Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Chapter 5

A sole patient awoke suddenly in an empty room and tried desperately to scream, but her throat had been rendered useless, raw and burning with each inaudible noise and pained swallow. She was restrained to a small bed in a stark white hospital room, bound in four-point restraints to pin her wrists and ankles.

She whipped her head from side to side in a frenzy, immediately freezing upon seeing a curtain of pink fall over her left eye. It was strange and unnerving to consider having pink hair, of all colors.

Her joints ached in protest with every movement, as if she had been struggling against them for hours-even days-yet she hadn't the slightest idea why. She didn't recognize the room; she couldn't remember anything about how she had ended up in such a predicament.

Each attempt at recollection of who or where she was only drove her further into a skull-splitting headache, her mind overcast in a thick layer of fog similar to treading in quicksand for answers.

Hot, searing pain blossomed over her abdomen from the thrashing, a shocking display of slow pooling red on her white hospital gown right above her navel. Lips parted in surprise; the pink-haired patient couldn't help but stare down at it in horrified wonder.

Was I in an accident? A fight?

Blood. Why was there so much blood?

The red seemed to seep up to her breasts and then her neck, covering more and more surface area the heavier her breathing became. It quickly covered her entire body, pooling off her and splashing to the floor. The entire room became bathed in blood; it rained from the ceilings and cascaded down from the window across from her.

A series of images began their onslaught on her fragile mental state, eyes snapping shut in terror as a slew of explosions and corpses filled every corner of her mind. There were walls of fire that singed her hair, the stench of burning flesh mixing with the coppery mountains of death all around her caused a harsh influx of bile to rise to her throat.

The cardiac monitor she was hooked up to started alarming with her imminent panic attack, heart rate reaching far into triple digits. The shrill beeping along with the door swinging open fell on deaf ears as Sakura writhed against her restraints, trapped in her own confusing memories.

"Sakura…Sakura!" A man's voice accompanied large hands that grasped her shoulders, holding her in place. Hot tears gathered in her eyes, blurring the man out of sight completely. She didn't even know if that were her real name.

Her trembling hands ripped out of the restraints with an audible snap; she grabbed fistfuls of his matching gown, pulling his body down and cementing his chest against her own heaving one. Her nails dug into the cold flesh of the unknown man's back, his own hands sliding up to gather in her hair.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured into her ear, the desperate edge to his voice doing little to put her at ease. He seemed just as shaken as she was, slowly crushing her small frame to his until she was breathing in gasps.

"I'm sorry," he sounded miserable in a blank, defeated way. Her shoulders shook with force of her sobs as a hoarse cry ripped free from her throat. "I'm sorry."

..

Sakura sprang forward in bed, an entanglement of bunched silk sheets and tousled damp pink waves as she clutched at her aching chest. The dream had felt so real it could have been a memory, yet she didn't recall it ever happening at all.

Her hands slipped up to her wet cheeks before pressing into her throbbing temples, letting the blanket gather in a pool around her bare hips. Her head was fucking pounding.

The festival.

Face scrunched up in confusion, she desperately tried to remember what had transpired after the excessive number of shots they had taken prior to leaving her apartment. Sighing, she slowly rose from the comfort of her bed, craving a massive glass of water to dull the ringing in her ears.

Wrapping a sheet around herself, she trudged her way into the kitchen to do just that, groaning at the way her knees buckled under the lack of nutrition she had deprived herself from over the last few days. It was a wonder she could even stand upright at the moment.

She had spoken too soon.

She exited the kitchen the same time the bathroom door opened, leaving her to face an impressively naked Mashiro for what seemed like the longest moment of her entire life. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, his head tilting to the side, a sheepish smile dancing across his features.

"I couldn't find a towel," he chuckled lightly, running a hand through his wet white hair before allowing it to cascade over his chest. Widened green eyes followed the droplets of water as they trailed down his chest and between his impeccably defined abs.

The water glass collided with the hard floor as soon as her eyes landed on the length of his member, the explosion of glass as startling as the shade of pink that darted out across her cheeks. Sakura was made acutely aware of just how sore she really was: her neck all the way down to her sex ached.

Oh, Gods.

Her hands quickly clasped over her mouth to muffle the gasp that tore its way through her throat, not realizing that she was completely naked underneath until the sheet fell to her feet. Mashiro's eyebrow shot up with amusement as she scrambled forward to cover herself.

Sakura hissed in pain when the glass sliced through the bottoms of her feet, reflexively lurching further forward to alleviate the pain. Blood smeared beneath her, feet sliding as she moved.

A large arm snaked around the bottom of her ass, lifting her feet off the ground and planting her bare breasts on his shoulder as Mashiro rose from his knees where he had quickly dropped down to catch her.

"I can just heal them!" Sakura shrieked, her embarrassing morning knowing no bounds. Mashiro sighed against her waist, his hot breath erupting a flurry of goosebumps across her skin.

"Don't you have to clean it first?" She held her face in her hands as they made their way toward the bathroom, reaching out to snatch a towel out of the closet on the way. "I'll try not to look."

Her hand smacked his back in protest, and before she knew it, they were sitting in the large shower together, Sakura wedged between Mashiro's legs as if they were in a tub. She glanced at his bloodied knees, a wave of guilt passing over her.

He leaned over her shoulder, chin resting in the crook of her neck as he took hold of her left foot to gently remove the glass shards before moving onto the next. Sakura's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his breath trickling over her neck, the hot water on her chest doing little to calm the fire that quickly spread through her body.

Red quickly shifted to pink circling the drain; healing herself was a simple and effective task. Pink brows furrowed together upon re-examining his knees: they had already healed on their own. With her chin jutted up to question him with her eyes, he merely shrugged in response.

"My family comes from a unique clan; we're known to regenerate fairly quickly." Sakura couldn't help but feel he was leaving something largely important out, but she didn't press the issue, she was far too tired.

A soft green glow illuminated her fingertips at her temples next, driving away the hangover that plagued her. An audible groan escaped her lips, finally giving in and leaning into his chiseled chest. Mashiro's smile deepened against her shoulder.

"How much did we actually drink last night?" Sakura wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer but couldn't bear to sit in silence after their morning.

"Hmmm," his lips moved against her skin in a way that made her want to melt into him. "I have no idea, I felt pretty awful when I woke up, I only remember bits and pieces," he mused.

Sakura reached her hands up behind her, softly pressing into his cheeks and unleashing the same relieving power on him. She could feel the low growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest as his hangover slipped away.

"I don't remember anything," she murmured, annoyed with her own carelessness. She drew her knees up her chest, resting her head on top.

"Do you want to?" Mashiro's voice was deep-seductive even-a large hand brushing her long waterlogged pink locks to the side to bring his mouth to her neck. "I can help you," he whispered into the soft flesh before lightly biting down on the sensitive area.

She inhaled sharply, reflexively turning her chin up to give him better access before lolling back to its former position. The exhaustion was flooding in with the warmth of the man behind her and steam from the hot shower.

Before they both knew it, her breathing slowed into that of a deep sleep that was so beyond her control it felt like he had purposely put her in a trance.

..

Sakura awoke to the sun setting into her eyes, a wild flash of orange and gold bursting through the blinds parallel to where she lay curled up on her side in bed. She felt more rested than she had in years, blinking back the dreamless fog from her mind with arms reached out above her head in a lengthy stretch.

Green eyes danced around the room, unsure if it were relief or disappointment that sank in at the realization that she was the only one in her apartment. Mashiro had snuck out at some point; he had cared for her wounds and held her until she fell asleep.

Or had he put her to sleep?

Sakura shook her head, physically clearing her mind of the absurd thoughts. It was better this way-better not to remember or know-and she didn't blame him. She had a habit of losing people, of pushing people who presumably cared for her promptly out of her life.

She was the problem, not them. It was better to just accept it and move on.

Still, she couldn't help the pang that blossomed within her chest at the realization, a true testament to her ineptitude with relationships of all sorts. Lady Tsunade, Kakashi, even Naruto would soon grow tired of trying to deal with her mountain of issues and join them in their absolute abandonment. She could only blame herself.

Sighing, Sakura slid out of bed and into her new attire, the recent change to the backless jumpsuit doing little to boost her confidence today. She cursed her girlish feelings; she was a grown ass woman who could take care of herself.

Her arms jerked into the sleeves of her white coat; she figured if she was going to be plagued by negative thoughts it would serve her right to dive into her usual routine of burying her nose back into her work. Any distraction was a good distraction.

A singular red rose caught her attention from the corner of her eye, the tightening in her chest causing her lips to twist into a scowl. She ignored the neatly folded note beside it, pushing her way out of the door and straight into the chest of an announced visitor who stood waiting on her porch.

If he weren't masked, the anbu operatives' scrutinizing gaze would have been plain as the day that was quickly slipping behind the trees. Sakura pushed past him, knowing he was only there to observe and spy, not to directly interfere with her personal life.

Damn you, Naruto.

There was a solid twenty-five feet between them before he finally called out to her.

"Sakura, there is an urgent matter at hand," he began, jogging to catch up to her furious pace. She didn't turn to acknowledge him; if Naruto wanted another ramen intervention, he would have to do it himself.

"There is a class S medical emergency-" Sakura whipped around to face him, cutting him off with the ferocious glare pointed in his direction. Class S only meant one thing: a high-profile individual was critically injured.

"Who?" she hissed, annoyed he hadn't spoken up sooner.

"Hatake Kakashi," she gave him no time to finish the briefing, instead taking off toward the hospital. Chakra pumped into her feet, providing a rush of inhuman speed to match her ragged breathing.

Sure, her former sensei was the appointed leader of the anbu and root operatives after the death of Danzo and destruction of the hierarchy he attempted to instill before his demise; he was a prime target.

But who could actually follow through with it?

Sakura stood before the silver-haired man in mere minutes, boring into his disheveled state with a feeling that could only be described as utter dread. She hadn't seen him since the conclusion of the war, not so much as a letter had been shared between them. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

"Sakura…" his broken voice was enough to puncture her heart with one-thousand needles. The pain was unbearable. "Do you remember me?" Sadness was quickly replaced with confusion at his words; was he delirious?

His hair was matted to his face, bloodied silver framing the familiar sharp jawline she knew so well that in made her knees buckle. Switching into her medical provider role, calculating green eyes scanned over his bare torso, landing on a large gash that stretched across the length of his trunk.

The gash was a distorted black and purple, the thick yellow pus oozing out unlike any infection she had ever seen in her medical career. She had seen necrotizing fasciitis once before-a disease that ate away at the hosts own flesh and was highly contagious.

This was different.

She passed over his eyes with a sedating effect, relieving him of the pain she was sure he felt. It was the least she could do.

The wound was isolated, eating its way in instead of outward. The fluid seemed to move on its own, burning a slow torturous path through its victim. She was suddenly glad Kakashi was in a comatose state; she couldn't imagine the level of pain this would cause a fully alert human being.

Her slender hands ignited in a wild green glow, passing over his body to no avail. There had to be a corrosive poisonous concoction involved. Sweat beaded at her pink brows while she worked, the frustration creeping in waves.

There was nothing she could do for this but keep him sedated.

The other medics hung their heads low, having already tried everything they could think of before her arrival. Sakura's hands trembled as she splayed them out over the nightstand near his bed, mind in a frenzy.

"You can't fix him, can you?" Naruto's pained whisper sliced through her life a hot knife in butter, her shoulders sagging in response. She been here only a few short hours, already expending more than an appropriate amount of chakra on a single patient.

Naruto's hand clamped down onto her shoulder; she was too tired to shake him off. It was comforting, yet she resented what she knew he was about to say.

"This is a direct attack on the village," he began, a chill running down her spine like an icy current. "This person could have targeted any operative, yet they only went after Kakashi-sensei." His broken voice sounded less like the Hokage and more life her former teammate, a scared and confused child.

"Do you think they're targeting the village leaders?" Sakura was wise to keep er voice low so only he could hear, the rest of the medics clearing the room to provide them with privacy.

"There's no other explanation, neither of us is safe." She observed the way he pinched the bridge of his nose, saddened by the immense responsibility he had taken on. Sakura wondered if he thought becoming Hokage was worth it in the end.

She turned her eyes back toward Kakashi's still form, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life emitting from him. She pulled up a stool and fastened her hair to rest at the nape of her neck. She would have to try to extract the poison the same way she had for Kankuro in the land of the sand.

It was minimally effective, the streaks of black doing little to alleviate the swarm of puckering purple flesh surrounding the wound. His heartrate seemed to improve slightly, and that was enough to satisfy her momentarily.

"Sakura, you have to take a break" Naruto was back again; she hadn't the slightest idea what time it was or how long she had been there working on her sole patient. She rocked back onto her heels, swaying before finally leaning into her former teammate's shoulder.

She was fading in and out, threatening to succumb to the darkness that crept into the corners of her vision.

"You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours, Sakura-chan," Naruto murmured into her hair. He smelled like ramen; she was delirious with hunger and sleep exhaustion.

She stumbled to her office to pick up her things before making her way out to the hallway, unsure if she was hearing correctly or if it were her mind playing tricks on her.

"We'll call for an immediate lockdown, call all our special forces operatives in and appoint them to the village leaders," Naruto spoke low to Shikamaru, who nodded in approval before responding. "The village will be under strict no entry nor exit protocol, we'll strengthen the wall security. Nobody moves without permission."

Sakura didn't want to think of the backlash that would arise so soon after the festival, she didn't have the capacity for it at the moment. She exited the facility without a second glance, dragging her feet as she made her way through the village to her apartment.

She couldn't sense anyone following her, probably due to the heightened security at the borders and disarray within the village. It was strangely uncomfortable with everything that had transpired tonight, she found herself missing the added security in her trek home.

Blinking once-then twice-she carried on with her arms wrapped around herself. The breeze sank into her like a bad omen to come, goosebumps erupting down her arms the further she drew into the empty village.

The lamp post in front of her suddenly splintered, glass exploding into hundreds of tiny sharps in every which direction, snuffing out the light nearest to her. Green eyes widened against the sudden onslaught of darkness, straining to see directly in front of her. Living at the end of the street definitely had its cons; this was the only illumination she had before her walkway.

Sakura slid into a fighting stance, snapping awake with a fresh mix of fear and adrenaline. A low growl echoed in the distance; it seemed to surround her as she slowly turned in a circle. She didn't dare move toward her house for fear of instigating her attacker, instead staying incredibly still.

This seemed to satisfy whatever was before her, and before long she could see a pair of red eyes in the distance. The red irises triggered a reflexive fear within her, a feeling only the Uchiha family could instill in her. She slapped a hand over her eyes despite her common sense telling her not to, crouching down low to the ground.

The growling became louder and louder still as it neared her, willing her to run away. She had no other choice, doing just that. Feet pounded into the gravel, rocks kicking up everywhere as she sprinted in what she figured was the direction of her home, using muscle memory to carry her along.

A snarl gripped the air behind her, a hot rush of air gusting over the back of her neck as she lunged forward, narrowly missing the snap of teeth that followed. She crashed into the potted plants at the foot of a stairwell, instantly recognizing the lavender that had been planted. Her lavender.

She scrambled up the steps in a frenzy, all hands and feet until she came to the top. Making a beeline for the door, she collided with a large figure, sucking in a breath in preparation to scream. A large hand clamped over her lips, muffling her attempt and driving her back against the door.

The figure was extremely powerful, the sheer force of their large frame against hers a stark contrast to her meek struggling. She charged a deadly influx of chakra into her fists, landing two blows to their ribs. A satisfactory crack sounded beneath her fist before they took hold of both her wrists and slammed them into the door above her head with a grunt.

A searing hot pain erupted where he gripped her, she couldn't help the whimper that built in her throat. Both of her wrists were at risk of fracturing, her attacker seemed to notice, and much to her surprise they loosened their grip.

Sakura panicked, driving her knee up into their abdomen, using the momentum to slam her foot backward into the door. The wood splintered under the pressure before finally collapsing, their bodies falling backward onto the cold tile of her kitchen floor.

The weight of their frame crashed down upon her, driving the air from her lungs in a pained gasp. The impact had her discombobulated and wheezing, gasping for air as her hands slapped against the floor on either side of her.

The person was off her in an instant, sliding what she assumed was her cabinet by the screeching of wood on tile over the open doorway in the form of a barricade. Sakura scrambled backwards, outwardly cursing at the wave of pain that came from putting weight on her wrists.

They shuffled against the wall before finally finding the switch to the lamp near the couch. The glow cast an eerily dark hue over the face of her assailant. It was still dark enough that her mind could have been playing tricks on her; she couldn't believe her eyes.

Sasuke Uchiha was standing five feet from her in her very own kitchen.

"What are you doing here, Uchiha," she spat at the man who stood a few short feet away, already suffocating under his hardened onyx eyes and whatever emotion crossed over them that he didn't deserve to direct down at her.

He took a tentative step forward, causing her to reflexively shuffle backward to widen the distance, groaning at the rush of pain she had all but forgotten in her shocked stupor.

Sakura held her hands out in front of her frowning face, the reddened ring encircling the distorted bony joints at the base of her hands another notch in her building distress at the proximity to the man. She made quick work of the dislocations, an audible pop to each followed by the warm green glow of her own chakra before bringing the limbs back to normal.

Sasuke seemed beside himself as he watched her, those damned dark eyes swimming with anger and guilt; an emotion she rarely saw and chose not to acknowledge.

"I didn't mean to," he breathed; his voice was deeper than she remembered, husky and pained as he moved his large fingers through his long black hair.

Sasuke was dressed in a long black and tan cloak, thick headband fastened around his forehead to keep his long raven-colored hair out of his eyes, instead brushing the tops of his shoulders. He had certainly grown, towering over her and broadened in musculature. Green eyes averted their gaze toward to ground; she didn't care what he looked like, it had been years and she was not the same person he once knew.

"You never do, do you?" it was barely a whisper, she hadn't meant to speak the words out loud. Sakura rose to her feet and threw her white coat over the arm of the couch, crossing her arms in defiance.

Whether he meant to or not, she could feel his eyes on every inch of her, even without the sharingan activated it made her squirm. Sasuke Uchiha clearly wasn't used to seeing her dressed this way; his chakra flared and twisted at the revelation of her mesh plunging neckline and sweat-dampened fabric clinging to her frame.

"Sakura, I-" Sasuke started toward her, but she moved around to stand behind the couch like a trapped animal. She was tired. She didn't want to deal with his antics, not tonight. Not ever again.

"Get out," she refused to feel guilty for her behavior-he deserved it-she couldn't stand the way he was looking at her.

"I can't," dark eyes resumed their casual stoicism, void of the flurry of emotions that had just recently swam in them. It seemed he finally remembered who he was.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He glanced at the broken doorway as if it were obvious, he was here to be her bodyguard. The words Naruto spoke back at the hospital rattled in her brain. Call in all the special operatives. Lucky for her, their leader just so happened to be her own personal stalker.

"And if I run?" She was testing his patience, and it was working. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation but didn't answer, a moment of uncomfortable silence falling between the two.

"I'll find you," he spoke so plainly, but the words were incredibly sharp. Reality dawned on her, pulling her lips into a thin line. Sakura moved past him toward the door, she didn't care if it was childish to test his theory, she couldn't live like this. His long calloused fingers encircled her wrist, whirling her around to face him.

"Trying to break it this time?" she snarled up at him.

He released her immediately as if he had been physically burned by her words. She watched his sharp jawline tighten as he teetered on the lines of loosing control. Knowing it had been an accident-she was going too far-but she couldn't stop herself.

"And what if I have male company over? Will you stay and watch?" that was the last straw. She immediately regretted her words as they slipped past her lips; it was a filthy thing to say to anyone, much less him.

White and black bled into a familiar angry swirl of a red pinwheel, his opposite eye which hosted the violet rinnegan turning dangerously fast. She shoved him where she knew she had given him a pair of broken ribs, his throaty grunt all she heard as she promptly turned toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Sakura sat in the shower, a stark contrast from just this morning which now felt an eternity away, where there once had been comfort and relief was now shrouded in despair. Silent tears disappeared into the water that rained down on her from above as she rocked back and forth on the tile ground.

A few short years ago she would've fallen at the feet of the man in her living room. That was before he had shoved his fist through her chest thousands of times in a loop. She spent years and years in that single minute, trapped under those horrible eyes, enduring unimaginable heartbreak.

She didn't know which was worse, his blatant initial rejection immediately after the war, or the psychological warfare of the abrupt possessiveness that followed. There was no rightful explanation, no conversation to be had. Sasuke had warped into this shifty beast, hellbent on forcing his way into her life after he made it crystal clear she was unwanted so many times before.

Nothing made sense, and she hated it. She hated him.

Sighing, she pushed her way out of the bathroom after what seemed like hours. She wasn't used to having overnight visitors, especially the infamously anti-conversational last Uchiha. Wrapped in a towel with her damp pink locks nestled in a large clip, she inched forward.

She froze in the doorway, Sasuke was reading the note on her bedside table, much to her humiliation. Her private life was hers and hers alone; she didn't need anyone-especially someone as dangerous and unstable as the last Uchiha-knowing her personal business.

Sakura's feet quickly plodded onto the floor, leaving wet footprints in their wake. She snatched the note from his unsuspecting fingertips; he had not even noticed her presence until that very moment.

"What do you think you're doing?" she was all but yelling now, hands trembling in anger in congruence with her heaving chest. If only looks could kill. His chin jutting to the side in resemblance of a child, caught in the act and refusing to respond.

"Sasuke, you can't just come into my home and act like you belong here!" her voice continued to rise. His lips parted before snapping shut again, further infuriating her. She angrily stepped up to him, craning her neck all the way back to meet his eyes.

"Why are you even here! Why are you doing this to me!?" The Uchiha's arms were around her instantly, crushing her body to his. She could feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric that separated them.

Sakura couldn't stifle the gasp as they fell to the ground, Sasuke collapsing to his knees and much too powerful to break free, and so she unwillingly slid down with him with both arms pinned to her sides. What massive chakra he had masked came pouring out in a dense wave, circling around the pair like a tomb.

"I came to protect you," he breathed into the crook of her exposed neck, shoulders sagging, head hung low enough to reach her. She didn't recognize this man; this person was not the Sasuke she knew.

"I…I'm not good at this," he began, Sakura nearly choked on the lump that rose to her throat. "It's going to be okay." Those words, were they for her or him? Sakura felt like she was choking on them.

She struggled against his grip, trying to pry him off; he was far too big and with more physical prowess than she could ever hope to have. He only tightened his grip the more the struggled.

It was futile.

"Please," he was begging, his voice was so deep and tortured it caused a vibration to rattle down her spine. Sakura didn't want to pity him, she couldn't. Not after what he had put her through. Everything was too real-too painful.

She finally broke.

"I can't do this, I can't do this," Sakura muttered over and over. It was as simple as two damaged people in an empty room, eyes wide in similar despair.

But why, then, did Sakura feel a deep familiarity in this exact situation in the very bottom of her soul? Tear-filled eyes drifted down the note she held in her hand, lips trembling as she read it over. Afterward, she closed her eyes, numb to her surroundings.

...

Sakura,

This storm we have weathered has been nothing short of a dream.

I hope you can hear what I have to say.

You are being followed; I fear you are no longer safe.

Be careful who you trust, not everyone is as they seem.