Any moment might be our last.

The sun was high above the trio's heads, and there in the rock forests of Earth Country the shadows were cast in such awkward, jagged ways that shade was irregular and frustratingly fleet.

The three of them chatted lightly, stopping here or there to admire the strange scenery. Itachi, despite being so young, was the most well-traveled of the three of them, and was a wealth of information. Sakura had quickly learned in the last few weeks that the best ways to prompt him were not to outright ask him—no, that would get her a smirk that disappeared in the next moment and no answers. Instead she would veer off and hum, poke at some strange plant sprouting up out of the rock, or get caught up in the breeze in her hair as she peered through the pillars and out at the never-ending farmlands and forests way off in the distance.

It was in those moments that he had something to offer, sating her curiosity in roundabout ways. She figured that the small bit of openness she'd managed to get out of him on the dock the night before was a one-time thing, a tiny window of vulnerability that he'd swiftly shut.

Soon after they crossed into the deeper parts of the rock forests where the stalagmites were thicker and far taller, they happened upon the Five-Tails' host. In the split second that she froze to realize it, Inner gave an annoyed sigh; hadn't she just the night before insisted that they wouldn't find the guy so soon?

Well, aniki won't let us live this one down.

He had with him a small group of other shinobi, all wearing forehead protectors bearing the symbol of the Village Hidden by Rocks.

"Yo," Kisame himself called to the man, whose height and stature made him unmistakably their target. Even from a distance she could see he stood taller even than Kisame, dwarfing Itachi and her both. She swallowed, subtly pushing for his chakra as the men spoke in strained, cautious tones. The reserves did not feel quite so massive, but she thought of Naruto's swirling red aura, powerful in its fury, and beneath her cloak she wove the beginnings of a wood-style jutsu, carefully holding the chakra in place. Something simply told her that this would not go as smoothly as planned,

The Rock nin around him shifted uncomfortably, their eyes narrowed in suspicion as they looked among the Akatsuki members. There were six of them plus the jinchuuriki, leaving three for Itachi and her. She racked her brain for their first plan, predetermined before they'd fallen asleep at the inn, for Kisame to leap in with Samehada in hopes to get a clean enough opening. With so much backup, though, she wondered if it would be possible.

Plan B involved Sakura much more directly, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, awaiting Kisame's signal.

"I know those robes, sir," one of the men was whispering harshly. "They're part of the insurgent group that seeks your Beast."

"Oh? It seems our reputation precedes us." Kisame smirked, cocking his head towards his two teammates.

"We don't want any problems," said the jinchuuriki, his voice betraying an easygoing attitude beneath his intimidating stature. "I can promise you that you will not have what you seek, so be on your way, and we will be on ours."

But Kisame's laugh held a hint of an insidious tone that made her shiver. In their spars they both held back for fear of attracting too much attention, but she'd seen traces of bloodlust flash over his features whenever she'd slip up.

"You tell us to leave after implying we're too weak to take what we want, and after we came all this way! Well then, Itachi-san, little Sakura-san, shall we get on with it? Sounds like we could teach them some manners."

It was he who moved first, dashing off with a speed so great that it startled her, his potential unleashed as she'd never before seen it as he closed in on the other man, who'd already begun weaving hand signs. A thick fog enveloped his form, and Kisame hesitated for only a split second before pulling Samehada from his back. That he'd drawn it so soon told her all she needed to know, and she wasted no time in rushing in to back him up.

The man's entourage had squared off, standing in a formation that Kisame seemed keen on simply barreling through. With the hilt of her own sword gripped in her hand she closed the distance, and when she came within taijutsu range she noticed that it was not fog he'd released, but searing hot steam. Kisame had managed to goad two of the ninja, coaxing them out of their formation as he engaged them out of the steam's range. The other four men stood their ground; they must have had some sort of training or technique to make them heat-resistant.

It was a split-second decision, but she wove signs for an earth-style jutsu and slammed her open palms onto the ground. Whether short or long range, it would be tricky to fight so many men plus the host when they were crowded together like that. Pillars of rock shot forth from the earth beneath each of their feet, all but the host scattering as intended, and he watched with an intent look that bordered on curious as the steam pooled around him.

Itachi had finally entered the fray, joining with an onslaught of jutsu so swift that all four of the men had no choice but to engage. In a flash his eyes had met hers, that usual dull look there replaced by a fierce resolve, that will of fire she knew all too well. She knew the words unspoken were a command for her to finally get on with it.

With all of her speed she approached the host. She steeled herself against the steam's stinging pain, pushing more chakra to that raincoat layer to shield herself from its heat. Through her watering eyes she looked up at the jinchuuriki, unsheathing her sword and swinging it in quick, fluid motions.

It'd been plan B to distract him with swordplay so she had time to catch him by the ankles with treeroots and sap his chakra, forcing him to unleash his Tailed Beast for Kisame to swoop in and rid him of those reserves, too. With Kisame momentarily out of the picture, though, she had to act quickly. The wind-style chakra she'd sent up into her blade to sharpen its edge and extend its reach was about the most she could do with it, her chances of dispelling the steam low.

She swung her straightsword with deadly precision, but each was either blocked by the guards on his forearms or parried with a kunai. He was quick and versed in close-combat techniques, and she sheathed her blade to opt for taijutsu instead. Though he was well-clothed and nearly two feet taller than her, if she could touch any part of his skin he would succumb to genjutsu, opening him to be wrapped in roots from head to toe, draining his energy and allowing for a riskier, though much cleaner, capture.

There was the metallic scent of blood rising in the air all around her, and she winced to understand her teammates had already killed most of the other nin. Her breaths were labored and her muscles ached from the effort of such high-speed combat—all while protecting herself from the heat—but Orochimaru had trained her to be quick and crafty, and the moment she saw her opening, she wove her seals as fast as she could.

Mighty roots sprung from the ground, catching at the man's ankles and ensnaring him. He stumbled, falling backwards but catching himself on his hands—a poor move, because she managed to nab him by the wrists, too. She reached out her hand, hoping to trap him in an illusion and make all further combat unnecessary.

But the heat from the billowing steam grew hotter and hotter, and when she looked down and into the man's eyes, her own watered from pain. It grew intenser still, and to her horror she realized her mistake in staying so close. He'd infused the steam with his own chakra, effectively melting away the shield she kept around her and eating away at her skin. She fell to her knees, slamming her straightsword into the rock to prop herself up. There on the ground she saw the roots around his joints begin to burst and die from the intense moisture and temperature, and the skin on her forearms started to redden and blister so deeply they were nearing purple in only seconds.

Vaguely she was aware that the man, free of her treeroot bonds, had been blasted back by a torrent of water, and struggled to get to her feet as she watched Itachi run after him. Through her blurring vision she saw an onslaught of jutsu now, her teammates aware that they couldn't risk letting him cast the steam technique again.

Fuck if we die here, Inner growled.

She grunted in pain, trying her best not to cry out; she would need all of her concentration if she were to pull through this. Each deep breath scorched her from her lips all the way down to her lungs as if she were drinking fire, but she was not yet dead and her chakra was still plentiful. She sent it up through her entire being, picturing it healing each of her organs one at a time as it pushed its way up through and to her skin. The aching burns in her throat ceased, the horrific marks on her skin fading away. The blisters popped and drained on their own, and that sickly lightheaded feeling in her skull eased.

Still shaking in the midst of the dense haze, she stood. Even without tapping into her curse mark, the power of the First Hokage was mighty indeed, and she took in the last of her deep, steadying breaths. From her back her wooden snakes burst forth; she was confident that, infused with a steady stream of her chakra straight from her body, they would not be withered and rendered useless if the man were to use that jutsu again.

She scanned the area. Her teammates were quick, but the man was quicker, dodging with a certain levity about his body language that almost seemed to Sakura as if he were enjoying the effort. She leapt back into the battle, knowing that he could not manage the onslaught of the three of them for long.

Itachi's voice was low and quiet in her ear as he darted past her, commanding her next move in a whisper of no more than one word:

"Left."

She was driven by instinct alone as she sent her wooden snakes crashing in that same direction. The man had indeed appeared there, and she could've smiled she was so pleasantly surprised to find that she'd reacted in time to clothesline him. His neck caught on one, his feet catching another—just as Kisame called her name, she captured his wrists to prevent him from weaving any signs, and he heard her teammate sigh in relief.

As she stood there struggling against the man's massive strength and feeling his body's natural chakra drain out of him, she thought of the way Sasuke had darted in front of her to take out the Mist nin back on their first big mission. How he'd moved seemingly without thinking, and how she'd thought it was all for the sake of the mission—and for her. But now a new understanding was breaking in her, that perhaps he'd been reacting to the presence of the threat alone, that deep instinctual feeling to just keep oneself alive when the world was falling down around you.

A gruff voice caught her attention, snapping her from her musing.

"I don't want to kill you," the man said. Itachi and Kisame stood their ground a ways away, still in offensive stances. They were awaiting the unleashing of the Five-Tailed Beast, after all.

"Likewise," she answered, using all of her chakra control to keep him pinned in place. "I got roped into this just last week."

"You're"—he grunted, and she watched as he winced beneath his mask—"that kid who ran off with Orochimaru."

She pursed her lips. Would that reputation truly follow her forever? Fame, even of the bad variety, was a consequence she hadn't considered. Maybe she'd never expected to become anyone worthwhile. But besides that, she was part of Akatsuki now, and wondered if Sakura of the Akatsuki would be the next name people would hear in the rumor mill.

"Don't lump me in with him. It's Sakura."

"Han. Pleasure."

She sighed. Even here, detained and rapidly losing energy, he still had the spirit enough to make a sarcastic jab at her. But now that she knew his name, her mind was quickly running wild with thoughts that made her feel sick to her stomach.

Someone had named him Han. Be it a biological parent or an adoptive one, perhaps an aunt or an uncle or a distant cousin who cared enough to take him in. With a personality like what she'd gleamed so far, he was sure to have friends, perhaps a rival or even a lover. Maybe it could even be one of the men lying dead on the ground all around them...! She thought of Karin smiling sweetly at her when their eyes caught during their quiet meditations each morning. She thought of Naruto and of Sasuke, annoying her endlessly or coming to her rescue or meeting her for dinner, waiting around for Kakashi.

And she even thought of Orochimaru and the very strange kindness that hid his venomous nature, Kabuto and his very punchable face, and Itachi and Kisame, who'd been professional and courteous and even a bit silly up until now, were she to look past that their names were in the bingo book.

Her reminiscing and yearning were cut short, because the instant Han's own chakra was snuffed out entirely, his aura exploded around him. It was his Tailed Beast's chakra indeed, and she tried to ground herself against the sudden surge, her hair blowing in the breeze of its sheer force. She could feel how exponentially he'd grown in power, and knew that without tapping into the curse mark to amplify her power, there was no way her wood release was good enough yet to drain Han enough to knock him out.

Another pressurized blast of water shot towards him, but Han, encased in that horrid red chakra, simply swatted it away as if it were little more than a fly. That same boiling-hot steam billowed around him, and Sakura called upon the power within the seal on her wrist. Confident in her ability to self-heal, she stood in the midst of the fog and felt her own elevated power pulse through her veins. She released only the first level, cautious that fighting a Tailed Beast could last a very long time; she would be useful to no one if she expended her reserves too quickly.

She did not know for how long Itachi and Kisame had been working together, but they fought around each other as gracefully and tactfully as dancers. Sakura had only her own skills as a fast learner to rely on, leaping up and out of the way of a stray fireball or torrent of water, and trusting them to steer clear of her own arsenal, too. The stalagmites were not so lucky, caught in the crossfires and coming crashing down or blasted away, the dust and rubble thick in the air.

There was one moment—truly, it couldn't have been more than one single second—that Han froze in place. She was the closest to him, remaining as near as she dared for being the only one unaffected by the heat, and her legs moved on their own to see him freeze.

She leapt at him, pivoting mid-air to grip the base of his skull in one of her fists. Any semblance of tact or craftiness had left her as Inner had taken the front seat, and though she could feel the pain of his burning hot chakra eating through the palm of her hand, she still had plenty of her own to spare to heal as she went. With a yell that echoed off of the canyon walls she pushed, slamming all of her weight down into her hand and knocking him into the rocky ground with so much force that a crater formed beneath them. A horrid cough tore from Han's throat, and another voice rang in her ears then.

"Oi, little sis!" Kisame was charging in, Samehada swinging down in a wide arc over his head. She flipped back just as it made contact with Han's shoulderblades, splitting the fabric of his clothes and raking across his flesh with a sickening sound that made Sakura wince. Its effect was instant, the aura around Han fading with each terrible swipe of Kisame's mighty sword until there was just the man, bloodied and unconscious, lying there in ruined clothes on the ground.

It had happened so much faster than she'd anticipated.

She ran, her instincts back in a way different from before. Just when she'd released the curse mark, she couldn't say, but as she heard Itachi click his tongue and fuss at Kisame for overdoing it, she heard Han's heartbeat—faint, but there. With a great sigh she pressed her forehead down to his exposed back, swallowing down the lump that'd formed in her throat. The scent of his blood was thick in her nostrils, and she heaved in a great breath.

It was an awful feeling, realization that Pein had been right about so many things that she'd never even realized. Han hadn't done a single thing to her, yet she'd fought him as hard as if he'd given her personal insult of the greatest kind. It was the way of the Academy, it was the way of Orochimaru, and it was the way of the Akatsuki as well. All around her were lives of his comrades, snuffed out in the name of "peace," and if Kisame had been just the tiniest bit more harsh, Han would be dead, too.

I can't let this life, she thought as she caught her breath, make me as cruel as this.

She pressed her palms to the deep scratches on Han's skin, stitching them together as best she could with her shaking hands. If asked why, she could easily cover that he wouldn't survive his wounds without her help—they needed him alive, after all. For good measure, she hovered two fingers above his forehead and swept down just as she'd done to Itachi when first they'd met. Though Han was unconscious, she could feel the spots throughout his body where his pain was concentrated, and sent waves of her healing chakra there to calm it. If he were to wake on the road, he need not be in any more pain than necessary.

There was that ominous feeling she could not shake that whatever "method for extraction" the boss spoke of would be torment enough.

The entire trek back to their rendezvous point, Sakura studied Han from head to toe in a way that she didn't allow herself before. Kisame was so lively that it was almost scary, the smile beneath his shining eyes never quite fading.

"Gotta admit, sis, I thought you were done for a few times back there."

With his hat fallen from his head and his mask cracked, the menacing look about Han had vanished. His burliness—he was massive even slung over Kisame's shoulder—was less intimidating now that she could see his face, and she wondered if the children of his village had ever treated him with ridicule and contempt.

"Now that I know you can heal like that, I won't be holding back next time we make camp."

There in the gentleness of his sleeping features she saw a certain kindness, the slight lines around his eyes revealing, perhaps, that he was someone who dearly loved to laugh. She thought of Naruto and his wide smile, that easygoing exterior hiding so much more than he'd ever let on.

"And don't think I missed that you've been holding back on me with your swordplay."

And she was just...supposed to let him die?

"Three days," Itachi said quietly. He was trailing behind she and Kisame, and as she broke her study of Han's body, she found Itachi staring at her with a look that almost made her shiver. A line of dried blood streaked his face, and she realized then it must have been his Sharingan that allowed her the opening to finally take Han down.

"Until what?"

"It's the length of the extraction ritual. You'll be expected to participate."

Three days?

How, then, was she supposed to monitor Han's health? When was she supposed to know the moment he died, if the death was something so drawn out and painstaking? And if she were participating, well, she hardly knew what that would entail.

She stopped in her tracks, looking straight into Itachi's eyes. It seemed like a warning, that thing in them that shot her through with fear. A warning not to do anything stupid or rash, a warning to simply do as she was instructed.

Perhaps, though, it was a warning that she only had so long to either run while she still could—or to come up with some other plan. And something within her, far deeper in her soul than even Inner was, told her that running was not an option.

Kisame carried on, unbothered by their lack of chatter or their delays. It was only a few short hours on foot to their meeting spot, where a teleportation jutsu would whisk them back to the Akatsuki headquarters. The Fifth Hokage's rebirth technique was still an intimidating prospect, but she'd managed to heal excruciating burns mid-battle with a jinchuuriki.

It seemed that, like most of her feats so far, this too would need to be done under pressure.