she knew if he'd been reacting to something in his nightmare or the pinch of the needle.
Sakura watched Yamato for several minutes to make sure his breathing remained stable, then slipped out of the bedroom. Her stomach grumbled. She'd missed lunch dealing with the chaos of the past couple of hours, and her hunger made itself known. Yamato's sedative should keep him asleep for a couple of hours at least, and maybe as long as six or seven. That gave Sakura more than enough time to make food. She decided on stir fried vegetables and rice because it was easy to throw together and would provide leftovers for a couple days.
Food in hand, Sakura moved back to the couch. The notebook that she'd been using to chronicle Yamato's detox lay open on the table. She picked it up and jotted down a note about the injection strength and medication, then chewed her lower lip. Sakura still wasn't sure that sedating Yamato had been the right choice, but it didn't feel like there wasn't another one. Part of the problem was that withdrawal was uncharted territory for Sakura. She had a handful of notes in scrolls or books, but she was having to learn as she went.
Sakura was no stranger to experimenting with novel solutions to cure medical conditions. It was one of the things that Tsunade had drilled into her from early in their training. Yes, there were methods that worked well, but that didn't mean there couldn't be other, better solutions. Sakura wanted to pour over the information that she'd brought from her office, but there hadn't been enough time. Closing her notes on Yamato, Sakura picked up one of Tsunade's scrolls to see if she could learn anything.
By the time the words started to blur together, Sakura had been reassured that she'd more or less been on the right track. She let the scroll snap shut on itself, rolling back into a tight cylinder. Exhaustion told her to leave the mess of papers and dishes on the table, but it felt impolite to do so in someone else's apartment. Sakura carried the bowl and fork to the kitchen. After finding a couple of containers for the leftovers, she washed everything she'd used and straightened up.
Once everything was in order, Sakura padded back to the bedroom and opened the door. Yamato lay where she'd left him, the sheet tucked around him like a cacoon. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for a couple of seconds, then nodded. The best thing that Sakura could do for either of them was to get some rest for herself. She had at least an hour before Yamato woke, so she could squeeze in a small nap as long as she set an alarm in case he needed her. He'd probably be disoriented after the sedative.
Decision made, Sakura returned to the living room and found the blanket and pillow that Yamato had given her what seemed a lifetime ago. She tossed them onto the couch and flicked the lights off, thankful that the room was pleasantly dark despite the time of day. Exhaling, Sakura curled up under the blanket and started a breathing exercise to relax. She fell asleep before the second repetition.
Tenzo opened his eyes and blinked at the dim room. He struggled to remember where he was and why his arms and legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. The gentle pattering of rain overhead almost recalled a memory, but it slipped from Tenzo's grasp before he could catch it. A soft laugh chased him into consciousness. He found familiar blue eyes peering down at him. "About time you woke up, sleeping beauty."
A warm flush made its way onto Tenzo's cheek when Chiharu pulled back to give him more space. He winced and pushed toward a sitting position. The room spun, and he closed his eyes to make it stop. "Where are we?"
"Kakashi-taicho thought you needed somewhere warm and dry to recover." Chiharu's voice conveyed her easy grin, but Tenzo watched it all the same. The girl pushed fingers through her damp, red hair. "You always were his favorite."
"I am not," Tenzo argued, managing to look around without wanting to vomit. The room was small. A double bed tucked against one wall, and a shoddy, poorly vented fireplace filled the other. Ruddy flames threw long shadows across the floor.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chiharu tucked long legs beneath her. "He would have left me to freeze to death in the rain."
"I wouldn't have let him," Tenzo answered without thinking. He raised one hand to touch the tender area on his left temple. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"A few hours." Chiharu shrugged and held out a glass of water that Tenzo hadn't noticed. The lukewarm liquid washed away the sour taste on his lips. "He's worried about you."
Tenzo wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, then offered the glass back to Chiharu. She took it and watched him with her head tipped to the side, eyes questioning. Tenzo shifted under the scrutiny, then coughed. "Kakashi is always worried about something."
"Because one of you always gives me something to worry about," came a gruff voice from the doorway. Kakashi stepped into the room, silver armor dappled darker by the rain. "How are you feeling?"
Nauseous, dizzy, exhausted, spent, Tenzo thought "Fine," he answered.
Kakashi nodded, giving no indication that he'd heard the lie in Tenzo's answer. "You have an hour, then we're moving."
"Are you okay?" The question fell short, but Tenzo didn't know how to vocalize everything that he wanted to ask.
Chiharu's eyes rose, and suddenly Tenzo wished that he hadn't said anything. The girl's voice shook. "Is it always like that?"
Tenzo recalled the blood dripping in obscene patterns on the floor, followed by the sickening scent of burned flesh and ozone in the air. "Not always," he hedged, doing his best not to lie.
With a laugh that sounded more like a sob, Chiharu threw herself into Tenzo's arms. He caught her awkwardly, unsure what to do with the crying girl. He smoothed a hand down her back and mumbled something about how things would look better in the morning.
The shuffle of footsteps announced someone else in the locker room with them, but Chiharu didn't hear it. Kakashi rounded the corner, and paused mid stride. His eye widened, then creased into an unmistakable smile. He retreated without a backward glance.
Tenzo panted and dropped onto the grass in an artless sprawl. Half a dozen wounds bled on his arms and legs, while his muscles shook with exhaustion. Chiharu flopped beside him with a grin. "I won."
"It wasn't a competition." Tenzo leaned back on his elbows to try and catch his breath.
Chiharu flashed a challenging smirk over one shoulder. "Well, if it had been, I would have won."
Tenzo didn't rise to the bait. He was too tired after their sparring match to do more than squint through the sunlight. "You would have," he agreed.
"Thanks for helping me train." A shadow fell across Tenzo's face and he found himself staring up at Chiharu. She leaned closer, and time stuttered to a halt when she lowered her mouth against his.
Tenzo's first coherent thought was that Chiharu's kiss tasted like the salt from her sweat. Then, a flush spread across his cheeks as she looked away with a shy smile.
Despite the danger of being caught in the barracks, Tenzo and Chiharu's uniforms made an unceremonious pile on the floor. New pieces were joining the pile at a prodigious rate. Even though Tenzo had seen Chiharu get dressed in the locker room before missions, he blushed when she lifted her shirt away from her stomach. She tossed it to the side, then matched Tenzo's nervous grin as she reached toward the button of his pants.
When they stumbled toward the bed, Tenzo tripped over someone's boot and landed awkwardly. Chiharu crashed into his chest with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. She stared at him aghast, but as soon as Tenzo could breathe, she burst into laughter. He joined her, unable to stop himself, and their attempt to silence the sound only made it louder. When the amusement died out, Chiharu captured Tenzo's mouth with hers, and they picked up like they'd never been interrupted.
"I don't want to die." Chiharu's voice sounded small after the cacophony of battle. Her hands slid across the bloody ruins of her stomach until Tenzo caught them in his.
"You're not going to die," Tenzo chided, his voice rose an octave with false hope. Chiharu's blue eyes drifted shut, then popped open when he gave her a shake. "Focus on me. We've got to get you up."
The jarring movement drew a pained hiss from between clenched teeth. Chiharu dug her fingers into Tenzo's arm and collapsed to her knees. Frowning, he scooped her up against his armored chest. Every step he took pulled painful gasps from the woman's throat, but that was better than the fading sound of her voice. He held her closer. "I've got you; just hold on for me."
Sakura opened her eyes in confusion, annoyed at the buzzing noise next to her head. She glared at the alarm for several long seconds, trying to remember where she was and why. It took only a moment; Yamato's apartment wasn't as unfamiliar as it had been. Sitting up, Sakura tossed the blanket to the side and listened. The silence was a good indication that Yamato was still sleeping. Sakura stood and stretched the stiff muscles in her back, then folded the blanket and put it away. Unable to put it off any longer, she walked toward the bedroom.
The tight sheets had come loose at some point, and Yamato lay curled on his side. Standing by the bed, Sakura gazed down at the man. She hoped that he'd found some rest this time, but the damp tracks on his cheeks suggested that he hadn't. Sakura reached forward to wipe the tears away, but stopped short. She didn't want to startle Yamato awake, he'd had enough of that lately. Besides, if she'd been the one crying in her sleep, she wouldn't have wanted someone to draw attention to it.
It was possible that watering eyes was an effect of the withdrawal. The body went through all sorts of crazy things when trying to purge itself of chemical dependence. At least, that's what the books said. Studying Yamato was fascinating and terrifying at the same time. Sakura needed to move her notes to his file at some point, but for now she couldn't risk anyone seeing them. The fact that Yamato had gone through this for two years without someone noticing proved that Konoha's approach to mental health needed an overhaul.
Sakura frowned around the bedroom. Yamato should be waking sooner rather than later, but it could be five minutes or as long as an hour. Coming out of sedation often left patients confused and frightened. In Yamato's current state, Sakura assumed that he would struggle when consciousness returned. She wanted to be there for him, even if the only thing that she could do was restrain him until he snapped out of it. She couldn't let her guard down this time.
The dark golds and purples on the wall suggested that night was rapidly approaching. Sakura turned on the lamp on the opposite nightstand, but Yamato didn't respond. His sweat damp face wasn't as flushed as it had been. Either the bath had helped, or his body was bouncing back quicker than she expected. Sakura had tried medical ninjutsu, but Yamato's chakra had been too wild. She hated that she couldn't flick a switch and fix the problem. The man would have to work through it step by step. It wouldn't be easy, but-
Yamato gasped, eyes snapping open as he jerked into a sitting position. Sakura slid into his line of sight. "Easy. Give yourself a second."
"Wha'ppen?" Yamato closed his mouth and swallowed, undoubtedly clearing the cottony taste of unconsciousness. "What happened?"
It would have been easier if Yamato hadn't realized that anything happened, but Sakura wasn't going to lie to him. He deserved the truth. "You were having a nightmare, and I had to sedate you."
Yamato's mouth pulled into a frown. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked at Sakura. Then, his gaze slid from the crown of her head to her feet, then back again. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Sakura chuckled under her breath, surprised at the relief she felt. "I was too quick for you this time. Do you usually get violent with your nightmares?"
Yamato sagged against the headboard without answering. There was a distant look in his eyes that Sakura hadn't seen before. She wondered if he was afraid to answer, or trying to remember. Either could have been true. Sakura waited until the silence grew uncomfortable. "What did you dream about?"
"I don't remember." Yamato lifted one shoulder in a shrug, but Sakura didn't believe him. Rather than meeting her gaze, he tipped his head up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter."
Humming under her breath, Sakura reminded herself that it was a bad idea to shake her patient. "You know, it won't get better if you don't deal with it," she offered, taking a seat at the end of the bed.
"Are you a shrink now, too?" The frown lines deepened on either side of Yamato's mouth. "You can't fix everything."
Sakura swallowed her snappish response. She knew that she couldn't fix everything. If so, Sasuke would have never left Konoha. He never would have turned into a rogue ninja in the first place, and he wouldn't have returned to that lifestyle after the war. Sakura shoved the memory away; now wasn't the time to deal with it.
Yamato stumbled to his feet as if the conversation had grown too much and paced toward the opposite side of the room. He balled his shaking hands into fists that pressed against his thighs. Sakura didn't move or speak as she listened to the hitch in Yamato's respirations. The change likely came from pain, but she couldn't be sure if it was physical or emotional. The sound disappeared when he turned. "I appreciate your help, but I can handle things from here."
The glimpse of inground stubbornness infuriated Sakura. Shinobi were conditioned to be self-sufficient, especially Anbu. The disaster unfolding before her was the cost of that mentality. Crossing her arms over her chest, Sakura leveled Yamato with her best glare. "Do you honestly think you're fooling me? You're only walking because it hurts less than sitting still. I can look at you and tell-"
"I don't want your help," Yamato ground out. Sakura's mouth dropped open at the man's tone. She'd expected him to match her heated annoyance, but the words were as cold and final as a gravestone.
Sakura exhaled and forced herself to count internally. Yamato's nightmares had likely dredged up things that he didn't want to think about. His anger was palpable, but it wasn't directed at her, at least, not wholly. Sakura understood; she was angry too, at Konoha, at Anbu's leadership, and at herself. So many things could have prevented this, but no one had cared enough to stop it.
The sick feeling in the pit of Sakura's stomach was uncomfortably familiar. The image of Sasuke returned, and she couldn't push it away. When they'd been thirteen, Sakura had begged him to stay in the village. She'd been willing to leave with him if that was all he could offer her. Despite maturing during their years apart, Sakura had still considered throwing her home away to follow him after the war. In the two years since, Sakura had been disabused of her illusions. Sasuke was broken in ways that she couldn't fix. It hurt to think that Yamato might be the same.
Sakura hated watching people that she cared about self-destruct because they were too stubborn to get help. She hated the silence that stretched to the breaking point between herself and Yamato. She hated feeling so helpless, again.
Yamato turned, haunted brown eyes meeting Sakura's. "I don't want or need a babysitter. Just go home, please."
Arguments rose and died in Sakura's throat. The medic in her wanted to ignore Yamato's wishes and keep pushing, but the logical side understood that she couldn't. Shaking her head, she moved to pick up the bottle of pills from the dresser and tossed it at Yamato. He caught them midair.
"Those will help with the detox symptoms, but don't drink and take 8 them at the same time," Sakura advised, turning back toward the living room. "They'll get you through a week, which should be the worst of it. If you're still having problems after that, you can come back to the hospital or T&I for evaluation."
Sakura stopped beside the couch and picked up her bag. She stuffed scrolls and books inside while trying not to be annoyed by the silence. Chewing her lower lip, Sakura continued. "If you want my help, you know where to find me."
When Yamato didn't speak, Sakura turned to find him watching her with one shoulder leaned against the wall. He looked like a stranger again when their gazes met. "What will you tell Kakashi?"
The question brought Sakura up short. Yamato didn't apologize for the sudden change in demeanor or try to soften it. He only wanted to know how Sakura's next move would affect him. She'd never imagined the man would be so selfish and ungrateful.
Sakura huffed out a breath and threw her bag over one shoulder. "I'll tell him some version of the truth, I imagine."
Yamato hummed a non response, and Sakura shook her head. She reached for the door handle, then turned back. Yamato needed her here, needed someone to help him work through the next few days, at least. But, she couldn't help him if he wouldn't let her. She sighed. "Try to take care of yourself, okay?"
If Yamato answered, Sakura never heard it.
As the door closed behind Sakura, Tenzo shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. The sound was louder than it should have been, echoing like a gong. The brilliant agony of the lamp beside the couch rivaled the pain from the vice around his head. With a groan, Tenzo fought with the switch, and when he couldn't get it, pulled the cord loose from the wall in frustration. Everything hurt; pins and needles raced along his skin in neverending, tingling waves.
Sakura had been right about one thing: sitting hurt. Moving around the apartment was marginally better, only because it brought different pains for Tenzo to focus on. Nausea squeezed his stomach with sickening claws, clutching until bile burned the back of his throat. He dropped onto the couch and scratched at his right forearm and wrist. It felt like something was crawling beneath the skin, wriggling just beyond the reach of his fingernails.
Sickness rose in Tenzo's throat, and he scrubbed his mouth with trembling hands. He desperately needed a drink. Just a few swigs of something to take the edge off, something to stop the tremors and ease the nausea in the pit of his stomach. He didn't need to drink a whole bottle, a couple of shots would do the trick, or even a few beers. Tenzo could control it this time by drinking just enough for his symptoms to go away. Nobody had to know.
Huffing out a breath, Tenzo stared at the bottle that Sakura had thrown to him. The name printed on the label meant nothing to him, but she wouldn't have prescribed it unless she thought it was safe. He almost laughed at the absurdity of using a week's worth of new drugs to combat the ones already coursing through his system. The dosage was written clearly on the side, two pills up to four times a day on the first day, then a single one with the same frequency as needed for the next seven days. Tenzo could dump a couple into his palm, chase them with a glass of water, then go back to bed. Or, he could...
Restless energy pulled Tenzo back to his feet. He knew that he should go look for Sakura and apologize, but he didn't know what to say. The woman had no right to stick her nose into his business or try to convince him that he had a problem. What Tenzo had was a well controlled regime, nothing more. Sakura had changed the schedule and caused all these problems in the first place. If she'd just left him alone, everything would be fine.
Swatting at an imaginary bug on his wrist, Tenzo walked into the bedroom. He opened the tiny closet and pulled out a plain grey sweatshirt. His hands were shaking far too much to deal with the button and zipper of jeans, so he left on the sweatpants that he'd worn since his bath. Fumbling his sandals on was easy enough, as was dragging his hood up to hide his features. Content that he was relatively camouflaged, Tenzo stepped out of the apartment.
Even the dim light from the street lamps sent daggers stabbing through Tenzo's eyes. He forced himself to ignore the pain and take one step, then another. Squaring his shoulders and shoving his hands into the pocket of the hoodie, Tenzo pretended to be someone that he wasn't. No one would expect to see him stumbling around like a drunk with or without his uniform, so nobody would. People were easy to fool.
The closest bottle shop was two streets over. There were five in the neighborhood, and Tenzo had visited them all. He spaced the trips out to avoid suspicion, sometimes shopping even further away from home. Tonight, Tenzo didn't have time for that. When the familiar neon sign came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief. A drink would set all his problems right. The shaking would stop, the headache would ease, and the memories would go back to the darkness where they belonged.
A radio thrummed in the background when Tenzo stepped into the establishment. Dozens of glittering bottles tried to capture his attention, but he wasn't picky. Tenzo selected a bottle of whiskey at random, a taste that Kakashi had instilled in him long before either of them were legally old enough to drink. He considered reaching for a second, then stopped himself. Tenzo didn't plan to get drunk, he just wanted to keep himself from spiraling deeper into the detox. Adjusting his hood a second time, he made his way to the counter.
The shopkeeper ran an appraising eye over his customer until Tenzo laid money on the polished countertop. The man undoubtedly recognized the tremble in the outstretched hand as more than a chill, but he didn't draw attention to it. He counted the money, dropped it into a box under the counter, then slid the whiskey into a nondescript paper bag. Tenzo nodded his thanks, both for the service and the lack of questions.
Stepping back into the night, Tenzo clutched the bottle. Having the alcohol in hand eased some of the tension in his shoulders. A couple of drinks would make everything better—
"Oh, you clearly don't have a problem." Tenzo spun toward the annoyingly familiar voice, nearly falling from the suddenness of the movement. The street lamps bobbled like angry fireflies, flicking in and out of existence when he blinked. Sakura stood in the shadows between two buildings, arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't last an hour."
Tenzo stalked three steps toward the woman, anger vibrating through him. "So, what? You're stalking me now? I told you I didn't want your help."
"You need it, even if you don't want it." Sakura drew herself up in preparation for an argument, pushing away from the wall.
Tenzo met the woman glare for glare. "Why is it any of your damn business? I didn't ask for this crusade of yours. That might be what Sasuke got off on, but I don't—"
An open palmed slap snapped Tenzo's head to the side. He tightened his hand around the neck of the bottle to keep from dropping it. The idea of wasting a single drop of the precious liquid almost reduced him to tears. Once the alcohol was secure, Tenzo opened his mouth to test that his jaw still worked. It ached sharp enough that he'd have a bruise tomorrow, but that hardly mattered.
Tenzo turned back to Sakura. Anger rolled off of the woman like storm clouds, but he'd faced worse. "You don't know anything about Sasuke," Sakura spat.
"And, you don't know anything about me," Tenzo countered, voice hardening on the words. The pulsing behind his eyes made it hard to think of a coherent argument. "I'm not some project you can pick up in your spare time like community service or whatever the fuck this is supposed to be."
For a stunned moment, Sakura didn't speak. She'd probably never heard Tenzo curse, or imagined that he would. He hated that Sakura had seen so many things that he normally hid. When the woman spoke, her voice was barely audible. "I was trying to help a friend."
"And, I told you I don't want your help." Tenzo pushed the bag lower so he could spin the cap off the whiskey. After shaping the paper around the neck, he flipped the cap toward a trash bin near Sakura. Tenzo missed by a decent margin, then nodded toward Sakura and raised the bottle. "Cheers."
The first taste of whiskey burned down Tenzo's throat, temporarily blotting out the misery of the rest of his night. His hands felt steadier. After making an ass of himself with Sakura, Tenzo retreated to his apartment to escape from the world. He'd damaged the woman's image of him, possibly to the point of no repair. And tomorrow, she would return the favor by doing the same thing with one of the few people who actually cared about Tenzo. Hell, Sakura might be on her way to tell Kakashi right now.
Tenzo held no illusions. Sakura would have to report her findings to his superior. Since Tenzo ran Anbu, the woman's only choice was to go to the Hokage. Tenzo wondered if Kakashi would be surprised, or if he had expected it all along. Probably the former, Tenzo decided. Kakashi tended to wear blinders for anyone too close to him, giving them more leeway than they deserved. The man hadn't wanted to see Tenzo falling apart when Sakura pointed it out the first time, and he wouldn't want to now.
The real question was whether or not Sakura would wait until the morning, giving Tenzo one last night to get well and truly wasted. He carried the bottle to the bedroom without getting a glass, the earlier promise to only have a few drinks forgotten. Throwing himself onto the bed, Tenzo tipped the bottle to the ceiling. Within minutes, the flood of alcohol into his system reduced Tenzo's headache enough to think coherently. Of course, that only made him feel worse.
"Kakashi doesn't care about you." Tenzo turned, searching for the familiar face. He waited for the shadows to coalesce, then threw a punch with his left hand. The woman's body disappeared like mists with the rising sun. He was alone; he'd always been alone.
Chuckling, Tenzo turned up the bottle again, laughing at the irony of the person who knew him best missing the symptoms of a relapse. Kakashi had his own life, and more than his share of problems since becoming Hokage. But, he'd promised to always look out for Tenzo since their stint in Anbu. Once upon a time, they'd been two broken boys trying to put themselves together. They'd grown into men who were content to look the other way, only seeing what they wanted to see.
Honestly, Tenzo didn't begrudge Kakashi his ability to compartmentalize his life. The man wanted to believe that Tenzo was infallible, above reproach. And so, in his eyes, Tenzo was. Countless times over the years, Kakashi had brushed aside worries about Tenzo as problems for another day. He'd done it with Sakura's findings, too. The woman had seen the pieces objectively when Kakashi hadn't been ready to admit it. Now, Sakura knew the truth.
"For all the fucking good it does," Tenzo growled, gulping down another mouthful of whiskey. His tongue had gone numb from the burn of the alcohol, but he hardly noticed. He'd thought that drinking would make him feel better. In some ways, it had. The physical pain had eased to an almost bearable pressure that throbbed along with his heartbeat. The silent darkness of his bedroom offered further relief after the chaotic light and noise of the street. The ache behind Tenzo's ribs remained unchanged, however.
Swallowing down another drink, Tenzo sank backward onto the pillows and closed his eyes. "I thought you were better than this," a soft, sad voice whispered. "You were the best of them."
Chiharu's voice sounded as clear as ever, but Tenzo didn't search for her. Chiharu was gone. He hadn't thought about the woman in a long time, but the sound of Chiharu's laughter haunted the apartment that she'd never set foot in. Tenzo sat with the memory, let the distant waves of grief and agony wash over him. Kami, they'd been so young, younger even than Sakura was now. In those days, Anbu was filled with kids, most of them orphans with something to prove.
Chiharu had been different, with her hair like fire and eyes of ice. She wasn't an orphan. Chiharu had a family, a mother who constantly worried about how the shinobi life would affect her youngest daughter. The girl had tried to shield her family from the black ops as much as possible; they had no idea how deep into the organization she'd advanced. Tenzo met Chiharu's mother once, one of the girl's whims relatively early in their friendship. Until that night, Tenzo hadn't realized that she had a home and family, people who cared whether she lived or died. The meeting left him feeling cheated, but he didn't know why. He understood it better now.
Tenzo struggled through the recollection, trying to remember if that had been the night of their first kiss. The memories had grown fuzzy with the passage of time, but he could still recall the feel of her lips against his. Nothing that Tenzo could drink would erase that. Rolling his neck to the side, he relished in the audible release of pressure that it brought. Chiharu had always teased him about the popping joints, calling him an old man even though he was only a few months older than her.
Despite the hours of rest that Tenzo had gotten with Sakura's sedative, sleep tugged at the back of his mind. The alcohol softened the roaring blood in his ears and numbed the pain in his body. The bed was warm and inviting, and, if his body still fought a fever, the heat from the alcohol made it unremarkable. He nestled further back—Screams tore Tenzo's throat. His body jerked and twitched. A hand smoothed his brow. Pain shot through the veins in his neck, then he was pulled deeper into darkness. The decaying scent of plants was overwhelming, swallowing him, suffocating him.
Tenzo jerked upright, throwing off the tempting fetters of sleep. The thoughts of Chiharu and the fear of the dark were old friends of his. He'd dealt with the latter since the end of the war in one form or another. Before Tenzo could stop it, his heart rate sped. His past was riddled with things that he didn't want to think about. The good memories were too small and too distant, separated by gulfs of pain. Tenzo envied Sakura for her youthful optimism, her belief that problems could be easily fixed. Chiharu had been the same way, right up to the end.
Regrets washed over Tenzo like an unrelenting tide, dragging him under. Another gulp of alcohol sharpened the images. He'd been half in love with Chiharu, but he'd been too young to recognize it. They were Anbu agents, soldiers as likely to be ripped apart by death as reassignment. The concept of love didn't factor into a world like that.
"Are you angry with me?" Chiharu's hushed voice made Tenzo's stomach tighten, but he kept his breathing steady. The woman nudged his ribs with an elbow. "I can tell when you're pretending to sleep."
Sighing, Tenzo sat up. Chiharu pulled away from his chest; she'd fallen asleep there late last night instead of returning to her room. Tenzo rubbed his eyes and smiled tiredly. "You know, one day, someone is going to find you here when you shouldn't be."
"Are you implying that there's a time when I'm supposed to be in the boy's barracks?" Chiharau laughed, light and airy, as she pushed her hair away from her face.
Snorting under his breath, Tenzo reached for the stretchy black shirt of his uniform. It was jumbled with the rest of their clothing on his side of the bed. The cot barely fit Tenzo, but he and Chiharu made it work in a tangle of arms and legs. He pulled the garment over his head and rolled his eyes. "You know that isn't what I meant."
"As if Kakashi would ever write you up," Chiharu teased, gathering her red curls into a loose tail at the base of her neck, then securing it with a tie. "You're his golden boy."
Tenzo offered Chiharu her vest after sorting through their clothing to find his pants. "We don't just answer to Kakashi," he pointed out.
Silence met Tenzo's statement, and he turned to find Chiharu holding the armor without speaking. Despite her teasing, the woman had pulled on her shirt before falling asleep because there was a high chance that someone would walk in on them one day. The modesty was endearing.
Tenzo touched Chiharu's shoulder. "Do you hate it that much?"
It was difficult for Tenzo to not take the silence or the frown personally. He had a hard time separating himself from the uniform that he wore. Chiharu adjusted her flak vest, fastening, then retightening the straps. Tenzo reached out, and she tipped her head toward his hand. The warmth of one cheek brushed his fingers before she pulled away. "This is my last mission."
"I thought we were going to talk about it," Tenzo forced the words around the lump in his throat and fell back into bed.
Chiharu sighed and paused in the middle of tightening her sandals. "You were going to talk about it; I'd already made up my mind."
Betrayal twisted through Tenzo's chest, hot and sudden. He tried to think of something witty or intelligent to say, but the words wouldn't form. He swallowed again. "When were you going to tell me?"
"Right now?" Chiharu's soft laughter didn't match the tension in her shoulders. "After it was over?"
"Or, when you just stopped showing up one day?" Anger spiked through Tenzo's chest, and he clenched his jaw. Gathering the remainder of his armor under one arm, he shrugged. "It's probably better that way, right? A nice, clean break, no messy entanglements after it's all said and done."
Chiharu whispered Tenzo's name and tried to catch his arm, but he shrugged off her touch. "It's fine, we have a mission to get ready for."
Tenzo chased the memory with a flood of whiskey that spilled from the corner of his mouth. He'd been angry at Chiharu for not staying in Anbu, for not telling him that she planned to leave so soon. He'd pushed her away for hurting him, for making him look like a fool for thinking they were something that they weren't. He'd ignored her efforts to make amends out of stupid, youthful stubborness.
Pain and regret filled Tenzo's chest, squeezing until drawing breath brought physical pain. He thumped the bottle onto the nightstand, almost dropping it. Chiharu was one of those memories that Tenzo shied away from whenever it rose. Somehow, the expression on Sakura's face when she'd slapped him tonight had dragged it back to the surface.
Just another person trying to help me, and I threw it back in her face. Tenzo recalled the anger that flashed through Sakura's eyes when he'd mentioned Sasuke. He'd been out of line, but he could no more recall the words that he'd said than he could undrink the alcohol that he'd ingested. Nearly everyone in the village knew of Sasuke and Sakura's past and the sacrifices that she'd made for him. The woman had put herself and her reputation on the line for Sasuke time after time, but it hadn't been enough.
"You failed, again." Tenzo didn't respond to the words because he wasn't sure who they referred to. Chiharu, Kakashi, Sakura, himself? He'd failed them all.
Sakura was the most recent in a string of failures that stretched back years. Tenzo wasn't sure why he'd pushed her away so thoroughly. The medic inside Sakura wanted to save him, but he wasn't ready to be saved. He didn't need therapy and hand holding to get better. He wanted to forget everything, to wipe the slate of all the things that he'd screwed up. No matter how many times Tenzo tried to do better, he always ended up in the same place.
Shame followed on the heels of regret. Tenzo should be better than this; he should have worked through these issues by now. Anbu needed a strong leader, not a washed up failure. The men and women who put their lives at risk day in and out for Konoha were adrift because he'd been stupid enough to get caught. Sai was probably leading the organization in Tenzo's absence, and he'd do alright, but he was painfully young. Which meant, the responsibilities would fall on Kakashi, who lacked both the time and drive to run Anbu.
Tenzo's screw ups were hurting the people that he cared about, or they would soon enough. Sakura was furious at the low blow that he'd dealt and upset that he'd thrown away her hard work over the past couple of days. Tenzo couldn't blame her. And, Kakashi would feel the same way when she told him. In twelve hours or less, Tenzo's carefully constructed lies would come crashing down around him, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Taking another swallow of whiskey, Tenzo peeled the paper away from the bottle. He'd drank more than he intended, enough to make the room spin, but it didn't stop the ache. Under the influence, his problems felt more suffocating. He wished that he didn't break everything that he touched. He hadn't told Chiharu how he felt, he hadn't cleaned up as much as everyone believed, he'd been captured during the war and used against Konoha, he'd ruined one friendship tonight, and tomorrow he'd lose another.
Kakashi and Sakrua were better without Tenzo in their lives. Chiharu would have been too, but it was too late for those regrets. Anbu would flourish under more stable leadership. Saiyo would get the help that she needed through Sakura's new program instead of perpetuating the cycle of drinking to forget. Hell, Konoha would be more secure without the threat of Tenzo being captured and having the mokuton used against it. So many things would be better if he simply disappeared.
Blurry eyes settled on the bottle of pills that Sakura had left. Half a dozen warnings crawled up the side, the most prominent listing the dangers of drinking alcohol. Ignoring that, Tenzo skimmed the side effects. He would welcome the drowsiness since the whiskey hadn't knocked him out. Obviously, the medication was some type of sedative, something to quell the anxiety from withdrawal. Popping off the top, Tenzo swirled the pills around. Two of them promised a temporary reprieve from the pain that he felt. More would let him painlessly slip into a longer sleep.
Giddiness swam in the pit of Tenzo's stomach, half from the alcohol and half from the thought of escape. He took another drink, toying with the medicine. It would be so easy to end the pain. The guilt, shame, and fear could become things of the past. He probably wouldn't feel it; he'd drift off, and that would be the end of it. It would look accidental, a mistake made in his drunken state.
Running his tongue across suddenly dry lips, Tenzo placed the whiskey on the nightstand and blinked at the bottle. Then, he dumped the pills into his palm.