Chapter 3 - Harsh Words
Sometime during the night, the bindings on Sakura's arms dropped away. Her hands slipped down the rough sides of the tree trunk. She blinked several times. The nighttime veil was so thick she didn't know if her eyes were open or closed. But she had the vague sensation of a body beside her in the darkness.
Dots of pressure suddenly danced up her arm then melted into a warm hand. It rocked her shoulder back and forth gently.
"Come on," a low, extremely tired voice said above her head. "You can't sleep like this." But she didn't move.
"It's me," Katsuro repeated, exasperation seeping in to his voice. "Come on."
Sakura already knew who it was. But it wasn't from fear that she didn't move.
"My waist," she said, her voice sounding thick and tired to her own ears.
"Oh yeah," he exhaled.
Momentarily, the ropes dropped across her lap. The hand returned to her shoulder. Fingers dragged back down her limp arm and wrapped around her wrist. Katsuro materializing beside her and helped her to her feet.
"Come on," he said again, stifling a yawn.
She walked blindly behind him, stumbling several times. Her legs and arms felt like they were attached to puppet strings, and her hands burned with the rush of blood.
Katsuro stopped suddenly, his hand tightening on her wrist to prevent her from toppling over. She heard the rustle of fabric and had only an instant to register that they were at his tent before he moved forward and his hand tugged her downward. She resisted involuntarily, body half bent at the tent opening, a thousand objections raising in her mind.
"Look, I've got an extra blanket," came his muffled voice, muffled from somewhere behind a canvas flap, prepared for her argument. Fabric swished and his voice became clear again. "I'll tie my hand to yours, that way we can both get some sleep."
Another insistent tug on her wrist, accompanied by "duck your head," was the only warning she got before she was dragged forward into the tent.
Sakura had a moment of dizziness, muscles feeling waterlogged and her equilibrium swimming from the darkness and disorientation. But it passed as she found the ground and came to a more natural sitting position. He pushed a thin blanket roll into her lap and let her get adjusted.
After a moment he asked for her hand. He wrapped the binding around her wrist, then his own, leaving a few inches slack for comfort. Satisfied, he slipped beneath his own blanket.
"I can't let you sleep out there," he yawned. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
Sakura said nothing, instead stretched her aching limbs under the old blanket. A small yawn escaped. The sweet relief in her muscles and the need for sleep quickly overtook all her objections.
After a few moments, Katsuro's drowsy voice interrupted the stillness. "Just…just don't tell anyone about this." Then his breathing slipped into the steady rhythm of sleep too.
Sakura woke up alone the next morning. Sun dappled the canvas walls of the musty tent.
She quietly sat up, stretched, then rubbed the binding still tied to one wrist. Now she had time to examine the worn brown strap a little more carefully. Sakura pooled green light at her fingertips and sunk them into the fleshy leather. Just as she suspected, the leather absorbed her chakra as if it were a sponge.
Sighing, Sakura carefully leaned forward and peeked out of the tent. Her movement didn't go unnoticed. A loud "Oi!" rang out from the direction of the tiny fire circle.
'Ugh,' she thought, and pulled the flap back.
"Good! You're up!" Katsuro stood. "Let's get something to eat."
Sakura looked him over. Katsuro had returned to his brown fatigues and face-concealing wraps from the day before, the pale Sand cloak and head gear he wore last night were draped over a log. He nodded at her impatiently, urging her on.
In short order, she found herself seated on one of the large smooth stones at the main campfire, balancing a small bowl on her knees.
"Eat," was his only instruction.
Their entrance to the main camp had not garnered much attention, and Sakura made as little eye contact as possible. A quick glance around showed the rest of the men similarly dressed as Katsuro. Some were eating, some were sharpening their weapons. A few were competing for who could pitch rocks the farthest. What a shiftless bunch, she thought as Katsuro walked over to observe their contest.
Sakura pushed the lumpy, grey masses around her bowl, unsure if it was meat or vegetable or rice. Or some unholy combination of all three. She wished she'd saved the apple from yesterday.
Stubbornly quelling her hunger, Sakura dared another look to see how everyone else was faring. Did they really eat this stuff everyday or was this just reserved for hostages? Several emptied bowls indicated it was served to everyone. She looked back at her own dish and grimaced. Maybe she'd go without, she decided. She clasped her bound hands together behind the bowl and sat quietly.
Across the circle, a burly man called out her judgement of the food. "Look at her! She don't like our food! At least we're feeding her, the ungrateful little…."
Sakura squared her shoulders, ignoring them. In her peripheral vision, she saw Katsuro whip around quickly, frown first at the man, then at her body language. But he turned away as if it didn't matter to him.
Sakura relaxed her shoulders a bit. It was a small victory but she'd take it—
"So as I was saying to Fumio," Katsuro continued a little louder. "There were absolutely no signs of the Leaf nins."
Sakura froze. She held her breath and listened hard. When no other information followed, she cut her eyes in his direction. Now several of the men were watching her. Seeing that she'd been baited, Sakura resolved to ignore him. She looked back down, pretending to study study her fingernails.
But this only goaded Katsuro further.
"Nope, I don't think they are going to come for her after all. And we've been watching for them," he said a little louder. "Even at the farthest outpost there hasn't been the slightest sign." A few men shrugged and went back to their occupations.
Katsuro took his bowl and walked back to where she was sitting, swaggering slightly. But his gloating proved to be too big a target for the other men.
"And who's fault is that?" the burly man sneered. "If you had opted for someone of skill and usefulness rather than just a pretty face, then the big boss would have what he needed by now, wouldn't he? Eh, Fumio?" The rail-thin man sitting beside him laughed meanly.
Sakura glanced up. Katsuro was walking toward her, eyes blazing, shoulders tight. But he refused to turn around and address them.
So these men had it out for him. And he knew it. Interesting, she thought, watching the bowl tremble in his hand from being gripped too tightly.
Fumio, the skinny one, chimed in next. "Right, Raiden. If Konoha can abandon her so easily, then she's not worth anything to us either. But that's on your head now, isn't it Kat-su-ro…." He drawled out the name maliciously.
"Bastards," Katsuro growled. He slammed the dish down on the rock beside her, flipping the food out everywhere. Sakura leaned sideways to avoid flying clumps, but Katsuro could care less. He had already turned, fists clenched and was stalking back toward the other nins, shoving the sleeves up his forearms. "If you have a problem—"
"Katsuro!" a man's voice boomed from the edge of one of the large campaign tents.
The rest of the men immediately turned away and quickly disappeared into the thicket of tents. None wanted to get caught up in whatever discipline might be meted out to him. But the biggest of them, Raiden, and his hatchet-faced partner, Fumio, hung back to laugh at Katsuro before they left with the rest.
Katsuro halted. Fists still ground closed, he grudgingly watched the men disappear, then turned and stomped toward the voice. Little puffs of silt rose up around his feet as he crossed the circle.
In the shadows was another man, this one dressed in dark fatigues. He didn't wear face concealments, but Sakura still couldn't distinguish any unique features. He never left the line of tents, opting to speak to her captor in hushed tones.
They must have been speaking about her, Sakura decided, because the other man pointed discreetly in her direction a few times. Whatever was said though, her warden didn't agree with. Katsuro frustratedly swept his hand where the rogues had been lazing, then jerked his head back at her, obliterating all discretion. The man simply shook his head and pointed firmly towards her, before returning to the large tents.
Sakura heard Katsuro mutter, "Hai, Taichou," before storming back over, eyes down, deep in thought. His cheerful demeanor had completely evaporated.
"Up," he snapped, and hooked a hand under her elbow. He hauled her to standing in a single motion. The uneaten bowl of food slid sideways off her lap and spilled in the dust at their feet.
Katsuro angrily stepped over the mess and marched her back to the little campsite in silence.
Sakura had very little to occupy herself with over the course of the day. And the decline in her captor's mood didn't ease her boredom.
She was returned to the spot at the tree without a word from Katsuro except "sit." Sakura wasn't sure what had happened, if the cause was his teammates, his superior or her. Or a combination of all three. But she decided the best plan would be to quietly obey.
He disappeared for a while, then returned with a cache of weapons and laid them all out for inspection, cleaning and sharpening whichever ones needed work. Sakura watched him methodically going through the tools, surprised to learn he carried identical weaponry to the shinobi of Konoha.
He worked so diligently for so long that Sakura had stopped paying close attention until a little movement drew her notice.
Sharpening a knife against a stone balanced on his leg, Katsuro unconsciously scratched the wrappings at his cheek then returned to his work. Eyes half-closed, Sakura kept only a dull focus on Katsuro. She was mildly surprised when he rubbed his face again. After the third time, she was observing him keenly and forcing herself to maintain the look of abject boredom.
Irritated with the interruption to his work, Katsuro slid his fingers under the wrappings, hooking them to pull them down around his neck, when he stopped suddenly.
Katsuro cut his eyes over at the silent girl tied to the tree nearby. He frowned, clearly just remembering that she was there. He sullenly pushed his face wraps back into place and continued his work.
Sakura sighed and slumped her shoulders. There was no reason to hide her disappointment now. She sighed loudly and lolled her head from side to side.
There were other breaks in the monotony, although those were equally as unwelcome as playing morbid games of guess-your-captor.
Injured men trickled into the little campsite throughout the day. They came, one by one, begging for a little relief from the general malaise that mysteriously plagued them through the night.
Katsuro refused each one of them, growing more irritated every time. Eventually he could barely get another kunai sharpened before he was interrupted again.
"She won't heal you! Go away," he bellowed finally at just the sound of footsteps coming through the woods.
Sakura held her amusement in check. She pointedly ignored the first men who started dropping by, not wanting to contribute to captor's foul mood.
But when the same men began appearing a second time, each looking beseechingly around Katsuro to Sakura and holding their stomachs, she knew she would have to deal with them. And the sooner the better. As the pain increased so would the amount of men hanging around the little campsite.
When a man came a third time and Katsuro nearly lobbed his kunai at him, Sakura spoke up.
"It's no problem," she called over to him. Katsuro whipped his head around to glare at her. Her bravado left her for a moment at his fierce look, but she cleared her throat and started again.
"It's no problem to take a look at them. It doesn't take much chakra," she said.
She tipped her head and waited for his response, but he turned back to his work, ignoring both her and the offending patient shuffling on the other side of the fire circle.
"You know, it might just be a cold," she offered innocently, knowing full well that it wasn't.
He didn't look up. She changed tack.
"They'll keep coming back, you know. All night long, too," she said warningly. The man clutching his stomach nodded vigorously.
"If I can treat them now, it won't be too taxing," she said, hoping he would see the wisdom of letting her loose for a little while. He angrily pitched his newly sharpened kunai toward the pile. It embedded itself in the dirt, handle trembling. He reached for another to sharpen.
"But," she drew out, "if I have to wait until the middle of the night, when their pain is much worse…." She sighed for effect. "Well, it will be harder for all of us."
Katsuro growled and angrily threw the unsharpened kunai into the finished pile. It clanged loudly when it hit. He stomped over to the girl, never making eye contact, and ripped the bindings loose from behind the tree.
Winding back around to the front, Katsuro glared at her. "Do what you need to do. Then get him out of here," he said, pointing to the man across the site.
She nodded once, looking up at him with large green eyes and an expressionless face. It was a carefully constructed mask to cover her triumphant feeling.
She went into med-nin mode and set right to her task. Silently pointing to a fallen tree to sit on, Sakura began to examine the rogue, taking extra time to work her way around to what she knew was his particular injury. Katsuro silently fished the dull kunai out of the sharpened pile and resumed his work.
Soon another man appeared, clutching his midsection, hoping to press his luck with the unhappy Katsuro and his captive medic. Another came, then another. Before long, word had spread through the unwell that Sakura was accepting patients, despite Katsuro's foul mood.
She instructed them where to sit, in order of symptom, thinking merrily to herself that she was the source of their problems. Back at home it had always suited Sakura to be working. But now she was doubly grateful to have a task to occupy her time, knowing that the alternative was being tied to a tree.
Katsuro resumed sharpening his weapons and ignored them all. Sakura and the rest of the men gave him a wide berth.
The previous day, Sakura had tried to vary the injuries she inflicted, but they all presented in the morning with symptoms in the same area. This was acceptable, she thought, because they would suspect a minor virus before looking any further. However, it would limit how much more damage she could do without giving herself away.
She set about easing the pain of the largest complaints and prolonging the unwell feelings of those least sick. This would buy her a little more time, but not as much as she'd hoped. Biting her lip, Sakura sheathed her hands in healing chakra and refocused on injury in front of her.
Nearby, relishing the silence and meditating on the uniform smoothness of the newly polished weapon in his hand, Katsuro thought about the fragments of his day, shattered before it had even begun. Exhaustion followed by no breakfast, the antagonizing bastards at camp then receiving marching orders. He set the weapon down and reached for another kunai.
It stung that he was the only one to get punished when those men clearly deserved a good thrashing. And then for the old captain to say that Itachi was not pleased and that it would take longer to get anything worthwhile out of her…. Katsuro shook his head in disagreement.
But both jabs were essentially the same: That he made a poor choice in selecting her. That he had been swayed by a pretty face and her little prank.
Katsuro watched the kunoichi quietly work on his companions. The edges of her slender hands glowed a soft green. A curtain of pink hair tipped forward over her face. She paused, caught the offending lock and curled it behind her ear, then returned to her work, never breaking concentration.
Looking down at the kunai in his own hands, Katsuro hooked the loop with his fingers and spun it around a few times before sharpening it.
Sure, his assignment was to pick someone from the same team as their target, Itachi's younger brother. And he thought her pulling a prank on her teammate was a good sign. And yeah, he supposed it didn't hurt that she was much nicer to look at than the rest of his bunch.
But that wasn't why he chose her.
Katsuro thought back to the first time he saw her, all pink hair and pale skin, tumbling out of that pathetic hiding place. Her arrogant teammate standing aside to let her fall. But she picked herself up and gave it right back to him. Yeah, he laughed softly to himself, he could understand that, .
Katsuro ran the kunai through a cloth in his palm, the dull grey edge polished away. Now a thin bead of silver gleamed down both sides of the blade.
He pictured her wicked little smile before she whipped her teammate, knowing that it was a triumph, if only just a small one, over someone who so clearly had it out for her.
'I think she knows more than she realizes,' he thought with his own small smile. 'Those kinds of people should never be underestimated.'
Katsuro pushed all the other thoughts away. There was no doubt in his mind he'd made the right choice. If Itachi needed more time to retrieve information from her, then so be it. He plunged the weapon into the soft earth and reached for another.
Sakura worked quietly through the late afternoon, hands glowing in the deepening shadows. A few times she noticed Katsuro pause and look over, but she assumed it was to make sure she wasn't going to escape. He carried on as if having a hostage heal men in camp was the most normal thing in the world. But being left alone seemed to improve his mood, she decided.
A metallic clang drew Sakura's attention. She looked up from a patient to see Katsuro had dropped his last sharpened weapon onto the pile. He stopped a recently healed man on his way out of camp and spoke to him quietly. The man nodded once then departed, and Katsuro came to stand at her shoulder and watch her work.
"How much longer will it take?" he said softly, in between patients.
She looked down at the last few men. "Not too much longer."
"How are you holding up?"
It wasn't a personal question. Sakura remembered Itachi's command to refrain from healing the men. Katsuro was checking to make sure she hadn't gone beyond anything noticeable.
"Fine," she said crisply. "I haven't wasted too much chakra." Katsuro just nodded.
'Well,' she thought with a small sigh, 'at least he wasn't blistering mad anymore.'
Katsuro repacked his weapons in his rucksack then squatted to start a little fire for extra light. Sakura waved over the last patient. He sat in front of her on the fallen tree, facing her, and pointed to his collarbone.
But the sound of a twig snapping interrupted her work.
Out of the evening gloom, two more men approached the campsite. Sakura thought they might have been straggler patients, but the two stopped just beyond the fire circle.
She recognized them immediately: Raiden, the tall, burly one from the main camp who had given Katsuro some problems and his lanky friend, Fumio, looking even thinner in his ill-fitting fatigues. Fumio twirled something cylindrical in his hand.
They had a threatening air about them. Unsure if it was a trick of the low light, Sakura cut her eyes at Katsuro. One look confirmed it.
Katsuro rose slowly from the sputtering campfire and stared them down. Hands on his hips, he anticipated trouble. She was in agreement. These men were up to no good.
After a few moments, Raiden nodded to his companion. Fumio stepped forward with what appeared to be an important-looking scroll. He rolled it tauntingly in his long thin, fingers.
Katsuro exhaled and broke the stand off. He stepped toward the man, hand opened expectantly. But Raiden snatched the missive out of Fumio's hand before he could toss it to Katsuro.
"No food," Raiden drawled. "Looked around, couldn't find anything." His tone made Sakura think he probably didn't look very far.
"But Itachi left you this," he said, and pitched the unfurling scroll to Katsuro.
Katsuro narrowed his eyes and thumbed the broken seal, then angrily flicked it open with one hand.
Half-hidden by her patient, Sakura silently observed the scene from her seat on the fallen tree. She had slowed her healing to keep the glow from her hand as unobtrusive as possible. But there was still a faint pulse in the darkness.
The man she was working on seemed as nervous as she was. His breathing had increased and, flaring the chakra at her fingertips for a quick read, his vital signs were subtly ramping up. He kept darting his eyes back over his shoulder, anxious to see what was going on in the darkness behind him.
Sakura flicked her gaze back out to the fire but was surprised to find Raiden's intimidating glare fixed squarely on her. A little more green chakra seeped out past the her fingertips from the perceived threat, illuminating her face slightly. The man's fist tightened.
"What's she doing," Raiden growled, pointing in her direction.
Her patient's heart rate spiked, but Sakura clamped her hand down on his shoulder to keep him from bolting.
"Almost done," she murmured. She wanted to keep him there until this was all over. He was a good shield in case a fight broke out. And if his fluttering heart rate was any indication, he was well aware of his vulnerability too.
"I wonder what Itachi-san would say," Fumio began, "if he found out she was—" Katsuro cut him off.
"Since you've already taken the liberty," he said, shaking the opened scroll, "alert the rest of the men, and be ready tomorrow. And when you tell him about the her," he said, thumbing back at the girl, "make sure you tell him you opened his scroll too. He'll be very interested to know!"
Furious, Raiden spit at the ground just in front of Katsuro's feet. "You're nothing special," he sneered.
But Fumio apparently thought otherwise. He backed away as if a fuse had been lit.
The firelight cast strange shadows across Katsuro, wavering over his trembling fists and tight shoulders as if strapping him back. The red glow of the flames reflected dangerously in his eyes, rendering them almost inhuman.
"Get out of my sight," Katsuro said, biting off every word, his voice nearly hoarse from restrained fury. Raiden must have decided he'd pushed Katsuro far enough. He laughed meanly and swung around to go. But he shot a scathing look at the kunoichi before he tromped loudly back through the woods.
"You're done," Sakura said flatly to her patient and lifted her hand from her his shoulder. The man nearly tumbled off the log in his hurry to get away from there. He cut a wide swath around Katsuro and the campfire.
Sakura watched the space between the trees where the men disappeared and quietly weighed her options.
She could take advantage of Katsuro's preoccupation and make a break for it now. But if he caught her, he'd probably kill her just out of spite. Or she could press her luck and strike up a conversation with him, and perhaps her sympathy could earn her a little more trust and freedom. Then she could truly slip away undetected.
Sakura made her choice. She dusted her hands and walked to the small fire. Katsuro stood unmoving, staring into the low flames, hands still balled into angry fists.
Sakura silently meditated on what she'd learned. They hated her, naturally, but they seemed to hate him too.
Her stomach growled suddenly, and Sakura raised a hand self-consciously to her stomach. Katsuro snorted at her, but her discomfort seemed to distract him from his present anger. He turned and left her standing at the fire to stow the scroll in his pack.
Sakura thought this was probably as good a time as any to pry for information.
"So…. Are they supposed to be your teammates?"
The only response was the clinking of weapons together in his rucksack.
"Why are they so hard on you?" Still no answer.
She sighed. If he didn't want to talk to her, then maybe she could draw him out another way.
"In my village, the emphasis is on teamwork and partnership for maximum—"
"You were just playing ninja then," he said quietly, still kneeling at his pack. "Now you're in over your head, and you don't even know it."
"What?" she said frowning. That wasn't the answer she was expecting.
"Your village, Konoha," he bit off the name, "is fully aware of your capabilities, or lack of them, and have already labeled you a missing nin." He refastened his pack and stood to face her. "You are not worth coming for. And your spot on that inept little team has probably already been filled."
Sakura looked stricken for a moment, then waved him off. He obviously had no idea how a strategic military force worked.
"Don't be ridiculous. There is a protocol for retrieval," she said condescendingly. "My teammate is one of the strongest in our village. I'm sure he and my sensei are on their way right now."
Hands on his hips, Katsuro laughed mirthlessly at her.
"If you were stupid enough to get caught, then make no mistake they will never come for you." He rounded on her, his voice chilling. "They will forget you and leave you to die by our hands. And if your Sasuke Uchiha is so strong, then they would never send him to fetch his irresponsible teammate. He is a tool to be closely guarded by the Leaf and used only for their purposes."
The kunoichi clenched her fist and stepped away from the fire, feeling unreasonably warm.
"You know nothing of my team or of Konoha," she growled back. "They will never give up. They're on the way right now."
Katsuro's only recently cooled anger flared right back up again.
"No! It is you who know nothing about your own village. How they throw away the ones who do not serve their purposes or crush the ones who stand in their way." Dark shadows pooled on his face.
"You think so highly of your team? Well let me enlighten you as to why you, a medic-nin who cannot even watch her own back, were paired with an elite clan member. You were put on that team as the target."
He was speaking quietly but he might as well have been yelling. The horrid truth of his words were sinking in, and her defiant facade was crumbling.
"You are the weakest one, so you're the one to be taken out first, alerting him so he can escape. You're the one who falls into the trap laid for him. Your life will be extinguished so that your teammate will live. Think your village is so great now? Your duty is to be the sacrifice. You are expendable, replaceable…." He locked on her wide green eyes to drive the point home. "Forgettable."
"And it's our bad luck that we're stuck with you now."
She blinked away tears and shut him out, whipping her head away toward the fire. Words had left her.
No, no, it couldn't be true. She shook her head in mute denial, pressing her lips together to hold back the tears.
Katsuro watched the revelations crash on her, his cooling anger replaced by disgust at his own behavior. She was just a pawn as well. There was no victory here.
Yes, he hated Konoha, he hated what they did and how they treated people like her, crushing those who did not serve their purpose. But he also hated the way he sounded when he was talking to her, brutal and unforgiving, an echo of the other men in his camp.
"I wasn't lying when I said there's been no sign of them," he continued quietly. "Whatever life you had before, it's over. Whatever you did for your village, whatever sacrifices you made...well, it wasn't enough. They're not coming for you."
Katsuro drew a tired breath and ducked inside the tent, leaving her alone by the fire.
It would have been an opportunity to run, but Sakura couldn't move. Her world was collapsing in on itself. Everything he said made perfect sense. The inequity of strength and skill, the way they treated her as the dead weight on the team.
Sakura's tears glinted in the flickering light. Her shoulders dropped. Her whole body seemed to be sinking under the weight of it all. Her captor had finally left her alone, but his implication clear: She wasn't even worth guarding any more.
She had been abandoned, and she knew it now.
A gravelly noise broke through her haze. Katsuro stood beside her with a thin blanket roll in his hand.
"Sleep in there," he said quietly, pointing to the tent. "I'll be out here. We're leaving in the morning."
She wiped her hands down her face and silently went to the tent, feeling more alone than she ever thought was possible. She crawled under the blanket, pulled herself into a ball and wept.
Outside, the fire crackled and hissed. Katsuro put anything he could find into the tiny inferno, trying dispiritedly to drown out the sound of her crying in the darkness.
Author's Notes
Thanks so much for insane amount of activity - visitors and reviews, faves and alerts. It warms my heart and my aching fingers. I wanted to read a N/S story that was a little more drawn out and had a stronger sense of place to it. Couldn't find it, decided to write it - I've since learned this is how most writers start. They can't find the story in their head, obviously, so they in turn write it out! So tell me, am I hitting my mark? Do you feel like it is a real place you could sink into, does the story give you a clear picture of their surroundings? (The K(N)/S characters are still developing, so I'll ask you about them later!) More notes at my website (link in bio). Please review and let me know what you think!
Chapter Notes:
• "Katsuro!" a man's voice boomed from the edge of one of the large campaign tents. — This little bit shows his Naruto side of balking at authority. The man who is giving orders is a captain under Itachi. No one important, but it's mentioned to help illustrate a little of the heirarchy of the group. It will help Sakura understand how the group operates, and what Katsuro's role in it is. More about that in upcoming chapters.
• "It would have been an opening to run, but Sakura couldn't move. Her world was collapsing in on itself. Everything he said made perfect sense. The inequity of strength and skill, the way they treated her as the dead weight on the team." — Sakura has to see her village from his point of view, question it, feel some doubt. It allows her to bond with him in the short term, and forces her to come to some strong decisions about who she supports in the long term. A village and it's policies, for better or for worse, or a rogue who's never lived by anyone's rules but his own.
• Outside, the fire crackled and hissed. Katsuro put anything he could find into the tiny inferno, trying dispiritedly to drown out the sound of her crying in the darkness. — when puts anything into the fire. Katsuro will have a hard time with her crying. He hates to hear it, thinks it's weak. But it is more about his experiences than it has to do with hers. More to come.
Edited 9/14/12; 5/13/20