Chapter Two: Fresh Poison

Sakura's team landed in Kuzu, a small village near the warlord's estate. Her burst of confidence in the sky waned as they descended and fizzled out altogether when they stepped into Sai's inn room. At the small table, he spread his ink bottles and scrolls.

Would you prefer me? he'd asked, after cheerfully nominating Sasuke. They were dear friends. The idea of touching him like that was unsettling, to say the least. Revolting, he'd say, if she asked. But Sasuke was… Sasuke.

"Are you going to watch?" she asked.

Sai's brush paused. "I can leave."

"Stay." Sasuke carried her luggage to the corner of the room and walked to the couch with all the enthusiasm of a man climbing his execution scaffold.

She followed him, and a nervous giggle bubbled forth at the absurdity of their present situation. "Are you sure?"

"It's fine."

This would've been easier with a stranger. She cleared her throat. "I'm going to start."

He shot her a long-suffered look. Get on with it, it seemed to say.

She was eye-level with where his shirt stretched between the hard contours of his chest. He was much too tall. She pressed him into a seated position. "I'm going to—uh— get on." She cringed. Well said.

Sasuke was attempting to bore a hole through her skull with his eyes, so she did. The contrast of his powerful body against hers made her breath catch. They had been the same size as children, but no more. A pleasant woodsy scent, redolent of rain, emanated from him; he always smelled nice at their appointments. "I'm going to—"

"Stop talking."

Cautiously, she grazed her lips against the corner of his jaw, his skin unexpectedly prickly. It hadn't occurred to her that he had to shave. When she threaded her fingers through his hair, he went stock still.

"Was that bad?" She drew back.

Pitch black eyes fixed on her lips. "Hurry up."

"Sorry," she said, willing her pulse too slow. It was just a kiss it was just a kiss— Sakura screwed her eyes shut, bumped a little into his nose, and… found her target, his lips soft against hers. Her eyes fluttered open. His were closed, so she did it again, and it felt warm and nice, like she could melt into him, and curiosity demanded her to cup his jaw, coax his lips to part—

Sasuke shoved her off. "Enough."

Sakura blinked. "How was that?" Her voice was huskier than intended.

He straightened his clothes. "Don't hesitate. You're overthinking." His hoarse tone was so impassive, she wanted to shake him.

"Can you taste it?" she asked.

He looked at her. "Taste what?"

"The poison," she said, startled by how expanded his pupils were. That wasn't right. She checked his wrist pulse: elevated. Wasn't right either. Was he immune to this one too?

"What pois—"

His pulse dropped. Sasuke slumped against the couch.

It worked!

"Sorry I didn't warn you. I wanted to see if you'd catch me." She was a little surprised he hadn't, when she'd taken so long at the crook of his neck to dab the tincture inside her lips. "It feels like getting in a hot tub after a long run, huh?" She sampled all her poisons to build tolerance.

He glared at her, pupils pinpoint.

Oh. He couldn't talk.

Sakura drew chakra to her hand. The muscle fibers of his forearm twitched back to life under the black kana of his seal. "You gave me this one three years ago, after your came back from Suna. " She dug the little crystal vial out from her pocket and smiled brightly. It was quite rare, a favorite in her collection. She passed her palm down the major muscle groups: chest, stomach, thighs—

Sasuke snatched her wrist. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"R-reversing it."

"Leave it."

"What? No." He couldn't walk. "It'll take a second."

He released her hand but watched it as though she were wielding a large kana, and not healing chakra. As soon as she finished, he stalked across the room, dug through his luggage, and slammed the bathroom door shut.

Sakura winced.

"Excellent," Sai said. At the table, he painted surveillance mice, adding to the small army assembled at his feet. "I thought we'd have to turn back."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said, although she did feel a little better. "How long do these missions usually take?"

"Sometimes a few days. Sometimes a few months." Sai shrugged. "Depends on the swallow."

"I see," she said, wishing that she hadn't asked. "Is henge always forbidden?"

"Usually. The big targets like Higa hire sensor-type nin to detect imposters."

Sensor-nin. Before Ino's current stint with the Barrier team, she had a brief but accoladed career with ID. Ino could do this mission in her sleep, and heck if Sakura was going to let her best friend one-up her without a fight.

The bathroom door swung open. Sasuke's collar-length hair was cropped above his ears, the shortest she'd ever seen it. He flung the scissors across the room where they wedged, blade side down, between two bracers in his luggage.

"What?" he snapped, running his hand through hair that wasn't there.

Sakura closed her mouth."You look so…" The style bared his face from temple to jaw. He looked older, and a little mean. "… different."

"That's the point," he said.

When he walked by, she spotted a small tuft of hair he missed. The petty detail brought her comfort, that despite his perfect appearance, he was human too. "I like it."

"Let's go over the plan."


The warlord's estate sprawled over two square acres of tundra, encircled by a wall of cypress trees. Sakura followed the gatekeeper along the central waterway, lined with lush gardens of night jasmine and spay rose in startling bloom. They passed a three-tiered stone fountain, gurgling in the torchlight despite the arid climate.

"Where does the water come from?" Sakura asked.

"Runoff from the snowcaps," the gatekeeper said. He pointed to the western horizon, where a mountain range loomed tall. "The Six Sisters."

She counted. "But there's five peaks."

"Can't see the Little Sister from here." His lips twisted under the beard, and he turned to Sasuke, following them at a distance. "Where did you bring her from? Fire?"

"Earth."

"I'm from a small village," she said quickly, ignoring how much displeasure he managed to pack into a single word.

The main compound stood behind the fountain, an angular structure of alabaster limestone. The foyer was bustling with activity. Footmen and servers carried out armloads of glassware, tables, and torches in preparation for what appeared to be a garden party.

According to the briefing documents, Higa hosted private events limited to his clients and their guests. Courtesans were strictly forbidden from attending, as well as private guards— Higa's security were the only shinobi permitted on the estate.

A man wearing a high-collared robe orchestrated the servants. At their arrival, he turned.

Sasuke inclined his head. "Ito Kyouya, procurer," he said. "This is Tachibana Nanami."

Sakura bowed. "A pleasure to meet you."

The man did not bow. "I'm Tanaka Jun, the butler." He looked to be in his fifties, with broad shoulders and an ample belly. "Do you two have identification?"

Sasuke handed him the falsified documents.

He read through and passed them back. "I apologize for the short notice, but Higa-sama had a work meeting come up for tomorrow. We've had to cancel your lunch."

Relief blossomed in her chest. More time to prepare. She could scope out the estate and plant a mic in his room, while he was away—

"He'd like to meet you tonight. It's a small event for his friends." He didn't extend the invitation to Sasuke.

Sakura willed herself to smile. "Splendid."

"We'll collect you when it's time."

A bellboy led her up the stairs, and her heart fluttered when she passed Sasuke. She hadn't been that physically close with anyone in a long time. Sasuke's face was an impassive mask of professionalism. Of course it was. That's how he'd made captain so quickly. She was the one getting flustered over a kiss.

She wanted a real mission. Now she had one. Time to focus.

They walked past a long hallway of heavy doors, each marked with a female name. At the one labeled Nanami, she stopped him.

"This is me."

When the door swung shut behind the bellboy, Sakura searched the room. Recorders and mics were military tools, but who knew what sort of resources Higa had access to with his wealth?

She checked under the plush bed, footed by two wooden posts carved with twisting phoenixes. She checked the bathroom, around the footed tub. She checked inside the sconces, the drawers, and behind the mirror of the blue-lacquered vanity.

"Room's clean," she said to the mic tucked in her dress. Hopefully, Sai found reception on the roof. "I'm on the third floor of the northern wing in the corner suite."

Sakura pinned her shoulder-length hair into a twist, following the drawing provided in her briefing documents. T he Chief of Disguise , the mastermind behind their costumes, and worked undercover for fifteen years as an informant in Iwagakure's council. Sakura's embroidered white dress, she'd assured her, was the local style for a young woman,

Sakura opened her trunk. Inside, there was a bag of cosmetics in bold and terrifying shades, and no accompanying instructions. Sakura zipped it back. The second recorder— Higa's— she strapped her thigh, and the senbon she slipped into the hollow heel of her sandals. She closed her trunk just as a knock sounded at her door.

"Starting," she whispered to the mic.


A blazing fire pit and mounted torches illuminated the garden, banishing the chill of the evening. Muted conversation carried over the snapping of firewood. Sakura scanned the crowd for blond hair.

Black, brown, black…

She counted two dozen guests. Fashion in Stone was quite distinct from Fire. The women wore vibrant skirts and heavy gold jewelry, and the men wore brimless, embroidered caps over close cropped hair. Explains the haircut.

Sakura wandered over to the long refreshment table before a long, jasmine-entwined trellis. A lone woman perused the bottles. "Good evening." Sakura bowed.

"Good evening." Her hair was pulled to a gloss twist at the nape of her neck, and she smelled of roses and myrrh. Her gaze flitted to Sakura's unadorned neck and ringless fingers. "We've not met. You are new hire?"

"Just started," Sakura said. Not untrue.

"You must be excited. We have celebratory drink?"

Sakura paused. She'd need her wits about her. "I'm not a big drinker."

"Come, come, a drink on his coin." The woman motioned at a crystal decanter and the waiter filled two stout glasses with a finger of a dark gold spirit. "Single malt whisky from Barley. Distiller makes ten barrels a year only. Smell it."

Sakura took the glass and did as she was bid. It smelled sinfully expensive, although of what, she couldn't say.

"Jasmine, cinnamon and red apple," the woman supplied. "Now taste."

Sakura took the tiniest of sips. The alcohol chapped her lips.

The woman nodded eagerly. "Good? Good? Do you taste? Sugar plum and tobacco leaf," she declared.

"Very good. Are you in the whisky industry?"

"Oh, my dream. We come together, but my husband—" she gestured across the garden, where two men stood embroiled in conversation "— likes to talk. So I drink."

The taller of the pair had his back to her, his curling blond hair grazing his collar. Blond. "It was lovely to meet you," Sakura said, setting the her glass down. "Please enjoy your evening."

...

"Found him," Sakura whispered.

The warlord faced the woman's husband— a gentleman with tawny skin and a fry-pan flat face, speaking in heated tones.

She recalled that distant lesson. "Step one!" Anko rapped the blackboard. "Establish vulnerability. Introduce yourself in a compromising situation to disarm the target. Give him the illusion of control. Make him think he's got the upper-hand."

"— can't do this! That's forty million off of our bottom line—"

Sakura swept past Higa and rammed her shoulder into the surly man, splattering his drink all over their clothes.

"Hey! Fuck!" He tented his ruined robe off his chest.

"I— I'm so sorry," Sakura said. "I didn't mean to." She accepted a napkin off a server. "Here let me—"

"Don't touch me," he snarled. He threw his glass on the grass and stomped towards his wife, who hurriedly drained her glass.

"Oh no," Sakura said. "I think I've ruined his jacket." The weight of the warlord's gaze was as palpable as a heavy palm.

"If anything, his jacket ruined the whisky." His intonation betrayed a hint of an eastern accent.

Sakura turned. Higa Masao had an angular face with a proud nose and the shadows of a beard dusting his jaw. He looked far too young to have supplied Konoha with forbidden scrolls since the Sandaime's leadership. "Have you tried it?" he asked.

"Not yet."

He offered her his glass. When she hesitated, he took a sip. "Not poisoned."

He offered it again, and Sakura accepted, willing her eyes not to water. "Sugar plum and tobacco leaf." It tasted like surgical prep to her, but judging by the way Higa's face lit up, he didn't agree.

"Very good," he said. "What's your name?"

"Tachibana Nanami. Pleased to meet you."

"Are you Hideo's?"

"Yes."

His grey eyes flitted over her, stopping at her hair. "This color is uncommon."

He ran a hand through her updo, unraveling her efforts. The hairpins clicked against the tiles, as he twisted her hair around his fingers. If the other guests noticed, they made sure to advert their gaze. His arm snaked around her waist, and his mouth lowered to hers.

Sakura recoiled.

His brows rose.

Oops. "Sorry," she stammered, without pretending. "Just a bit nervous. I've never done this before."

He looked at her wringing hands and deliberated. "Come to my room at midnight. Tell the footman. He'll bring you."

Tonight? Already?

A cold pit settled into her stomach.


A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Meg Thee Stallion for her incredible Sasuke ref which reminded me to come back to this fic after 6 years LOL