Chapter Six: Starving Faithful
"A shadow clone?" Sai asked.
Sakura nodded. They were on the roof of the complex, dawn casting long shadows through the foliage of the garden below. "The chef's apprentice."
"Higa didn't notice?" Sasuke asked.
"Didn't suspect a thing," she said.
"That's twice you've had to save him," Sai said.
Sakura frowned. "Weird, isn't it? He's made it this far doing what he's doing, but as soon as we show up, someone tries to kill him."
Sai shrugged. "Could be a coincidence. You said Higa didn't know the apprentice?"
She shook her head.
"Why would a sushi chef want to kill him?" Sasuke asked.
The perpetrator had to know several facts in advance of the attempt: that Higa frequented the restaurant; that he ordered fugu; and finally, most ominously, that he'd be there last night. "I think he was an accomplice," she said. "As for motive… I'm not sure. But the timing seems suspicious when he's just sent out his crystal gen offers to all the villages."
"It'll be the jinchuriki all over again," Sai said.
Sakura nodded. At one point, the tailed beasts were traded and stolen between villages as bargaining chips. The more a village had, the stronger it was. But there were nine tailed beasts and one man in control of crystal gem. "The Union will have to come up with regulation for crystal gem, or it'll be chaos," she said.
"He knows," Sasuke said. "That's why he's acting now."
Under the table deals, before his negations could be limited by legislation. Possession was nine-tenths of ownership; no village would cede its supply of crystal gem once they got their hands on it, regulations or not. And if they'd gotten wind of being one-upped by another village, well…
"He's painted a target on his back," Sasuke muttered.
Sakura nodded. "Do you think the council will negotiate with him?"
Sasuke and Sai shared a look. They nodded.
"Won't they call off our mission then? Why investigate him if they're going to sign a new deal with Higa?"
"They might. Until they do, we keep going." Sasuke quashed her hopes.
"I hope he doesn't have more dinners planned," she said. At least he was safe in the complex.
"Next time, stay put," Sasuke ordered. "Focus on Higa. Let us handle the rest."
Sakura blinked. "It was just a clone."
"Could've been more."
"I could've handled more."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "You took an unnecessary risk."
He was serious. She rankled at his tone. "What about you?"
Sai cleared his throat.
"What about me."
"If Higa's my problem, why did you come to the dojo?" Armed to the teeth, at that.
"You couldn't defend yourself," he said plainly.
"I could—"
"Not without chakra."
He thought she'd lose? Unbidden, memories of his back, aged twelve to seventeen, flitted across her mind's eye. Did he still see her as that girl? "Higa signs contracts for a living. I'm a kunoichi."
Sasuke scowled. "How's that going?"
Sakura faltered, recalling how short Higa had been with her. She couldn't read his intentions, and their conversations meandered through the strangest topics. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "In the carriage, he told me— "
"I know what he said." Sasuke's tone was flat. "Are you going to?"
Sakura's cheeks heated. He probably never questioned the other kunoichi like this. He thought she wouldn't. He was probably right. "I… if I have too," she whispered.
His expression blackened. "Why was your name on the registry?"
"I'm going to leave," Sai said.
"I told you, everyone did the training. We all got certified."
"You never took your name off," he groused. "You could've been sent on one of these missions, and it wouldn't have been with me as your captain."
Sakura gaped. "What, because you're giving me special treatment?"
"The expectations would be different." Higher, was unspoken.
"I never asked you to go easy on me." So this was how he really felt. She couldn't believe she thought he was supportive last night.
"Anyone else on this mission—" Sasuke exhaled sharply. He closed in on her and didn't stop until she could feel the heat and aggression rolling off his powerful frame, until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. A lesser man would've cowered, but Sakura stood ramrod straight.
Finish the sentence, she wanted to say. Anyone else would've done it faster. Anyone else would've charmed Higa by now and gotten the information they needed. Sai's words: depends on the swallow.
"While it might seem inconceivable to you that I could possibly seduce a man, believe it or not, it's happened before, and when I sleep with Higa, you will be the first to know, are you happy?" she snapped.
Sasuke's face went blank, as though she'd slapped him. Her breath evened. What was she doing? Raising her voice wouldn't solve anything. The mission was complicated enough. "I'm—"
"Yeah. Do that," he said coldly.
Sakura quashed the twinge of hurt that welled up inside her at his tone and stuck out her chin. "I will."
The opulent splendor of the warlord's banquet hall stole Sakura's breath away. The walls were engraved with motifs of vines and lotus, and moonlight filtered through floor to window ceilings paneled in copper filigree. Brass oil lamps embedded with gemstones hung from the ceiling, suffusing the hall in dim and sensual firelight. In a back corner, musicians coaxed a sultry melody from instruments she'd never seen before— long necked lutes, hand drums, and vertical flutes.
Sakura's hair stood on end. Something about this party felt… illicit. More so than his garden party.
Perhaps it was the arrangement of the hall— plush lounges before low tables bearing glassware and tall basins of burning tobacco, connected to smoking pipes. Or the guests— all masked, more men than women. They conversed in deep tones from behind veils, headscarves, and metal masks, lifted only for a quick draw from the pipe.
Tendrils of white vapors curled into the air. Between the smoke, the dim lighting, and the masks, it was hard to tell who was who. Where was Sasuke? He'd arrived before her.
"You're not from around here, are you?" A buxom woman with deep ochre skin glided toward Sakura. She wore a mask of hammered silver that left only her wide-set eyes uncovered.
"How did you know?" Sakura asked.
The stranger beckoned her to follow under an archway. She stopped behind a wide column that offered privacy from the rest of the hall.
"This—" she lifted the length of fine chain that draped the bridge of Sakura's nose "—goes over your head, and these—" she twisted the mask so that the veil of hair-thin golden chains hung over her cheeks and mouth "—go in the front. Every girl from Stone knows how ankara are worn."
"Oh." Sakura's cheeks heated. When she opened the box, the head piece— a pile of intricate chains and tiny medallions— had befuddled her. She'd assumed it was a necklace and hastily adjusted once she saw the other attendees.
The woman circled Sakura. "Is your husband an exporter? This is fine embroidery." She lifted her hand to the billowing organza of her trousers, gathered at her ankles.
"In business, actually," she said, deciding to err on the side of caution, in case courtesans were not welcome at such events. "I was just looking for him."
They returned to the party, and Sasuke rose to stand with a ring of terse-faced men in corrugated metal masks. Despite his dark hair and plain apparel— a longline vest over loose-cut robes in camel— he exuded lethal grace and unbridled power, looking every bit as forbidding as the brutes.
"Is that him?" the woman asked. "He's gorgeous."
Sakura sniffed. "He's alright." Since their heated exchange on the roof, he spoke to her only when necessary, in clipped tones. Like she had been the one to pick a fight. "Thanks for your help." She couldn't waste time thinking about Sasuke. She had a warlord to find.
Sakura prowled the room and spotted Higa deep in conversation with a swarthy thug in a black cloak with bindings up to his nose, eerily similar to Zabuza from Mist. What kind of "friends" had Higa invited?
The man disappeared into the hall, and Higa beckoned her over.
The last time they spoke, after dinner, he'd been short with her. She couldn't risk pushing him away further. But she couldn't remember Anko's fourth or fifth steps, for the life of her.
He slid her a glass of amber wine. "Taste this."
The wine had the sweetness of green apple and honey and the aroma of basil. The carbonation prickled her throat, but the dryness warmed all the way to her toes. "Wow." Sakura resisted the urge to drain the glass. While Sakura had mastered nearly every one of Tsunade's techniques, her inability to hold her drink had become something of a legend among the ranks of the Konoha jonin.
"An old favorite, from a house in the Land of Nectar." His hair was brushed back from his temples, and he wore an ivory overcoat, tailored to emphasize his shoulders. His arm was thrown over the back of the sofa.
"You're in a good mood," she observed.
"It's true."
"Work going well?"
""You always ask about that. There are other pleasures in life," he said, sweeping a gaze over her that lingered longer too long on the crystal pendant between her breasts. Or just her breasts. "You figured the ankara out."
"I had help." She hoped this wouldn't be a habit— him dressing her. The costumes provided by ID were specifically designed for espionage with pockets sewn for concealing recorders and weapons. The bodice Higa sent her was close-fitted and covered in beads. No room for a bra, much less a mic. "Why'd you pick this?"
He shrugged. "I thought it'd bring out your eyes."
None of his tension from dinner remained. She supposed if she was about to become a billionaire off blood money, she'd be in a chipper mood too. "I've never been to anything like this before. These masks are beautiful."
"And functional. This circle prefers a touch of discretion."
Sakura looked around. The guests were huddled in conversation, clinking glasses punctuated with quiet laughs. "From each other?"
"Particularly from each other."
What kind of people attended parties with their enemies? "What do they have to hide?"
"They're in sensitive industries."
Oh. Criminals. She regarded him from under her lashes. "Like you?"
Higa leaned his elbows on his knees. "Like me."
"They seem festive enough."
"Life is short. There's always a reason to celebrate." He drew a pack of cigarettes and slipped one between his lips. He offered her one, taking out a lighter.
Sakura smiled tightly. "No thanks."
He pocketed the lighter and the cigarette. "Do you ever indulge? What's your vice?"
Sakura thought. "I sleep in pretty late on my days off. Also, I have this one coworker who's nice but really chatty. Sometimes, when I pass him on the streets, I pretend not to see him so I don't get caught up with him." Sakura bit her lip. It was quite rude of her; Honjo was a highly respected physician, and she ought to show her respects to her superiors.
Higa dipped his head.
"What?"
"That's not a vice." His shoulders shook with laughter.
Sakura faltered. "Well, what's yours then?"
He rubbed his jaw, and mirthful grey eyes met hers. "I think I'm looking at her."
The party was a walking Bingo Book convention. Sai had to be wetting himself.
"Konjiki. Kido. Amuda. Fushin."
Sasuke swept the room, speaking low into his scarf where his borrowed mic was tucked. The masks complicated things, but he could recognize the obvious targets. Sasuke blood hummed with anticipation. Each missing-nin was months of hunting and piles of paperwork spared, but he couldn't do a thing without blowing their cover. All he could do was gather information.
"— if he raises tariffs, the southern Earth market is ours—"
Most of the conversation centered on the new political climate in the western continents, under the new Tsuchikage. He was favorable to reforming Ishigakure, the former hidden village of Stone that dissembled in the face of financial duress. The oligarchs had vested interest in establishing a shinobi village under a puppet government, and Higa had gathered an assortment of shinobi— all missing-nin, except him— to field their questions.
This party was a reckless move. Uncharacteristically so, based on the information from Hideo.
"— don't see why he wants to build the wall. It's a waste of resources—"
"— zealot, he wants a monument to his ego—"
This mission was more productive than he'd anticipated. Why was he was tense all over? The tobacco smoke stung his eyes, but he was used to the aftermath of katon techniques. Avaricious guests dragged him into conversation on the procuring industry, but he was used to acting, too.
It was music, he decided. Too loud.
Sasuke's eyes drifted across the room. Higa was deep in conversation with a petite woman wearing a indecent outfit of jade organza. Half her face was covered with something gold, but he could spot Sakura from a mile away with a bag over her head.
Her attire reminded him of the last wedding he attended. It had been a muggy evening, and the drawing room had smelled like saffron and oudh, like here. His vexing head scarf was on the brink of unraveling as he bent over the groom— the firstborn son of a Wind despot—for his prenuptial shave. But Sasuke's handiwork held when he scraped away the man's oiled beard and held still, when he drew the razor across the his throat.
When he escaped through the reception hall, he passed the bride, kneeling besides an empty cushion. Their eyes met through her scarlet veil. Her cursory smile held the eager anticipation of a woman awaiting the rest of her life.
That was a year ago. Was she still grieving?
He needed this mission to end. There was too much downtime to think about useless things, like the bride, and why Sakura had been worried about her progress with Higa when he'd been eye-fucking her all night long.
Good.
The sooner she seduced him, the sooner they could all go their separate ways. He felt a presence behind him.
It was a tall woman with short black hair. Her red veil obscured her age, but there was a clinical gleam to her eye. "Fujimoto Riku," she said, offering her hand. "Importer."
He shook it. "Ito Kyouya, procurer."
Her sharp eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but Sasuke caught the tiny motion. "Are you one of the shinobi? I've been told that there are quite a few of you here."
More than a few.
"I used to dabble in that business myself." She sipped from her wine. "It's been years. I've heard Iwa repealed their sanctions? Business must be booming."
"I work out of Stone."
"A local." Riku scanned the room and gestured at Sakura. "Is that her? Your courtesan?"
He nodded.
"I'm surprised she hasn't been snatched up by a benefactor, with hair like that. She must be new."
"It's dyed."
"False advertising?"
He shrugged. They'd debated asking Sakura to dye her hair black but decided the exotic color would work in her favor. Not that he had an opinion or anything.
"Masao hasn't changed," Riku said, rolling her eyes. "Still likes them young and pretty. Look at how he's dressed her up. I'm surprised he let her out of his bed."
Sasuke's spine stiffened.
"That's the problem with these big clients— you can't tell them no. They think because they have money, they can do whatever they want. It's why I left." Riku drained her glass. "Alright, I'm drunk. Shall we go say hello?"
Across the room, Higa adjusted Sakura's mask. "You can go."
Riku scoffed. "Oh come. It'll be fun."
...
"A great tragedy has befallen your handler." Higa poured himself a generous helping of whisky.
Sakura turned. A slender woman with sable hair strode to their table with Sasuke in tow. "Who is she?"
"A perfidious bitch."
"What happened?"
"One lucrative contract and one lapse in judgement." Higa drained the glass in one swallow. "Let this be a cautionary tale against workplace affairs."
"Masao-kun, it has been too long," the woman purred.
"Some would say too soon."
"Yet against the odds, you've made a remarkable recovery," Riku's smile was all teeth and viciousness. "What's your name, darling?"
"I'm Nanami." Sasuke's gaze fixed on Higa's hand at her knee. Sakura smiled pointedly. See? Progress. "Good evening, Ito-san."
Sasuke nodded stiffly. She needed to get the mic back from him at some point in the evening, in case Higa split off after.
"I was just telling him how I adore your hair," Riku said. She turned to Higa. "A change in taste?"
"Yes, her decorum is refreshing."
"Oh, don't pretend to gentility."
Higa stood. "I don't remember inviting you. What do you want?"
"You know what I want. I sent it to you two months ago," she hissed.
He was unfazed. "I'm not signing that—"
"It's mine—"
"Not any more." He turned to Sakura and Sasuke. "Pardon us."
Sakura caught Sasuke's eye. Quietly, she rose from the lounge and slipped beneath the archway, looking for a place where they could have privacy. She found an abandoned corner of the hall, hidden by large panels of filigree and ornate pillars, lit by only the window. The music and conversation of the party faded.
Moments later, Sasuke stepped inside. His scent— pine and rain, she decided— permeated, and she was all too aware of how tight of a space it was for two people. Her anger from yesterday morning had faded to regret. Despite his harsh tone, he'd had her best interests in mind.
Sasuke handed her mic and transmitter back. He gave her a quick once-over that tangled where her thumbs were hooked into the tight waistband of her pants. Was he going to watch? "I have to take this off," she mumbled. "The holster's on my leg."
He spun on his heel.
Sakura undid the lacing at her lower back, trying not to brush against him. "Okay," she said, when everything was in place.
Pitch black eyes darted to her legs for the briefest of moments before meeting hers. They spoke at once.
"I know I can—"
"I didn't mean—"
"Go ahead," Sakura said quickly.
"I don't think you're weak."
"I know," she said. It was a silly accusation. "I'm sorry I yelled." Younger her would've been appalled by her behavior. Sakura used to bark at Naruto all day long, but she never once raised her voice with Sasuke, worried that he'd find it ugly or unladylike. Not that she hadn't wanted to; he was as insufferable as Naruto sometimes. "It's a sore spot for me, being incapable."
Sasuke leaned a shoulder against the window, boxing her into the corner, his patrician features soft in the moonlight. "Why?"
"I spend so much time at the hospital. People see me as just a medic-nin, good at healing—"
"No one thinks that."
She couldn't help but smile at his blunt tone. "Thanks."
"Is that why you took this mission?"
She nodded. "I wanted to get out of the village. You're lucky you get to travel." As soon as the words left her mouth, Sakura cringed. She knew what the council decided after his trial. As an ex-felon, he'd never be eligible for Hokage or a council position. Never be allowed to teach children. He was stripped of citizenship rights and his only permitted travel was for work. And she'd told him he was lucky. "I'm sorry, that was an awful thing to say."
"Why?"
"Because your probation…"
"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The travel restrictions are a pain, but the rest doesn't matter."
She gaped. "Don't you want to get married?"
He froze.
Oh dear. "I didn't mean— " that sounded like a proposal "— I didn't mean with me. I meant in general."
"I can after I finish." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What about you?"
She was surprised he cared to ask. "I'd like to have a family. I've always wanted to. Work will be tough, but I'm sure my husband and I'll figure it out." Her husband. If her cheeks weren't pink before, they were now. In those girlhood dreams, it had always been Sasuke she'd pictured as her husband.
"He'll have to be home a lot."
"Not necessarily."
"You're never home," he pointed out.
"You're never home either," she said, a little short.
His brows rose.
Sakura was horrified. Why would that matter? Deflect, deflect, deflect. "So you've never wanted to teach Academy?" When he was silent, she barreled on. "You know, when we were all about to graduate, I didn't know if I wanted to be a kunoichi. Fighting scared me. But it felt like a waste to quit when the failure rate was so high," she said. "Meeting you two changed me."
He turned to her. "Me."
"Yeah. You knew exactly what you wanted from day one, and you did it." Against all odds, he avenged his clan. Meanwhile, all she wanted to do at twelve was go home, avoid Naruto, and play.
"No."
"What?"
"I didn't know anything." He turned to the window and the strange, electrical current, omnipresent under his pale skin, seemed to bristle with darkness.
What was he talking about? "I- you did your best."
"You don't know know what I did," he said tersely. His hands fisted at his sides.
"So tell me." He looked achingly lonely, and she reached for his arm. At the contact, he tensed. It was a bad habit of hers. He hated being touched, always froze up like a log. "Sorry," she said, pulling away.
He snatched her hand up. His was broad and coarsely-boned, so large it engulfed hers. Her skin tingled at the contact.
"My clan was planning a coup." Cold, unfaltering words. "Itachi killed them on Danzo's orders to protect our reputation. The Sandaime knew."
She gasped. Uchiha Itachi was the terrifying criminal who'd left Kakashi and Sasuke catatonic with his terrifying genjutsu.
"He wanted me hate him, and I believed everything he said." His grip was bone-crushing. "The night he died I felt freed. Like I'd finally honored my parents."
Sakura's lips parted. "You can't blame yourself."
"I killed him. He's gone. I'll never hear his voice again. Why did he make me do it?" He turned to her and seemed to realize how tightly he was clutching her hand. He dropped it, and blood returned in a rush.
"I don't know," she said. During the war, she never crossed paths with him. "I didn't know your brother, but it sounds like he loved and cherished you dearly, and I know what that feels like. I think he would've wanted you to be happy."
His eyes widened, and the candor of his expression broke her heart.
"Thank you for trusting me," she said. She threw her arms around his neck. To think that he had been holding onto this all along was gut-wrenching. His heart pounded erratically next to her ear, faster than she'd ever heard it, and she nestled into his warmth, waiting for him to shove her off. "I'm glad I took this mission. Even if there's nothing between us," she said teasingly, "I missed that nothing with you."
After this was all over, would they go restrained cordiality and seeing each other three times a year? A pang of dismay shot through her at the thought. In the distance, the band began a new song, an unwelcome reminder that they still had a job to do.
Reluctantly, she let him go. "I should head back and find Higa." The ankara was hopelessly lopsided, and Sakura fumbled with the little chains, wishing she had a mirror. She looked up at him. "Does this look okay?"
His gaze roved her features— eyes, nose, lips— lingering like a soft whisper or kiss, and for a moment, she wished he would kiss her. What would it feel like when he wasn't obliging out of duty, but desire?
His jaw clenched. He pulled the veil off. He cupped her head and the rough pad of his thumb caressed her bared cheekbone. "Sasuke-kun?"
When his head lowered, every inch of her body went taut. She waited with bated breath and his lips brushed against hers, so lightly and cautiously that she thought she imagined it at first. He did it again. And again. Soft, chaste kisses that bid her eyes to slide shut. Her hands went to his hair.
Her quiet capitulation was like a spark to dry kindling. He kissed her as though she'd stoked some long-smoldering hunger within him as he coaxed her jaw open. His tongue slipped past her lips to trace demands against the roof, tasting every inch of her mouth, wresting a whimper from her throat. His hands splayed possessively around her waist, and when her knees buckled, he pinned her against the frigid glass of the window.
Pulse.
Her eyes shot open. "Wait—"
He growled and chased her mouth but she twisted away. The gardens outside were dark in the light of the new moon.
"Did you feel that?" she asked.
His brows furrowed.
Pulse.
Sasuke yanked her to the ground with inhuman speed, and the window burst in a spray of glass.
