Chapter 23
Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy~
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's affiliates.
This fiction will contain dark, adult themes. If that makes you uncomfortable, do not continue reading.
M
NSFW
You Are My Fate
Present, pt 11
Kiss of Death
"Time of death, 12:01."
A muted silence permeated the room. It stuck to her each time, like an angry cloud sifted through the vents to cling to each decision she made up until this point. The surgery was risky, the parents understood there was a chance something could go wrong. In late-stage cancer such as this, the patient's oncologist requested Sakura complete the surgery. Each night she devoured the scans, ate away at the process of removing several tumors so close to the spinal cord.
The surgery was completed before. It wasn't unheard of. It was the final step to prolong this child's life for a couple of more years. The eerie, monotonous tone of the heartrate monitor sank her stomach into congealed jelly. After years in this profession, it never became easier. After three grueling hours of work, Sakura lost her. Her patient was braindead, and now it would be her responsibility to notify the parents that their baby was gone.
Shucking off her gloves, Sakura took one final glance at the child – a kid, of all things. Why she chose to get into pediatric surgery was beyond her. Her background in trauma surgery should prepare her for these moments, but her heart lamented for children. It broke her.
"Please close her up for me, I need to notify her parents."
Sakura slammed the door to her office shut. Those familiar headaches were back, threatening to pound at the forefront of her head. "It's my fault," she murmured to herself, a dawn of realization pressing her. She dutifully read her colleague's medical journals about this specific tumor. Months of planning. The poor girl was put through copious amounts of chemotherapy just so she could see the date of the surgery.
These past few months dealing with Sasuke, the move, the bombing, wrapping herself into Madara and the clan – it left her no time to focus on her work. She paced around the room, thoughts ballooning her failures. If she spent more time studying the surgery, if she dedicated more hours reading on what could possibly go wrong so she could fix it.
Then that little girl would be alive.
The howl of a mother losing her child still clamored in her skull.
Her phone started to loudly vibrate against her desk.
Sakura fell into her chair, purposely ignoring the call from Madara.
Palms pressed to her eyelids; she couldn't help but feel partially at fault. The odds of a successful surgery were only ten percent, but if she wasn't so involved with this new life of hers – then maybe there would have been a different outcome. Her eyes burned; body saddled with guilt.
"You cannot live your life within the hospital on the what ifs! If you know you did your best, then you move on and work harder to become a better surgeon for your next patient."
After losing her first patient as in intern years ago, Sakura nearly ran from the OR. In her first year of interning, an old man that came into the ER after falling down some stairs, she had done everything she could to save him. To no avail, she failed. Her shishou caught her hiding in the supply closet - a sniveling, quivering, bawling mess. It was the loving hand to her head that brought her back to reality.
"I can't keep doing this." A voice, her voice whispered out loud. The journal, the Uchiha, the violence. It was too much. She didn't do her best. Instead, she focused on her life – on the Uchiha to the point where she was vividly hallucinating a world that didn't exist. "God, I'm losing it," she half-said to herself.
A polite knock rapped on her door.
Annoyance bristled within her, if it was anyone related to the Uchiha clan – she would kick them out.
Today she needed to be with herself, just for today.
"Come in," she echoed, quietly gathering herself.
The last face she was expecting was that of Yato running inside her office – nearly launching himself over her desk. Unsuspecting, she almost dropped him when he landed in her arms, "Sak-u-ra-san!"
"Yato!" his mother Izeal walked into the room, clearly exasperated by her son's antics, "what have I told you about behaving? You can't run into a doctor's office like this."
The child sank, shyly apologizing before falling into the hug, "my Mama said we could come visit you today!"
Sakura would be a liar to say that his childlike happiness wasn't infectious. Though, the surprise to see their familiar faces didn't go unnoticed by Izeal. "How nice of you both, how have you been feeling? Everything has been ok, right?" she brushed his silvery-white bangs from his face, roaming over him to make sure everything was ok. He was cleared the same day of the bombing, but just the thought of the events that occurred that day still made her palms sweat.
Yato nodded happily, rapid fire describing his day in detail to her. It was his mother that gave a subtle sigh, gearing up to ask her something, "uhm…I know I have no reason to ask anything more of you after what happened, but—" she looked at her child, lips pursed, clearly hesitant to speak about whatever was going on in front of him.
The doctor curiously tilted her head, noticing that Izeal's face was pale. Her hesitancy to discuss this in front of her son piqued Sakura's next question, "Would you like to have lunch sometime and discuss what's going on?"
Izeal gave a reluctant, shuddering breath, "I would be so grateful, Dr. Haruno."
On her lunch break, Sakura patiently waited for Yato's mother to return. The betterment of her curiosity made her wonder what could possibly be going on. As a medical practitioner she knew that there was a possibility something could be wrong with him, but it made her wonder why Izeal sought her out directly.
Her salad remained untouched when Izeal walked through the oak doors once more, sans her son. "Thank you so much for meeting me again," she said, making her way to the seat in front of her chair to sit herself down, hands wrung tightly in her lap.
"Of course!" Sakura chimed, parading a faux happiness. The death of her patient earlier in the day clung to her like a second skin. "Is everything ok with Yato?"
Izeal kept her focus on her hands, for a woman that Sakura imagined controlled a court room with a strong demeanor, something was clearly wrong for her to be this timid, "I don't know how to explain what's going on, and I don't want to seem like an unfit mother."
"The fact that you care makes you a fit mother, so please – there's no judgement here, I promise." Sakura softened her voice, like a bath with rose petals, it was sweet enough to calm the woman down.
"Yato…Has been having – visions?...Dreams? Almost like hallucinations. I'm not sure what to call them. It's all he talks about ever since the day of the…bombing. It's all he dreams about." A pause to coherently string together her concerns, "it's like the bombing was a catalyst for his imagination. There's an entire world he talks about in vivid detail. Sometimes I'll be speaking with him, and he suddenly stares off, completely forgetting what we were previously talking about."
Sakura was about to interrupt when she continued, "and I know what you might say – I've already taken him to a therapist and a psychiatrist. Several of them. They all claim that kids his age have an active imagination, but this is something entirely different. I feel like an overprotective mother, but I know something is wrong."
"Maybe-"
Izeal began to ramble, as if she hoarded these thoughts for the last few months until this moment, "the oddest part is that when he has these visions, he claims he sees you! In nearly all his drawings and when he explains things to me, you're in all of them. The therapist told me it could be a way his brain is coping with the trauma since you were there with him, but he's never sad – he never brings up the bombing specifically. Only this...world."
A deep, putrid fear made goosebumps assault her skin, "by any chance, has he been having headaches?"
Izeal apparently paled, lips a thin line.
Sakura didn't want to know the answer.
She wanted to leave the room.
"Yes." Izeal implored Sakura's face for an answer, searching for the truth in what could possibly be wrong with her son, "-they're minor, but they started shortly after the bombing. They made him take a CT scan, everything showed up perfectly normal. I really don't know what could be wrong with him."
It would be bold of her to assume that this had any correlation with everything she was experiencing, "if you don't mind me asking, what is this world like?" For her own morbid curiosity, she needed to know.
Izeal chewed on the multitude of tales her son told her, "It's a place I've never heard of. He claims he has a big family, there's a bunch of forests – and he claims that he's a warrior. It's always a different aspect of this world, but none it really makes sense. It's like he's stitching together different ideas from different books. Why? Should I be worried?"
A quiet, gentle laughed escaped her, "no, no! I'm sure he's fine. I've been suffering from some headaches since the incident as well. I'm not trained in the study of psychology, but I do know that our brains cope in different ways. I'm sure he's told you, but we both witnessed…Things that we shouldn't have."
The inability to speak on behalf of the Uchiha chained her words, she could never implicate them in the incident, "I tried to protect him from seeing it, but the Yakuza members found us in that alley. I wake up from nightmares thinking about it often times myself."
The kind woman visibly stilled, not an echo of her breathing between them. Sakura continued, "I don't want to act on behalf of a profession I didn't study in. I'm sorry to say I can't give him an official diagnosis - but I could possibly speak with him about what happened that day so he can stop coping by escaping into this world. Since I was there, maybe that will help him."
This would be the second time the woman bowed low to her, causing Sakura to stand up in a flush – hands beseeching her to stop, "please, please – Ma'am! Don't do that."
When she stood up, tears pricked her vision, "thank you so much Dr. Haruno, you don't know how worried I've been about him. He's had an awful life until we adopted him, I just don't want him to suffer anymore." Gentle fingers brushed away the stray tears.
By the time Izeal left, Sakura stood by her office window – thoroughly exhausted even though it was barely noon. Staring out at her home city of Kyoto, Sakura let the sun press its warmth against her face. Once upon a time, she romanticized this world. Truly, she believed she could make a difference, change the lives of the people within her community. So then why was she ok with allowing herself to fall into the hell pit of the Uchiha. Why was she ok knowing that her first love and current lover dealt a hand in the trauma that was caused to a young boy that day?
The eerie sound of a man's jaw breaking – how she reveled in vengeance because they threatened to harm her. How could she forget Yato was there, too? He witnessed the bombing, the men hurting her – then Madara and his men killing them.
Maybe the fictitious world of the past was part of her journey to heal, part of her coping mechanisms.
The authenticity of that world felt so real. Her past self-felt so real. Her brain healing would never describe her signature in the journal, it would never describe the scent of the fresh air without the city's smog or the way the shadows loomed in a waltzing dance at the marriage ceremony. It would never describe the puzzle pieces of the painting - how it all converged to make perfect sense. Could this be tricks of her mind due to stress? Could it be the high fantasy books she grew up reading? Mingled with her rich love for history. It proved to make her headache worse, her blood pulsing in her eardrums.
Her phone rang again, disrupting her day.
She ignored it.
It was nearing dusk when Sakura left the hospital. In no particular hurry to make it home, she allowed herself to appreciate the city on the horizon of the weekend. Madara invited her to accompany him to the charity dinner for her hospital tonight. The event perked her happiness for the entire week leading up to this morning. Now she had to think about the patient she lost while sitting amongst a crowd of a hundred with one of the most enigmatic men in the city.
It would be too many faux smiles. Too many false words with underlying motives. All eyes would be on them.
A pulse in her temple threatened her, begging her to stay in.
She still had a few hours before she needed to put on a presentable face. A sense of sonder overcame her as she meandered past the hundreds of faces of the other people within the city.
Her home was beginning to feel foreign to her.
Her heart would always be here. It would always be with her friends, family, Sasuke and now Madara. Maybe it was because she hadn't seen Naruto in so long. The last time they spoke was right after her fight with Sasuke. She didn't try to, but she was giving him the cold shoulder too. His bright demeanor would blind her right now. If she told him a fraction of what she went through in the past few months beyond her incident with his best friend, he would whisk her away to live with him and Hinata.
Plus, she didn't need him warning her about Madara.
She was smart enough to know how dangerous he was.
How he was a murderer.
How he enjoyed killing.
How he dealt drugs.
How she loved him.
Sakura stood in the middle of a busy street, a battalion of lights adorning the city around her. The hundreds of voices, dozens of sounds, light conversations synchronized into a white noise that she learned to love long ago. Except now, her chest felt tight. This realization wasn't new, it didn't startle her – it was sitting there as a gentle reminder. Since the night of the gala, he slowly consumed her life. Infiltrated her open heart, just as he did in the past. The journal clearly spelled it out for her, how could she deny all the evidence presented towards her? Still - the intellectual, scientifically motivated portion of her brain couldn't understand it all.
The low chatter of the people around her served to remind her that she was only one face in this heart of the city, she looked around – trying to think of the world she witnessed. Compared to the brilliance of nature, the city contrasted heavily with her past life. The sweeping sounds, overwhelming lights, the lure of dark romanticism in the bustling streets of Kyoto fed her wanderlust for her entire life.
Checking the time, Sakura paled at how much time she wasted in her own thoughts.
It wasn't until someone bumped into her shoulder that she continued, her head of pink bright amongst a sea of black.
Through a window above the city, dark eyes watched the doctor leave for her apartment.
"She's leaving for the train station. She'll be nearing the target spot in two minutes," a sleazy voice sounded over the radio.
"You think boss will care?" the voice on the other side questioned, hesitant in their next move.
"He knows she belongs to the Uchiha, he'll be grateful. Besides, those fucks killed Jiro after the bombing! You think I'm going to let them forget that?"
On this eve, where twilight washed over the city – Sakura ran towards the station. She would be home soon, it would take her only a moment to get ready, but what she didn't expect was to breeze by a corner near a dango stall, completely unaware of her surroundings.
"Grab her, now!"
A large hand grabbed the back of her hair and yanked her into an alleyway. Sakura's eyes bulged when her body got flung to the floor. Before she could see a face, a strange man put a piece of cloth over her mouth. She screamed, loud. A terrified, horrific scream that ripped her vocal cords.
The cloth swallowed her scream, the male grabbed her to hold her still. She fought, fought as hard as she could, trying not to breath in the thick scent of chemicals. Like a mad feline, she clawed at the large arms - punching, flailing, and screaming until her vision ebbed black.
The last thing she remembered as her eyes fluttered back was the full moon reaching out wanting to help. The man tossed her purse to the side, checking her pockets to make sure her phone was discarded. He stomped on it twice, knowing foreboding anyone from tracking her.
Without a single witness, he left with the Uchiha's broad.
Mirago Lounge
If fury were a man, that man would be Madara Uchiha.
If fury had a weapon, that weapon would be his clan.
The devil wouldn't compare to the wrath this man held for the yakuza. "Those fucking rats," he seethed, "I will kill every one of them. I will tear their families apart, kill their mothers, and let them watch as I put all of them in jail." He couldn't sit down, couldn't stand up – he could only envision the different ways he would torture them.
Where one might think the rest of his brothers would be calm, that would be false. In the past few months, Sakura kindled a relationship within the inner circle of Uchiha men. She had a genuine ability to brighten each of their days. Each of his men were toeing the same dangerous thoughts, loathing themselves for their irresponsibility and the yakuza for taking one of their own.
The violence within him was innate, it was a feral demon. As if Cerberus' chains were broken - Madara would use every resource, connive every torment, douse himself in the blood of any subhuman that touched her.
It was a dig at him, it was a dig at his clan – they took what belonged to him, and he didn't take kindly to his things being touched.
All men were in the room, bristling with unkept anger. Their fingers twitched at the thought of killing their adversary, of wiping the world of those rats that could only dream of comparing to them.
Sasuke sat on a chair, unmoving, unflinching as his clan leader's words sharpened the knife in his mind. "Who was supposed to follow her today?" he demanded, voice quivering with anger. His fist clenched at his side, ready to hurt whoever let this happen.
Itachi cleared his throat, "you were."
"Excuse me?"
"You were," he repeated calmly, "you were dealing with the corporate district today. After she got off you were supposed to go to the hospital and follow her home. I'm assuming you forgot." Itachi remained passive. He loved Sakura like a sister, known her since his brother's trio formed in grade school – so he held the responsibility where it should be.
Madara looked over his shoulder at his younger cousin, "why weren't you there, Sasuke?"
Like a lion being cornered by hunters, he lashed out, "nobody told me."
Shisui shook his head, "yes, I did. I gave you clear orders this morning. Deal with the corporate office in district four then make sure Sakura-chan gets home."
All dark eyes were on him now. His brothers, the same men that would die for him. All in tune with the same anger and disappointment that suffocated the room. Sasuke sifted through his memory to remember the conversation. It came to him like a stone being thrown into a pond, it doused him in a sick reality, "…you did."
Their clean leader faced him, "you know that since we opened the ports, we have daggers at our back-" his words were slow, calculating, "you know that those sleazy vermin will do anything to cling to the little power they have left. Their factions are turning on each other, they're killing each other. They know that they need to do whatever they can to harm us. They also know Sakura belongs to us. So, Sasuke-kun," Madara paused, a feral – insane tilt of his lips made all the men shift in the room, ready to step in between them, "please tell me how you forgot?"
Sasuke darted his glance between his brother and clan leader, Itachi kept the same level gaze, refusing to help him. Instead of cowering, or lashing out in anger, Sasuke steeled himself, "I don't know. I was focused on having things run smoothly there. I thought someone else would watch over her. I messed up." His voice remained calm, hardly stumbling over his words to explain himself.
Though if you knew him, you could see the cold panic tremble on his skin. Sakura was still part of his life; she was one of the few people he let in.
Which is why Madara snapped, "if anything happens to her, you're dead. Do you understand?"
The cardinal rules within their clan spoke on behalf of their honor. Simple mistakes were not forgiven. There needed to be diligent in running the clan. One of their own was taken because of him. If Madara said so, Sasuke would be excommunicated from the clan – his tattoos stripped of him. Their dignity was spat on, "due to your negligence – you better prey she comes back alive."
No one spoke up, all still reeling from the fact that they could not find her.
An unsettled silence pressed on them until Izuna spoke up, "as someone who isn't in love with our pink haired counterpart, we need to figure this out rationally. When we went to the place where her tracker last sent a message, we found her purse and phone. Looking in it, we also found this."
Izuna flashed Tobirama's detective card in his fingers.
Madara eyed the card, throttled by the news, "when did he speak with her?"
His brother shrugged, "I don't know, we just found it in her purse. I won't go as far to assume she's said anything, but considering this is relevant news, I can guess she didn't say anything to you."
Madara chewed on this new information presented to him, "I can't worry about that now. We need to find her."
"So by that you mean you're going to sweep this under the rug? She knows everything about us except for the deal with the Columbians and guns. If she speaks to that fucking Senju rat, we can easily be indicted. I don't care what kind of cunt she has that has you and Sasuke fighting in the pit for, but I wouldn't trust her so eas—"
"She won't say anything," Sasuke stood up – gearing towards his cousin, "don't talk about her like that."
"Izuna!" Madara snapped, his rage brimming in his scarlet eyes. "Speak about her like that and I'll break your fucking fingers-"
The tension in the room was palpable, you could use the energy to ignite a fire. Shisui stepped up, "let's calm down," he said, ever the peacemaker for his hot-headed cousins. He stepped between his feuding family members, "Sakura-chan has no reason to say anything. She's trustworthy. I'm sure Tobirama met with her at some point to grab dirt on Madara, like he has for the past five years."
It made sense to them all now why he was able to greet her so freely at the casino.
The second in command shook his head, flicking the card onto the table, "I like her too," he paused, he was no liar, "…sometimes. I find it hard to believe that two of my brothers have fallen in love with her, but to each their own. As right hand to my brother, I think it's necessary to not be so trusting."
Shisui cut in, "We can discuss that later. Right now, we need to call in more of our brothers that are away so we can have reinforcements. Madara barely recovered from being shot. Now they took Sakura-chan. They're targeting us for a reason."
Madara tapped his finger impatiently on the table, the noise getting louder and louder until he punched the oak, nearly splintering his knuckles. He didn't take kindly to being a pushover, "Shisui, make the calls to Obito and the rest of the clan." He grabbed his coat from the chair, "Sasuke, you're coming with me."
Like a true leader, he pointed to the rest of them, "while we go and search for Sakura on the ground – I want every connection we have utilized to find her. Itachi, call Inabi so we can use the police's resources. She's in this city, those fucking Yakuza have nowhere else to go."
They left, leaving the rest of his men to help find her.
Within him, there was an energy that eclipsed them both. He never spoke on it, but it was an invisible tether that connected them. He sensed her before she came into the room, he knew her shadows, sometimes her thoughts. It was an energy that pressed against him, like a siren beached on misty rocks – he wanted nothing more than to crash his ship into her lure. When that inkling left him hollow, that's when he would tear this city apart.
Ever since the night of the Gala, her ray beamed at him – something he would never let anyone take away from him.
Never again.
As if they were tied together for several lifetimes.
Darkness.
A damp, cold darkness perpetuated her senses. It clung to her bones, ripening her skin with goosebumps. Gagged and blindfolded, Sakura woke up to her skull throbbing, like a barrage of trumpets were in a symphony between her ears. Nausea congealed her stomach, quenching and churning due to her fear and whatever they drugged her with.
Too dazed to whimper, Sakura regulated her breathing through her nose. In an attempt to get ahold of her surroundings, she strained to listen. Muffled voices were in the distance, low deep voices. God, every limb felt like a thousand pounds. Against her back was a cool cement wall, which would normally serve to frighten her, but she didn't have the energy.
The floor was sleek, marbled.
Where could she be?
Did Madara know where she was?
She was sure enough time passed where he would be looking for her.
Sakura leaned against the wall, for how cold she was her head felt like it was lit aflame. She pressed her cheek against the cool wall, hoping to relieve some of the heat from her face. Clearly, they drugged her to keep her sedated. If the pain from her arm were any indication, they were probably injecting her.
These stark, individual realizations should have sent her screaming.
Like the woman in her dreams, she tried to assess the danger – tried to minimize her fear to give her a better probability of escaping. Her hands were zip tied together, the skin on her wrists were begging for freedom. Sakura briefly remembered a video she watched one time on how to escape from zip ties when heavy footsteps echoed outside her cell. Holding her breath, she feigned sleep when her door opened.
"They're already looking for her, you idiot!" one of the men scolded, "why would you guys do this without the go ahead from the boss?"
"Because they killed my brother! And since the other factions have broken down, this is our chance to take something from the Uchiha!"
"Tobi is going to kill you."
"I'd like to see him try; he thinks just because Raido died he's in charge now. I don't give a fuck. Once I'm done with her Madara will learn to not fuck with us."
A sudden boot to her leg made her yelp.
"Oi, Uchiha slut – wake up!"
Sakura groaned, lulling her head off the wall. All too suddenly, her blindfold was ripped off. The sterile lighting in the room beamed at her. Still unable to see, spots danced across her vision. In front of her, two silhouettes of men cast a shadow over her – she couldn't see them, though it only took a moment to sense how vile they were.
She blinked back the fog in her brain, a new adrenaline pumping within her now that these men were in such proximity.
The angry one crouched in front of her, eyes the size of razors in his hatred, "I see why Madara took a liking to you. You're a pretty one, aren't you?" he grabbed her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. With her vision adjusted, what could have been a handsome man was nothing but a shell of a disgusting pig.
She tried to wrench her chin from him.
He slapped her instead.
"This is how this is going to work," the nameless man prompted, "you're going to tell me what you know about Madara and the clan. Once you're done, I'm going to use that pretty little cunt of yours until I'm satisfied, then I'm going to return your head to him. Understood?"
Sakura's eyes narrowed; fear still licked her skin – yet she refused to be a pawn for this man. Unable to speak, she kept the whimpers of fear swallowed low in her chest. Her lack of reaction must have made him angry, because he pushed her to the ground again – his hand grasping the side of her face and grinding it into the floor.
"You were there weren't you? You were there when Madara broke my brother's jaw!" his voice rose several decibels, "you were there when he smashed his skull into the pavement!"
By now the pain was flaring uncontrollably in her head. He was using all his strength to crush her face into the ground, any longer and she was sure he would break her jaw, "—you were there when he died!"
Before he could break her, the other man grabbed him to reel him back. "If you kill her without Tobi's permission, he will kill you. We can deal with her later, first we need to get him – I'm sure he'll let you handle her himself. He wants the Uchiha's dead just as much as you do. C'mon."
Those words must have been enough to calm him, the enraged yakuza spit on her before shrugging the other off and leaving.
When all was said and done, the other left without a word.
The door slammed shut, the viable lock clicking – enforcing her entrapment.
With the adrenaline still high in her veins, Sakura took a steadying breath. Without realizing it, sudden tears burned her cheeks. The clear memory of Madara killing the men that followed her and Yato. This was her karmic retribution. As a doctor she took an oath to save lives. In that moment she felt an odd fascination seeing the way that man died. She broke her promise, so the universe saw fit to punish her.
Fighting through the pain threaded through her face, Sakura looked around the room. She assumed that she would be in a cold cellar somewhere, locked in a dirty dungeon that fit into many of the movies she watched. This was different than anything she expected. Watered marble flooring, an aesthetically fit brick wall, and polished furniture sat prim around the room. She swallowed, realizing that this wasn't some dungeon somewhere – this was someone's home.
These facts didn't qualm her fears.
A shuddered breath escaped her as she tried to calm her breathing down. If she could figure out where she was, then she could have a better idea. One window arched across the room, from her vantage point on the floor there were a thicket of trees covering the window. Hands still tied, she clumsily scrambled to her feet.
Gimping over to the window, a cry whimpered past her gag when she realized that the window had no way of opening. Cold fingers tried to raise it from the bottom or the sides, but to no avail – they were smart to leave her in this room. Quickly, she glanced around for any type of weapon or item she could use. Other than the sofa cabinets, and mat – the room was barren.
Like a bull-headed ram, she refused to give up. Sweat clung to her like a second skin, if she could just get her wrists out of the binds – the zip ties cut into her wrists, she gagged on her scream when they began to rip her skin, blood dripping from the angry welts on her wrists. They were starting to give. In one large motion, she raised her wrists up and slammed them past her body – effectively breaking the zip ties.
She screamed into the gag.
Black spots dotted her vision. Hastily, she worked on the gag on her mouth.
When she was finally able to breathe properly, Sakura fell onto the mat – knowing that she had only a little while before this Tobi person showed up and decided if she was worth keeping alive. If they hated Madara as much as they claimed, then she was sure her fate was sealed.
To her surprise, no one came the rest of the day. After submitting to her loss of adrenaline and the drugs still in her system – Sakura woke up late at night, the thicket of trees and their spindly branches scratching at the window. Hours of scouring the room for an escape. Trying to pry open the window. Trying to find a weapon. Even if she opened the window, there was a forty foot drop out the window down a mountainside. From the positioning of the moon, they were far north into the mountains outside of Kyoto. Eventually, she gave up – the only thing beckoning her from sleep was the thought that they would come in that night.
They didn't.
Or the day after.
Or the day after that.
Eventually, they would come in when she was asleep, inject her again – leaving her with scrapes of food and a bit of water. Through her hallucinations, she would check herself to make sure they didn't touch her – to her surprise, they didn't. Each day she would hold the food down through her nausea, sip on her water as to not rile up her stomach and dehydrate herself further.
If not for the window, Sakura wouldn't know what day it was.
Her stomach howled for real food. Her throat was raspy and dry, lips chapped. Curled up in the corner, she wondered if she would dwindle away here. Too frightened to sleep, she vaguely wondered where her past self was. Perhaps she would hallucinate and traverse to the pretty world where there weren't any gangs or violence, where she wasn't wrapped up in the Uchiha clan.
Life could be…Simple.
By day four, Sakura started screaming – blood curling screams for someone to open the door. Begging, hoping someone would at least open the door. Hunger clawed at her until she was nauseous – any longer and she would waste away due to thirst.
Two weeks went by like this.
The stench in the room disgusted her. Her hair clung to her; her ribs were jutting out – even she knew she was a shell of herself. Each night he hallucinations were getting more lucid, more vivid. Her grip on reality was a shallow pool riddled with the four walls of this room. After the second week, she stopped waiting for the sun to come up to count her days here. She wanted to fight, she wanted to dismember the men keeping her here, her body betrayed her – too weak to move.
The longer they held her here – the more she realized Madara couldn't find her. Sakura mourned her friends, realizing she would probably die here. She mourned her past life; she would miss them so much it made her chest ache. Naruto's bright personality and Ino's unwavering confidence felt like a memory on a fishing line, close but each time she reached for them – they would pull her further into the dark waters.
Soon she was drowning, choking on her psychosis.
….Help.
Enough to fall asleep, in those waters a crow screamed at her, over and over – shrilling her, jostling her to wake up.
Feudal Japan
Uchiha Stronghold
Something was wrong.
In her study, Sakura set her book down.
She felt sick.
A cold, bone tired forced her into her study. The doctors presumed it was the pregnancy. Madara circled her like a hawk, though after asking him to please leave her alone, he mandated himself to a strategy meeting.
On a perch, a crow stood – cocking its head at her. It screeched, beckoning her forward. Brows a thin line, she tentatively stepped towards the perch. This crow…Felt familiar. Beyond the stronghold, the Uchiha, Uzumaki, and Hyuga vanguard were being prepared to trek further west if negotiations fell through. After the ambush on Madara – his council was weary to attempt more negotiations.
The fight was no longer on the field, where mounds of corpses were being lit by a pyre.
The fight was within the cement walls of the stronghold, amongst men drunk on power.
Where Madara wanted peace talks with Hashirama and reparations for their wrongs within the sublet villages in their territory, his council wanted the eradication of the Senju. It took a lot of convincing – the news of their pregnancy made it simpler for the Senju. For killing Tajima, Tobirama would be stripped of the Senju name.
With her husband healthy, peace on the horizon line – she should have been happy. The crow stood there – fluttering its wings. Another step, she could touch the angry bird if she drifted her hand beyond the window.
As her hand grazed the crow, her power stroked the stronghold. Time coalesced into one, jutting her into the familiar blackness. Starlight surrounded her, dripped her in a holy bath of ink when she steeled herself for gravity. When it never came, she opened her eyes – clutching her belly to protect her child.
Within Midnight's Run, the glass appeared around her.
Weightless, lawless.
The realm beyond time.
A room of glass, some shattered – some clear and stained with vibrant colors, contrasting against the darkness of infinity.
Within the room of starlight, she whirled around – a whisper was beckoning her.
Help…help…. help…help.
Sakura turned, carving out the scenes in front of her. Of her childhood, of her future self-wearing a gown, a scroll proudly in her hand as she waved to a crowd. They all became on tandem timeline, her fingers pressed into the glass – still searching for the withered whisper. Panic set in when the glass brought on new scenes, new memories.
It morphed, she pressed her hands to the glass, devouring where the voice was coming from.
A beckoning call, a bright tether pulled her eyes to a shattered glass on the bottom. Dropping to her knees, she could see her future self – in those same odd clothes clutched to herself in a corner. Sakura sent out a pulse, a beacon for the one that would come visit her.
No response.
The woman lie there in fetal position, unconscious – barely alive.
What scared her the most was the hollow cavity opening in her chest. It drained her spirit, made the tug on the tether heavier. She pushed on the glass, stroked it with her waning power. It terrified her to think of a future without her other half. Fate brought them together, fate trudged through the thick mud of her painful suffering to introduce them.
She punched the glass – stifling a scream when it shattered around her.
Refusing to succumb to the fear, Sakura watched in fascination as the starlight intermixed with the glass, only to be pulled into the room. Dragged, further and further down like the shadows – then brought in front of her thin future self.
As little as she knew of the future, she couldn't be awed by the architecture or scenery. Before her, a weary version of herself lie on the floor, eyes a blank stare. She dropped in front of her future self, sympathy for a woman who looked like her, but she didn't know. She couldn't understand the circumstances that put her here…Yet it was clear she would die if she wasn't released.
Kneeling in front of her, Sakura took a steadying breath. Another pulse of life, their tether was one marginally stronger.
She gathered from that weightless ocean of power, curled her fingers around it until the green glow that left her vision spotted in black. With a healer's grace, she gently hovered her hands over his incarnate's chest. She weaved the power through her, threaded it to fix her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, a look of determination knitted into her brow. She worked in time tables of hours, when she felt her own body start to succumb to exhaustion - taking breaks when those disgusting men would enter the room, inject the poor girl again - leave food for her like a dog, then leave. She wrinkled her nose, hoping they would meet their karmic end one day.
Death would be too forgiving.
It took days, stopping the circular frame of time to use the green glow of life, pushing strength into her odd incarnate. When her breathing would shallow, Sakura would usher more in – refusing to let her die. "Come on!" she screamed one time, their tether weaker by the second. When finally, finally she decided to share their power. When the air seemed stifling, Sakura reached for their pooled strength, bright before her.
The black tattoos covered her skin, her silent, pleading scream only offset by her power splitting into her future self.
The world seemed to crack; a nullifying energy brought color back to her face. Moments passed, kami she was exhausted. It was then that she allowed time to join them. Sakura sat back, her body heavy. She didn't feel weaker – but yielded to the difference in her strength. And just like the call to her power – the same fawning crow croaked her return.
With one last smile, she returned.
What could have been another day or maybe even hours passed when she heard deep voices outside of her door. Sakura's vision was still blurry, but for the first time in weeks - she felt a pitcher of strength. The voices came closer. They were loud and angry. Barely able to keep her eyes open in the morning light, she pushed herself against the cement wall. Putting her hands behind her back to act as if they were tied, she scrambled to grab the leg of the side table she scraped together as a makeshift weapon.
This would be it.
If this killed her, then so be it.
This was torture.
Slightly delirious, she made herself smaller in the corner when the door unlocked.
The first man to enter was the same one that brought her here.
"There's the bitch, boss – look at her."
To her astonishment, behind the first man entered the detective. Instead of the prim man she met when he handed her his card, in his place stood a tattooed man with an angry scowl. It could be her psychosis fooling her – at the sight of him she moved herself up.
"Detec-"
"What have you done?" Tobirama spit out slowly, every syllable drenched in anger.
The man faltered, not expecting that reaction, "those Uchiha bastards killed my brother during the bombing! So I took their broad – "
Tobirama pulled out his gun, pointing it at his subordinate, "what you've done is create more factions within the yakuza because of the Uchiha tearing down this city looking for her! You've brought more attention to us when the government is tracking every fucking person in this city with a record."
"W-wait, Oyabun*!" The man's bravado crippled with the barrel pointed at his face. Sakura didn't flinch when the safety clicked off.
Tobirama's face was mute, devoid of any emotion that she was used to seeing on him, "you've also done something without my approval. Raido may have let you rats get away with anything, but not me."
"Please!" the man nearly fell to his knees, "you're going to kill me for some ulgy bi-!"
Maybe she was too tired, or because her vision was becoming blurry – but the loud gunshot barely spooked her. A high-pitched ring scraped at her ears. Sakura watched with tired eyes as the man's body fell to the floor, limp. His blood splattered at her feet; all she could do was look at what was once a full person. Now, half of his skull was splattered against the window.
In her time as a trauma surgeon, she witnessed a lot.
It wasn't the gore that would upset her in the future, collecting in her nightmares. It wouldn't be the pain or the drugs they injected her with for several weeks. It wouldn't be the threats or bombing that she would need to process. It wouldn't be the hunger or the acceptance that she would die here.
It would be her apathy.
The detective walked over to her slowly, afraid he might startle her like a timid deer. Obviously, he was well trained in dealing with cases such as this. Sakura lifted her gaze to him, wondering how a man that part of law enforcement was here now, in charge of a yakuza faction. He crouched to her level, scoping out her injuries, "…did they hurt you?" his voice softened for her, but it still held a wicked anger.
"No," she drawled out weakly, "I'm just…Really thirsty."
All she could think about was water.
"I'm going to pick you up and get you out of here, ok?"
All she could do was nod.
When he lifted her up, something of a laugh escaped him when she dropped her weapon. "You managed to get your ties off and make a weapon, not bad."
Unable to respond, she gave into the unconsciousness. Something about his heartbeat felt familiar. Pressing her cheek to his chest, an image of a white leopard dashing across a field was the last thing she remembered.
One Week Prior
The city was in flames.
Metaphorically and physically.
When two days passed with Sakura still missing, something inherent snapped within Madara. Within the clan. The Uchiha's foot soldiers scoured Kyoto, breaking into yakuza drug houses – killing anybody that didn't give a viable answer. It became a bloody war on day three. Local shootouts. An old woman got caught in a drive-by, marking it as the first civilian to get caught in the dismembering of the city since the bombing. This drove the yakuza forces to retaliate. On all the paperwork amassed in the first three days, all of it was labeled as the Yakuza's crimes. Not one whisper of the Uchiha name was written onto paper.
It didn't end.
With the protection of the police, it allowed Madara's men to roam freely.
Bodies would litter the floor, more of his men were dropping. More factions were breaking off, wondering who was in charge. It created a lilt chaos; stores were shutting down early – quads of police were patrolling the streets. A notice from local officials were telling people to report any local yakuza members to the police. One would think this would cut the hand off the Uchiha, as their men were being picked off the street and thrown into jail, but they were released hours after.
A brutal gang fight in search for her erupted a fireworks factory, blowing up an entire city block. Other than the yakuza and Uchiha soldiers within the building, there were no fatalities. People figured it a good riddance. If it were any other city, the national guard would have been brought in to regulate and police the city. A quasi-martial law would have been enacted.
Tobirama knew why there was a lack of true regulation in Kyoto.
Under the strict thumb of the Uchiha, you could see Madara Uchiha posed next to the foreign minister, province governor, and prefecture state councilmen. In front of him, pictures were spread out on a diagram. It pieced together the entirety of the clan, with a couple of vital missing pieces. His years as a detective and faux yakuza garnered him a plethora of information on the clan he detested most. Now with a position of true power since Raido's death – Tobirama could see clearly how Madara ran the city.
Except now, it would all slip from his fingers if the entirety of the yakuza, including the opposing factions dismantled enough for the Uchiha to recruit them. Pride was the only thing keeping his men pieced together. Pride and a hatred for the powerful clan, some more than him. This search for the doctor was tearing the city apart.
It was suffocating his faction.
All for Sakura Haruno.
Tobirama began asking his own men if they knew the whereabouts. When another one of their men got picked off the street, it was Ito who finally came up to him. A week, an entire week two of his men were sitting on this information. Raido enlisted his faction to shoot a rival gang, which led to the bombing on that vile day.
Ito confided to him that Kento took her to one of their safehouses outside of Kyoto. When the news dropped, Tobirama felt millions of cuts scratch across his skin.
"Did you help him?" his words came out slow, calculating.
Ito swallowed, watching as his leader's trust in him shattered, "no. He took me to her last week. He's been out there with Botan watching over her."
Part of him doubted that she would be alive.
"Take me there, now."
At his family's local clinic, Sakura was safe.
Safe from the Uchiha, safe from the yakuza.
The room they let her soil herself in would be burned down along with the body of Kento. The chipper, determined doctor was a shell of her former self. She lost weight in that room, tore that room apart wanting to escape. Something in her died in that room. When he entered, Tobirama half expected the scent of death to hit him. Instead, it was musk, blood, and her own excrement. Like a lost child, she kept to the corner. Her lack of reaction to seeing someone die ignited a foreign, vehement anger for himself and his own men.
This was his fault.
They kidnapped her, drugged her, hit her, and starved her.
Her brilliant emerald eyes were a sated juniper color, dark and mossy – lacking the valiant life he admired about her.
She slept for an entire day.
On a steady IV, he helped his cousins with her care. They would keep it a secret, disclosing her files to him. It was very illegal – but it was the only place the Uchiha wouldn't, or rather couldn't look for her. Slowly, color returned to her face. Already a rather petite woman, it pained him to see her so skinny.
Looking deeper into her while he waited for her to wake, it came to his attention that she was a resident surgeon for his aunt at the trauma hospital. For such a large city, it was much too small. The only reprieve of news he received was she suffered from severe dehydration and malnutrition. What the doctors couldn't understand was how she was still alive. She would be weak; it would take time to heal - but most people that undergo such conditions are kissing death. Tobirama refused to question the stroke of luck.
Her body would eventually heal, her mind would not. The drugs were processed through her body – a small exhale of relief came when his cousin told him they didn't touch her.
The bruising on her face would heal, though he knew her nightmares would begin.
There was a storm outside when she woke up.
A tremulous storm, it shook the strong walls of the building – trying to yield them to its anger. Tobirama kept a soft light on as a read by her side, the soft glow casting shadows on her pretty face. Deep, deep inside it felt like he knew this woman. Odd, faceted memories would chime in. This familiarity coalesced with his guilt.
It would be with him forever.
A week later, she slowly opened her eyes.
He could see her disappointment when the face she wanted to see wasn't there.
"I know I'm not the person you're looking for, sorry to disappoint you."
Sakura gained a sense of her surroundings, the friendly, steady beep!...beep!...beep! of the heart rate monitor calmed her down. Like someone waking up from a coma, with bleary eyes she took note that this wasn't a hospital, but an emergency clinic. Tobirama set his book down on his lap, allowing her the peace of silence before he spoke. In comfortable silence, minutes went by – their thoughts muted by the thundering storm outside.
To his surprise, she looked at him with a sad, sad smile, "water…Please?"
On que, he handed her the water to help with her scorched throat, it felt like she swallowed a jar full of sand. Slowly, she leaned her mouth forward to cusp her lips around the straw, sucking in the heavenly liquid with her eyes closed. Knowing not to drink too much, she quenched her thirst enough to speak properly, only a note of scratchiness jarring her vocal cords, "thank you."
Even in her condition, her good-natured aura radiated off her – he figured it was something she couldn't help. It was simply her, an innate goodness in her soul. He set the cup back down on her bedside, "this is my family's clinic. It's been in our family for three generations…" his eyes roamed around the room to appreciate the landscape, the years of service this place gave to the community, "I believe you trained under my aunt Tsunade – she runs this part time."
Establish commonality.
Don't frighten her.
Sakura didn't speak, just waited for his explanation as to why he was the one to save her.
"I came to you a month ago explaining that the men you're involved with aren't who you think they are," he paused, chewing on his words, "…I suppose I should have been speaking about myself, as well."
A somber, dry chuckle escaped him, "perhaps all of us men are never who we portray."
More silence.
"—I apologize for what happened to you. I didn't know my men decided to abduct you. That doesn't absolve any of my responsibility because those were my men…I should have had more control over them. A lot of power switching has been happening lately. With that – I have no business asking for your forgiveness. I have no business speaking to you as a fellow civilian, when I'm no better than the pigs that I'm trying to destroy."
Sakura kept her gaze straight-ahead, barely there.
"I killed them though, I killed everyone involved and made an example of them." The memory of Ito being thrown into a deep grave stung – the remnants of betrayal clear on his young, pale face. Just a kid wrapped up in this mess. "I never want to take the choice away from you. If you'd like to report me and my men to the authorities or Madara –" he grabbed his phone from his back pocket, setting it on her bedside. "You are well within your rights to do so."
She shifted her gaze to the phone, then to him.
He was the same man from the past, the same lines on his face – the same handsome, harsh look. What did he have to do with her past self? Safe…This man made her feel safe. "Where's Madara?"
"On his way."
A slight trepidation rolled over her body, Tobirama would even call it fear.
"Why are you in the yakuza?" She needed answers, she couldn't be left in the dark any longer, for her own safety. For her own decisions, she didn't want any of this anymore. None of it. She was going to break. Her sanity was kept together by strings, like a broken puppet, something snipped her – she couldn't do this anymore.
Tobirama leaned back, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension out of his body, "because I've been planning to ruin the Uchiha. They're well connected within the government. Madara has them in his back pocket. As law enforcement, their files are hidden or extinguished. You're an intelligent woman, Sakura – you know the men that you've involved yourself with. They're narcotic drug dealers, gun traffickers, and murderers. I only had access to so much information as a detective. Years ago I decided to go in from a different angle. So far, this has gotten me further than the restrictions of my formal job."
Sakura eyed the bracelet on her left wrist, knowing the part she played in all of this, "...when he gets here, please take me away. Don't argue with me, I just need to leave after I speak with him." A harsh cough wracked her body, terrorizing her chest.
He fed her more water, calling in the nurse to fix up her IV again and offering her ice chips.
Gaining her breath, Sakura steeled herself to break her own heart. "—I don't care about your intentions or who you really are, detective. Thank you for saving me –" her words were cut off when his presence filtered into the building. She could feel it, feel him. Like the night sky she loved so much, he was the shadows. He was the darkness that engulfed her, swallowed her into the past, projected her into the future.
His shadows grasped her long before he entered her room. In tow, Shisui, Itachi, and Sasuke followed.
Her welcome party.
He took up the entire room, standing before her like a man that discovered water in a barren desert. His normally steel eyes shone a bright red, those shadows encompassing the room. He looked over her, scanning every inch, unbelieving that she was there in front of him. Alive.
"Sakura-"
He dropped to her side, on his knees. Even still, he was taller than her on the bed. His eyes were level with her own, he gripped her hand – noting how cold she was, "I'm so sorry-"
"You promised," she spoke, words hard. Her hand lie limp in his hand, refuting his touch. Bags adorned his face, dark hollows contrasted against the normally clear mask he wore.
"Sakura-!"
"You promised you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me." She repeated the words, solemn. Dead as they left her lips. She wasn't strong enough for this. She could never be a Yakuza wife, she could never stomach the death, the violence. The world breaking beyond the clinic walls was still unknown to her. Her mind was breaking, her soul shattered. If it hadn't been for the soft hands of her past life breathing life into her, she would be dead.
He cupped her hands in his own, threading his fingers to hold her close – to give her his fire, his warmth. "I failed you," Madara's jaw clenched, praying she would give him another chance, "I tore apart this city looking for you. I will never let them touch you again. I'll kill them, all of them—"
"Stop!" she drew back her hand as if he struck her, "I can't, I can't, I can't!" she repeated, too weak to fight. She couldn't hear those words anymore; she couldn't bring herself to accept this violence anymore. She shook, willing her body to sit up.
Too weak.
She nearly collapsed, "I can't be with you! With this family! It hurts me, it hurts people…" her words were jumbled, rocky. Her voice sour. Her words stunned the other Uchiha men. Sasuke made a choking sound in his throat.
Madara remained still, everything within her fought to stay with him. In her haze, a red string wrung itself around them, whipping around in a frenzy. He barely breathed, scared he might push her further away from him, "…please." His voice was a whisper.
"-I will give up everything, Sakura. I will renounce myself; I will give up everything in this world if you stay with me…" his words shook with his intensity. Sakura turned her head to look at him, too weak to cry – too weak to move. All she could do was see the broken man beside her, "I'm begging you, I'll take us somewhere far away from here. We can leave Kyoto-"
"Madara-!" Shisui cut in, only to be on the receiving end of Madara's hand signaling him to shut up.
As much as she loved these past few months. As much as she allowed her body to be possessed by this man, as much as she loved him, she couldn't do it. The pain brought from this clan; her time stuck in that purgatory made her realize that she didn't want to court a dance with death. These men…They were death.
In silk shadows, drunk on their power.
"I will love you until the moon and stars no longer rise and fall each night."
"-Please, stop."
His spiel got stuck in the air, Sakura gripped her blanket, "I just want…All of it to stop."
Forlorn, Madara shattered at her rejection.
An uncomfortable, heavy silence milled in the room.
Tobirama cleared his throat, going on the opposite side of the doctor to help her up. A nurse ushered out the other stunned men. They were losing one of their own. Whether they were keen to admit it, they all grew attached to the jovial, blossoming pinkette. Sasuke gave one last wavering look at his ex-fiancé, his feelings akin to that of his clan leader. At least when she was with Madara, she would be close by. Now – they would never see her.
They left, having ruined this city to find her – individual shatters of them breaking.
No words were spoken, Madara kept on his knees – preying to whatever god could find it in them to pity him that they would change her mind.
When Tobirama gripped her arm to help her up, Madara snapped to attention. His dark face promised the detective a slow death, as much as he wanted to spew his threats – as much as he wanted to know how and why Tobirama found her before him, he refused to scare his lover any further. She needed time, she needed time away from him – as much as that thought killed him.
He would give her space, anything she needed. Though she knew by his promise when they first met that he would never let her go, her safety would always be bound to him. In their past life, in this life, and the next.
Madara stood, trying to reach for her hand once more. Sakura curled her fingers from him, flinching at the sudden movement. His vision bled red, her fear wrapped around him like a snake, suffocating any thought other than his failure to protect her. "I love you, Sakura."
Her crow left, and it was when she knew he was gone – his shadows rippling with him, that tether still there but faint – that she allowed herself the small respite of crying.
Author's Note:
Oyabun: The absolute leader of a yakuza clan.
Thank you for taking the time to read, I apologize if there's any grievous mistakes. I really wanted to push this out for everyone to read.
We're about 70% done with this story. Thank you for sticking with me. ^^
Please let know what you think~