Chapter 7 – Little bird no more
"The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent."
Friendly trigger warning : this chapter contains mention of rape and emotional abuse. Read safe my lovelies!
10 years ago
"So, here is my lovely bride to be."
The young girl was on her knees on a sumptuous wooden floor, keeping her eyes fixated on the cracks and spirals of the wood – was it oak? No, probably mahogany. The rich colour was keeping her thoughts and eyes away from the man on the platform in front of her. She was surrounded by her father and guards, little bird in an invisible cage, all dolled up indeed, covered in the finest materials and trinkets from her estate. Ready to be sold, and forgotten.
"Do not forget our deal, Lord Asano" Sakumo said calmly.
"We will not marry until she is seventeen, yes, yes, of course. It gives her a year to settle in the estate, learn about our ways, fit in properly to her role. Do not worry. She has many things to see."
Sakura thought for an instant she heard her father breathe out in relief. It lasted maybe half a whisper, and she couldn't lift her eyes to check, but she knew him. She felt her skin crawl at the little laugh emanating from Lord Asano. He seemed so tall, on that platform, and it was as if, if she were to listen more carefully, she could distinguish power oozing from his tone, a delicate mix of control and bridled envy. She wanted to hide, run away, as far as possible, yet, it was already too late.
"Very well then. I'll escort my daughter to her new quarters, if you may. Thank you very much for your kindness, Lord Asano."
Her father gestured to stand up, Sakura following a few seconds later, head down, clicking with the sound of her heavy headwear. Her legs were cotton, and she was grateful for the layers of dresses she was wearing, so that no one, she hoped, could see the tremors of her frail little body.
The sudden iron grip she felt on her arm, both reassuring and firm, made her realise otherwise. Her father, pretending to escort her out of the room, was actually lifting her away, helping her carry herself.
He did so even as the panels closed behind them, until they reached her new quarters. Gesturing to his guards, Sakumo entered alone with Sakura in the big room, finely ornamented, drawings of birds and wild animals adorning the refined paper panels all across the space, opening up to a private garden. When he let go of her, she collapsed on the floor, on her knees, heaving and keeping her lips firmly shut together to muffle her own sobs.
To her surprise, her father kneeled beside her, gently patting the back of her head. They remained silent for a while, her, staring at her hands, her vision blurring away with contained tears, him, his giant, calloused hand resting in her hair, as he did many times when she was a child. He didn't know what to say, she realised. He knew what was coming for her, he knew all about her true feelings, after that dreadful night at the estate. In some twisted, terrible way, the massacre of the Uchiha clan had made everybody forget about her genpachu, and Sasuke's statement. Who would care of two children, on the brisk of war?
"I am sorry", he finally whispered. "We all have our duties. Your brother and I will fight. Here is yours."
Sakura, looked up at her father, her eyes rimmed with red. She was a child, not yet on the verge of womanhood. She was too young, too fragile, Sakumo thought for an instant. But what other choice did they have? They couldn't declare war on all the clans. They had to preserve their honour.
"You are a warrior, just like your mother before you", he added cautiously. "May you have inherited her wisdom, for you already have her strength. You will need it, and you will make us proud, my little bird."
Sakura was still silent, a war of thousand words passing through her eyes and on her so-expressive face. She had so much to learn, so much to know, to survive here.
"I don't want to be here", she whispered. "Take me to the battlefields with you. I'd rather die a sword in my hand than be with this man", she added, a broken murmur.
"All warriors must face unbearable challenges. May this be your last one."
Sakumo stood up, her daughter reaching out to him, grabbing his hand in hers, a silent, last plea for freedom. He looked away, not sure if it was by duty or by shame.
"Goodbye, my little bird. May we meet again."
He slowly, cautiously untangled his hand from her pale, cold fingers as if he was dislodging himself from the grasp of a corpse, and, without a look back, walked away to close the panels behind him.
He tried to not listen to her sobs, as he walked away.
The morning was a lost memory and the birds silent in the midst of the day, earth scattered by heavy wind.
The delicate rice panels were vibrating from the assaults of the small, dry storm outside, but Sakura's hands were not shaking as she poured some tea to Akamatsu, as he noticed, seating in front of her.
They were alone in a room made for tea ceremonies, tall and lightly decorated, pans of red fabric hanging on one side of the wall draping over the Haruno emblem.
He was looking at her in silence, his eyes drifting from her hands to her face, peaceful and quiet. It was as if he was trying to decipher an obscure parchment or enjoying a work of art; still unsure on which attitude to adopt.
It was Sakura who spoke first, once she gracefully gestured at Akamatsu to take his cup in hand.
"I wanted us to pursue our earlier conversation", she said softly, looking straight at him.
"A very good idea indeed, for we have many things to discuss. "
The man couldn't help but notice the way her plump lips were slowly curving as she blew on her tea without breaking the eye contact. He felt a cold shiver run against the back of his neck, like a caress – or the edge of a sword. He could sense it running through her veins, the anticipation, the ambition, the hunger. She was playing at his cords and speaking his language, her body instrument of her will, her mind his for the taking.
"Did you consider my offer?" he pursued.
"What exactly it is you have to offer me?" She asked. "How can I be sure you really are trying to take Danzo out – that you really are here to protect me?"
There it was. The bargaining. Was she really suspicious of him, or too desperate to consider anything else? The silence in the estate was telling – so few were here to protect her, after what had happened to her father and brother. She was caught, like a doe in hunting, hounds closing in.
"If you let me, I will show you. Let's go to court, together. I'll let you fit in, gain allies. I'll put you under my protection. When the time comes, I'll make you meet the right people – Tsunade still has friends in the capital, you know."
"I have no idea what you are talking about", she said at the mention of Tsunade, almost too quickly, he noticed.
"But you do, Suzume."
She stopped her motion, suddenly stiff. He smiled softly.
"Did you really think I did not make the connection between Tsunade's apprentice and you, my dear? We are on the same side – I could've told Danzo months ago of your real allegiances."
"And I would be dead", she said, somehow understating what he was getting at.
"And what a terrible waste that would be."
The rice panels vibrated again, bending against the assaults of the wind. She smiled again, this time mirroring him – there it was, that craving, yearning again, deep down in her jade eyes. Whether it was for power, or something else, anticipation was coiling in his gut, rolling in like a thunderstorm. This woman was everything he needed, and she was here, leaning under his thumb.
"Do we have an agreement then?" he murmured.
She took a sip of tea, the heavy fabric of her kimono revealing her slender wrists, pristine, tempting.
"We do. Take me to court, and, if I may ask…"
"Yes?"
She looked at him, and he felt it once more – the shiver.
"…Teach me, my lord. Everything you know."
The storm outside rumbled again as he agreed, muffling his words.
Nine years ago, at the Asano estate.
Sakura remembers very little of her own wedding, a pitiful maid having slipped a white powder in her tea that morning, trying to ease the sobs that had been wracking her frail little body for the past days.
She had barely registered being dressed and led to the ceremony, if not for Asano's look on her, a mix of satisfaction and ravenousness – a final display of power. The feast afterwards was a blur of plates and drinks and sweets she barely tasted, silent, broken, afraid, like a mouse facing a fox, too overcome by her own dread to think about running away.
When came the night, she had almost forgotten what was expected of her, despite a few hushed words slipped by her maids, despite some special treatment given to her almost reverently by her matrons that morning. She was too young, she thought, too young to understand, too young to be wanted like this.
Everything about Asano was cold – the way he spoke to her, looked at her – he oozed an iciness distinctive with men of too much power, men that took and took and never gave.
The way he had her was no different. As she was tossed and turned around and her ears were filled with grunts she did not understand, she remembered the clumsy, soft lips of a boy on hers, too faded to be nothing more than a treasured memory of the past.
"You are mine now", she heard Asano whisper in her ear, bringing her back on the soft tatami, to her limbs twisted in opulent sheets.
She wept in silence, lips pursed, for she understood this – this was her life, and no one was coming for her.
The estate was eerily silent on this side of the main house – Sakura and Kakashi were on the other, giving orders and instructions to the maids and personnel in order to organise what would become a delicate period for the Haruno domain. They had been going at it all day, and soon Sasuke found out that leaving them to it was probably the best thing he could do.
He was sitting stiffly on the porch, enjoying the icy wind and the last rays of sunlight caressing the gardens, stuck here as he was, in-between two things, trapped in momentum. He felt -and it was rare enough to note it – somewhat uneasy, as if time was wrapping around itself, like a mountain lion in hiding, waiting for something to shift.
Part of him wanted action, for action meant getting closer from seeking revenge, closer from his main purpose. There should have been no hesitation coming from him, not a waver, as this was the only way for him to get things moving and finally get the opportunity to get revenge on Danzô. Yet, he knew that tomorrow, everything would change: he would have to plead with Tsunade, Kakashi would remain here, and Sakura would go to the capital with Akamatsu. That last thought, beyond his own comprehension, made him feel apprehensive and weary. Thankfully, she would have Naruto to rely on -but when night would come, who would she find solace from?
Their last conversation had plunged him in a quiet wonder. He could not entertain any claim on her, yet knowing that she was once again ready to go through anything in order to take Danzô down made his stomach coil.
It was an odd mix of fear, and anger –this was never how things should have gone, not for her, not for them.
Footsteps pulled him out of his bleak reverie, and Naruto sat down on the ledge next to him without saying a word. He was carrying Sake and two glasses, pouring them in between their two bodies.
"You look miserable", he finally said, "even for you. Care to say what's on your mind?"
Sasuke kept silent, looking at Naruto whose cerulean eyes were turned to the last rays of light. He was reveling in the gentle caress of the winter's sun, painting his whole face gold. Uzumakis were the warriors of the rising sun, an ancient, powerful clan as old as his once was. Winter always took a toll on him when they were children, he remembered, but now the man next to him radiated power, even in a dampened state. Sasuke took the glass and repressed a small smile, his lips curving slightly in a smirk.
"Thanks", he simply said before drinking from his cup.
Naruto took his own glass before taking a sip, closing his eyes as if to breathe the sun in.
"You know… I've been around Sakura-chan long enough to know that she will be fine", the blond said. "She is stronger than ever, and if she is doing this it's for a good reason."
He emptied his glass before adding, more softly, as if walking on ice:
"You know … she won't let Akamatsu touch her. Not after everything."
Sasuke finished his glass in one swift move and slammed it back on the wooden porch. The sound echoed in the hollow gardens as he looked away.
"It's not what it is."
"Yeah, sure, you idiot. It's not."
The man turned to look at Naruto, only to see that his old friend was smiling, somewhat sadly, looking at the inside of his glass.
"You weren't here when Tsunade got her back from Asano. You can't possibly understand."
"I know enough. The rumors…"
"… Were partial. We kept… most of the truth hidden, to protect her."
The two men sat in silence, contemplative as the sun disappeared from their view, its soft, dying light only remaining. Behind them, lamps lit up by the servants made the rice panels glow, casting their shadows into the gardens.
"I've seen her mark."
"It's not all", the blonde offered.
"Then tell me."
"All of it?"
"All you can."
Eight years ago
The room was empty as Sakura was heaving, sweat glistening on her uncovered skin, as she turned, tossed, parried, and smacked the training mannequin with her wooden sword.
She had learned many things over a year. She had learned how to run an estate, learned the ways of diplomacy, learned how to bow and how to lead, how to properly present herself and how to speak – but she also had learned everybody's schedules.
Her long hair was tied in a high ponytail, swirling around her as she turned to hit the mannequin, focused on her footwork the way she remembered practicing it with Kakashi, for what felt like a lifetime ago.
She knew no one was near the guards training facilities in the middle of the afternoon, and with that knowledge and the assistance of one of her maids guarding the entrance, she had taken the habit of expelling her frustrations during that hour – hers and hers only, without anyone's looks on the back of her neck. She was herself in that moment – someone nobody here had ever seen, her own, strong, fiery self.
She didn't hear as the door slowly slid open, didn't hear as someone skimmed behind her. Her back bumped into a hard chest and she stopped immediately, lowering her training sword. Dread was starting to fill her as she recognized that presence, all-encompassing and cold. She said nothing, too petrified to even turn around.
Hands snaked around her waist, slowly climbing up to her bandaged chest, resting one moment here as to claim something, then along her arms to her wrists, encasing her hands.
She felt a mouth at the back of her ear, lingers of a breath at the nape of her wet hair.
"Your form is poor" Asano said.
She tried to turn around to free herself, bow and apologize to him in a last attempt to preserve this moment as her own, but his stance was unmoving and he only encased her further in his arms when she tried to move.
"I am sorry, my lord", she started to babble. "I was just fooling around, I…"
"Do it again, slower", he interrupted her.
She stopped for a heartbeat, slowly understanding what he was getting at. Was this real? She slowly lifted her sword in a stance and started moving, guided by the arms of her husband, making her aim higher, swoosh bigger. His hands encompassing hers were so tightly squeezing she felt her blood pumping right under her skin, and, as he corrected her, he slid a leg behind hers, correcting her footwork.
It was easy to forget, to not see the man as anything else but an administrator, but Asano's riches and might came in the art of war. She could feel it, his strong body pressed against hers, dominant, unrelenting, strong as stone.
He had discovered her secret – what was he going to do to this tiny piece of freedom she had managed to keep away from him? Was he going to forbid her from fighting? Was he going to punish her, and if so, what would she have to brace for? He made her understand this, in the past year: as soon as she was submissive to him in any way, she was free in all others.
He made her speed up her movements, her strikes and swishes, before letting go of her. Uncertain of how this was about to go, she turned around to see that he was letting go of his haori and taking up a training sword.
"My lord?" she asked hesitantly.
She lowered her sword – a mistake. He stroke her on her bare shoulder, and she felt the sharp pain of the wood slamming against her skin.
"Guard up", he said, moving around her.
"But, my lord…"
He stroke again, this time on the thigh. She muffled a cry, in-between a sob and a plea.
"Guard up. Mind your feet."
She looked at him, pain ebbing in her body, before clumsily raising her sword again. He hit her sword without an effort, before smacking her shoulder again. This time, her cry was loud, and a bruise was starting to appear.
"Guard up. Elbows out."
When the next strike came, Sakura was ready. He wanted to fight, well, she was going to give him what he wanted. She parried his move, sliding under his guard to strike at his ribs. She didn't see his own sword, diverting her strike at the last second, before attacking again. She escaped the hit by moving away, panting, alert.
"Better. Put more weight in your knees, less in your feet. Elbows in, wrists up for this strike."
She didn't even get to retort as the next attack on herself was ruthless – but so was she. Under his strokes and hits she felt anger rising, a strong, powerful fire threatening to invade her whole body. She lost some focus, but what she missed in experience she doubled in rage. She parried, again and again, waiting for an opening that was never coming. At each missed strike, every hit on her skin, smacking on her body glistening with sweat, at every move of him that did not seem to cost him any energy, she attacked more and more, until she saw it.
His ribs were open for her to strike. Without hesitation, she plunged and, in a large circular movement, delivered a swift blow.
His hand wrapped around the wrist holding her sword like she was nothing but a child, dragging her to him and her sword away from his body. Asano's sword was resting against her throat as she was once again in his arms, so close to him she could feel his breath on her nose and lips.
She was heaving, trying to calm down and gather her breath in long pants while he looked like he barely broke a sweat.
"Yield", he murmured against her face, as she felt her skin crawl and shiver all at once from his proximity.
His cerulean eyes were piercing right through her, domineering and hungry. It took her a few seconds, but she let go of her sword, falling on the tatami behind him.
He let go of her hand, the other one at his waist, pressed in between their bodies, holding the sword against her throat. She felt the wood press a little harder against her skin, as his free hand shot up to cusp her face.
His thumb traced the outline of her lips, and she parted them, compliant. She had learned many things, in one year. How to fake and how to please, how to pretend satisfaction to be safe. He didn't smile, but slid his thumb in her mouth, right on top of her teeth. She didn't move a muscle, petrified and waiting, trying to see how this would go.
He removed his thumb, tracing her cheek with her own saliva from the tip of his finger. Marking her – claiming her.
"Go to my quarters now", he murmured looking at her cheek, almost pensively. "Wait for me there."
She stepped away from him as he released his pressure on her body – she would've been trembling like a leaf only months ago, but for her it was now practise.
As she was walking away, and before she exited the room, she heard him say:
"Be good, and training will start tomorrow."
Anger rose in her throat as she realised what was happening – what had been hers was now his. Like everything – her mind, her body, her life.
But she bowed deeply, and whispered:
"Thank you, my lord. I'll be waiting."
The estate was finally asleep. Kakashi, Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura had spent the last hours of the nights happily debating and drinking together in one of the private rooms of Sakura's quarters, enjoying these last few moments they had, free of doubt and fears, free of social obligations and codes of honor.
They knew that the next day would only bring goodbyes and sorrow, so they just drank to forget, and laughed until their throats were sore - until late hours in the night.
They all had gone to bed, but Sasuke couldn't sleep. After what Naruto told him, filling in the gaps of what he heard and Sakura had whispered, he found himself unable to close his eyes and drill himself to sleep as he usually did. Restless, he decided to take a walk and stand guard in the estate, for his own sanity.
His steps took him in the gardens after long minutes of endless hallways and empty patios. It was nearly a full moon, and it was as if the gardens were shining, the last layers of snow dancing under the bleak rays of light, the wind playing with the shadows of the trees like a hundred brash spirits.
He lost himself in the contemplation of the swiveling shadows until he heard crunches, small footsteps, almost those of a bird, too light to fully leave an track in the snow. He followed that sound, careful to not let himself be seen or heard and soon reached a large space in front of two open panels glowing softly from candles being lit inside the room. He recognized that room as Sakura's private quarters and, chastising himself for merely invading her privacy, was about to walk back when an amused voice behind him made him turn around.
« We've got to stop meeting like this », she lightly joked.
Sakura was here in training clothes, and, from the layer of sweat glistening on her skin, looking like she tried to fight her own insomnia with exercise herself.
« Couldn't sleep? » he asked.
« I rarely do, lately. And sake makes me restless. I tried to wear it off a bit before going to bed. »
« I see.»
She crossed her arms in front of her torso, barely covered in a modesty band, and he could barely repress a shiver. Her long hair was askew around her face, but she was as beautiful as ever, maybe more - she was her own, unbridled self, and part of Sasuke was drawn to the power and confidence she exuded in that instant.
« Care to join me? It will be better with a sparring partner », she offered. « Plus, I did loose a fight against you in a garden at night that I still want revenge for. »
He let out a dry laugh, not wanting to know whether she was referring to their fight or the kiss that ensued. This moment, many years ago, was imprinted in his mind, still searing with regret - did they really had to go down that path, destroy each other a little bit more, just to draw near this pull, this sigh of the universe that seemed to unravel every time they were close to each other?
Seeing that she was serious, and unarmed, he carefully rested his weapons against the trunk of a nearby tree and removed his haori to match her clothing. He positioned himself, palms up in front of him.
« As you wish, hime. »
Sakura, if flustered by his words, said nothing. Instead, she bolted, all too eager to strike, and Sasuke had to adjust to, not only her speed, but the sheer strength of each of her strikes. As she was moving forwards, aiming for the jaw or the ribs, turning and pivoting, Sasuke was parrying and avoiding, but mostly looking at her, all shining eyes and glistering diamond seal, strong muscles and soft skin slapping against his own.
They got closer and closer, dancing under the moonlight more than fighting, as he fell into rhythm with her, blow for blow, suspended in-between shadows, the moon either hiding them or revealing them in all their symmetry. They were twin flames, made to burn alongside each other, barely stepping on the snow before jumping away, hitting their opponent, sliding against each other, grasping hands, arms, almost leaning into each other as two lovers should fight.
Their breaths got labored, and, as they were slowing down, their strikes became softer, their blows nearly turning into caresses. He could read it in her eyes, the adrenaline edging into fear, and love, and regret - he could see that she was asking herself the same question as him - were there going to die away from each other?
He saw an opening in her stance, and, as he parried a solid palm strike from her, grabbed her arm to edge it away from their bodies. His other arm came snaking around her waist to stop her from moving away, his fingers splayed on the small of her back, feeling all of her strong body against his, in a painful reminder of everything they had lost.
It was the closest he got from her since that night many years ago, and, as his body moulded hers into him like two perfect pieces, he was set aflame by the irony of it all, the sheer perfection that there were, like this, against each other, under the moon, in the coldness of snow, radiating heat and power and completion in every step they were making together.
She was looking at him like he like he held many keys to her soul, like he was fire on a winter's night. She was breathing against him, each and every gulp of air she was taking edging her closer to him, this miracle made woman, this princess of everything. All of it, all of he was - it had always been hers, always belonged here, and this truth only struck him when they were like this, tiptoeing on the verge of greatness.
He pressed a scorching kiss at the nape of her neck, unable to help himself, and heard a strangled moan escaping her lips. He let his wet lips trail here for a few seconds, inhaling her, his hand holding her arm stretched to engulf her palm, as her hand found her way into his hair, raking at his scalp.
They stood like this, on the border of something else, nearing each other and wanting each other so much that it was tearing them apart. Two lost kids finding their way towards each other, man and woman with already too much to tell.
They both clawed their way out of their embrace, the world spinning and the shadows of the trees around them dancing on their skins. The looked at each other and held hands for what seemed only a whisper, not saying a word, not moving away from each other. Soon their skins cooled down, their beating hearts letting room to the shivers of the wind.
Sasuke, seeing Sakura's skin tremble under his calloused fingers, took his haori from where he left it to wrap it around her frame. He took in her face, all fierce and soft and open like she was to no one but him, and, caressing her forehead, poked lightly on it with two fingers, in a way she couldn't know about but took everything from him to give to her, taking a small piece of a past where he was happy to her, as a promise, as a present.
« See you next time », he whispered.
She didn't say a word as they parted. Only remained in the gardens a few footprints, and the glow of the moon.
Seven years ago
The Asano estate was rumbling. There was no other word, Sakura felt, that could describe best the state of low murmurs and worried whispers running around since this morning. She had to scold two maids already who were on the verge of tears and neglecting their duties, as her role supposed, but her own stomach was twisting and turning. She couldn't eat and couldn't focus, for the land of Fire had just brutally changed leadership.
The Slug queen, Tsunade-sama, had been overthrown by allied forces coming from the Northern and Eastern kingdoms, the lands of mist and realms of warriors. These troops however, had precious help from the inside – and Danzô, one of the counsellors of the former daimyô, had risen, his coup carefully orchestrated from the shadows.
Sakura, when hearing the news, had felt sick- the Harunos were one of Tsunade's allied clans, and she was terribly worried for her brother and father. She hoped that the knowledge of her marriage as an Asano would be enough to protect them and the estate – or desolation would strike and ruin them all.
She despised Danzô for the simple reason she knew he was one of her husband's reliable allies, and knew for a fact, listening to hushed conversations and reading his diplomatic scrolls, that the Asano clan had been helping Danzô's rise to power, despite their cousin's clan, the Naras, being strongly affiliated to the former ruler. The degree of her husband's implication was still unclear to her, as he was still keeping many things under locks, but she felt like this coup was his undoing – otherwise, why would him and all his military counsellors being locked in the main room of the estate right now?
She was pacing in her quarters, asked to be left alone to give an impression of peace she could no longer muster. How were her friends? The Uzumaki, the Nara, the Yamanaka, the Hatake… All allies to the Slug queen, just like the Haruno. She was praying with all her heart that they were safe, that they found allies or hiding, that they could soon get in touch with her. Her letters to Ino and Naruto had found no answer in the past months and she was starting to worry that, by now being an Asano, she would soon find herself completely alone, ostracized from dear friends, at the top of a pyramid where everyone else was dead.
She sat down on a mahogany chair in front of a small desk, near the rice panels opened to her private gardens to gather some air. The wind was quite warm, even for May, and the last of the sakura trees were loosing their blooms. The young woman was watching them being carried away by the breeze, over the high walls of the gardens until she couldn't keep up with them, too far from sight. She reached into her cabinet to pull out a delicate lacquered box, one of the many presents gotten to her for her eighteenth birthday a couple months ago. This one, however, had been her favorite - this little box, big enough to fit only a few items, had a secret compartment she nearly missed the first time she got to open it. It was perfect, in many ways, and the most precious thing as someone had been acute enough to get her exactly what she needed : secrecy. No one knew of this compartment except her, and no one in the estate ever managed to trace it back to the buyer. Only a golden crane was drawn on the box painted all black, and it had been a puzzle she had no time cracking just yet.
Sakura opened the box, setting aside letters from her father, a golden comb and a small necklace. Opening the secret compartment, she pulled out a red ribbon she had not laid eyes upon in a very long time. She let it slide between her thumb and index, revealing in the delicacy of the fabric. How was he, right now? What was he doing? Was he even alive?… Last time she heard rumors of the last Uchiha, it was rattled with mystery and dead bodies. A gust of wind surged into the room, nearly tearing the ribbon from her grasp. It flew in front of her face, caressing her cheek and wrapping itself around her for the briefest of moments - and she felt like a coil in her stomach, a nearly imperceptible shiver - like a warning.
Following her guts she very quickly hid the ribbon back into the compartment, covered it with the comb, the necklace and the letters, and slammed it shut before putting the box away on her desk. No more than a few seconds later, she heard a strangled gasp from her chambermaids outside of the rice panels and stood up, grabbing her practice katana strapped under her desk, unsheathing it and bolting for the entrance.
Her whole body was tensed as she was trying to catch up with the sounds outside of her quarters, but everything was awfully quiet - she could barely hear some footsteps retreating away from her, but, strangely, nothing else. She grasped the handle of her katana and stopped her breathing, waiting.
The rice panels slid open and it was only her intense focus that made her stop her motion as it was no other than Asano himself stepping uninvited -but was he ever - in her quarters. She let go of the katana immediately and it fell to the floor in a dull thump.
« My lord » she whispered.
He looked at her, the katana on the floor then back to her disheveled figure, where rage and adrenaline were fading to shame and surprise.
« Feeling threatened, my little bird? » he murmured.
Sakura took one long breath, then stood taller.
« You've invited dangerous men here. The estate has been askew, my maids won't listen to me, and you are nowhere to be seen. There is much to feel worried about. »
She was trying her best to gather her spirits and please the man she could not read the mind of, despite her best efforts. Why had he come here now? What was it she could feel about him that seemed off, that glimmer in his eyes, of hunger, bordering towards madness? She eyed the katana on the floor.
« But threatened, no, my lord - not with this » she said as she pointed at the weapon with her chin.
His features seemed to relax, soften, somehow, before getting back to their usual fashion.
« Good », he said simply.
He snapped two fingers and suddenly her maids were everywhere, carrying two trunks with them and started to gather around Sakura, steering her in the middle of the room, the trunks in-between her and the doors to her gardens. She eyed Asano cautiously, but the man betrayed nothing of what was going on in his mind.
« Tomorrow », he started, « the estate will go to war. Our cousins, the Naras, have allied with Tsunade's rebellious forces and are currently trying to retreat her and her men towards the outer regions. The Asano, as precious allies of our new daimyô, Danzô, were tasked to crush their troops in their escape »
At the mention of the Naras, Sakura's heart sank. All of her friends were probably running for their lives now, and the irony of the Asanos being their pursuers stung deep.
« Aren't the Naras our cousin clan, my Lord? » She asked while looking at her husband. « Surely Danzô is testing our loyalty by asking you to pursue them. »
« Our loyalty to the daimyô is without doubt », Asano replied tersely. « But I concede - it is a test of spirit. »
Sakura nodded to hide her spinning thoughts. How were Shikamaru, Ino and Choji? She couldn't stomach the perspective of anything happening to them.
« So, how long will you be gone for? » Sakura asked, barely paying attention to her maids opening one of the trunks and emptying its contents somewhere behind her.
« We are marching on Seta right now, where our general will join us. Then, when camp is made, we will strike, somewhere near Awazu, probably - in about a week. »
The young woman was looking beyond her private gardens, lost in thought.
« So long without your presence here, my Lord », she managed to whisper.
« This is not all », Asano said, and Sakura whipped her head at him, recognizing a sharp edge to his voice she knew all too well.
« Ladies, please proceed », he ordered her maids.
« It might be better if Asano-sama were to wait outside of the room », the oldest maid quipped.
« I said, proceed », he said sharply. « Do not make me repeat. »
Sakura watched in cold horror as her maids started stripping her from her clothes, removing her jewelry and her hairdo to leave her in undergarments, a modesty band on her torso and loose cloth pants.
« My Lord, what is this? » she asked in a voice strained from the effort of not making it tremble.
He did not grant her an answer, and watched her as her maids pulled her hair into a long ponytail, and started dressing her again, in heavier garments she didn't recognize. They tied a padded top around her waist and similar-looking arm pieces, then a leather piece, slit for movement, around her waist. They then clipped golden metallic pieces around her entire frame as she was slowly realizing what she was being dressed into.
It was an armor.
Once their job was done, Sakura could barely breathe - not from the weight of her suit, that was surprisingly easy to breathe and walk into once all pieced together, but rather from the realization of it all.
« You want me to come with you », she said in a whisper.
« You shall join us at Seta, then will march at my side during the Awasu battle », he confirmed while slowly moving towards the second trunk, longer and smaller.
« But my lord, I am … » she started, a feeling of panic oozing in her gut.
« … Not trained enough? You are more skilled than most of my men. … A woman? I thought you'd be happy, for once, not to be stuck in here, to see what is happening outside of these walls. »
Sakura remained silent, her eyes now focusing on the high walls at the end of her gardens.
« … Unless you were about to say that you were not loyal to our new daimyo… or to me. In that case, we will need to address this matter in a very different way », he completed, looming above her.
Her maids had retreated from her quarters, probably obeying an order from her husband she didn't see. Her blood ran cold. Of course she wasn't. Of course she would've, if given the choice, run back to her father, brother, and friends. Of course she wasn't thinking about Asano when forced to share his bed, of course she would've gone in a bat of an eye.
« No, my lord. I am yours and faithful to our daimyo », she said weakly. « I was worried that having me at your side, untrained to the art of war would've put you in a difficult position is all. »
Asano said nothing, apparently satisfied by her answer, and opened the trunk. Inside was a sword, the most beautiful weapon Sakura had ever laid eyes on. The handle was a mix of ivory and gold, the saya (sheath) was finely decorated, small birds scattered by the wind painted on the lacquered wood and covered with golden leaves. After and insisting look from her husband, she unsheathed it, and the blade sang along the saya while being uncovered. Sakura gasped - a sakura branch was engraved along the blade, its leaves and flowers nearing the sharp edge of the blade. It was a gorgeous work of craftsmanship. She gave it a few experimental swings under the appreciative eye of her husband, then looked at him.
« This blade is almost too beautiful to ever see a battleground », she couldn't help but saying.
« So are you - but our world works in cruel ways », Asano murmured, looking at her with a cold craving she knew too much.
Sakura suppressed a shiver, too focused as she was on looking at the blade. She couldn't help but feeling numb and used - but the past few years had taught her many things.
« When am I leaving? » She asked softly, putting back the sword in its sheath.
Asano was already on the move, nearing her door.
« In two days. I'll see you tonight - we are hosting our allies' counsellors, and I expect you to take part in the military discussions during dinner. After all, you have much to catch up on. »
« Yes, my lord », she said, bowing.
He left her alone in her quarters, still geared up for war, holding her new katana. What the future held for her was uncertain - and she did not look forward to meet any familiar faces on the wrong side of the battlefield. But what other choice did she have? After all, she carried her cage with her wherever she went. Will she ever be free?
Before her maids came back to her room, she took the red ribbon from her box and hid it in the folds of her armor. It was as if keeping this secret hidden was the only thing helping her steer away from madness. Now, she was ready to face anything they would throw in her way.
She was going to war, then.
Kakashi, when walking towards Sakura's private gardens, was painfully aware that he might not see her again in a very long time. He was always of very cool demeanor, mostly under pressure, but these past few days were culminating now, as he was supposed to take over the estate for Sakura while watching her leave towards danger - and, despite his fondness for Naruto, he highly doubted that his diplomatic skills had gotten any better in the past few years.
One of Sakura's maids, the oldest and her most trusted, was waiting for him as per usual, opening the sliding doors towards the patio they were always conducting their early meetings.
This time, however, as the panels slid, Kakashi saw that Sakura was different - first, she was lightly dressed for travel purposes, her long hair in a high ponytail and her clothes men-like, ample and lightly padded. Second, she was sitting down on the porch, enjoying tea that was also waiting for him in a steaming cup.
He sat down in silence, eyeing her, almost with curiosity - rare were those moments were she was so unguarded, so raw - and it seemed as he was watching the woman in front of him, she was both the girl he knew and something she was right on the verge of becoming. He could better see the light tan of her skin, probably from training outdoors, the definition of her muscles, the strength in her jaw - all attributes of a warrior usually concealed under careful layers of makeup - something she didn't need this morning ; all the guests gone for the capital ahead of them.
She turned to face him and he couldn't help but rise his eyebrows in surprise. He could see, proudly displayed on her forehead, the Princess' seal. He heard things, and somehow was expecting it, but seeing it here on her skin seemed to put everything in perspective.
« It does make my forehead look smaller, doesn't it? » she teased lightly.
He let out a small laugh before lowering his mask to drink from the cup of tea. It was Sakura's turn to gasp, looking at his uncovered mouth. He raised an eyebrow jokingly.
« Yes, I do have a mole on my chin. I think Naruto owes you money. »
« He's never going to believe me. »
« Probably not. »
They both stayed quiet, enjoying each others' presence for a few minutes, sipping tea in the cool breeze. The sun was rising and its cold rays were stretching beyond the horizon, caressing the gardens lazily and warming their skins.
« So, what now? » He asked, breaking the silence.
« There are several things we need to discuss, before I go », she replied softly. « First, but you already know this, I've been Tsunade's apprentice almost since she saved my life at Awasu. I've sworn an oath to her, that involves this estate, in case of war, that I cannot and will not break. By ruling this estate, you are now back under her protection, and part of her network. She will probably send one of hers here to reach out to you once she hears that I'm moving to the Capital. »
Kakashi merely nodded, listening to her instructions.
« She trusts you, you know. And so do I. You will do amazing here, I am sure of it. But, there is also something you must know. »
« What is that? »
« Two things. First is that my scouts have seen movement at the border of the estate, and whispers. Akatsuki is nearby. We don't know what they want, they have been pretty quiet for the past few months, but it can't be good. Please be careful. »
« You know me. I don't trust anyone. I'll look into it myself, under the radar, of course. »
Sakura breathed slowly, smiling softly. She however turned away from him, suddenly concerned.
« The last information I'm about to give you… Is the reason why I think you should stay here. »
Kakashi straightened.
« What do you mean? »
« There were only rumors at first, only whispers. But Tsunade got confirmation and her network reached out today, and… »
She took one deep breath, then looked at him, his deep charcoal eyes and soft features - was it why he was always wearing a mask? There was something about him, so irremediably human and alive, something untamed that maybe, was easier confined behind layers. She, in a way, understood that.
« Kakashi… It's Obito. He's alive. »
Seven years ago, Awazu battlefield.
The cries and the shouting had finally stopped, and the field was silent except for the crows feasting on bodies let in the open air to rot. They had marched at dawn on Awazu, planning for a swift victory. Danzo's forces were expected to join them at the most crucial part of the battle, taking Tsunade's forces on the flank and crushing the Naras on their path.
Except they didn't.
The battle had been a long, exhausting bloodbath. Their forces were outnumbered, and Asano, feeling his death looming, had tried to order for retreat. The Naras had encircled them, and soon began a long siege were their forces were pushed either towards the river or onto themselves, piling up the living and the dead without distinction.
Sakura had fought and fought for her life, ignoring her muscles being torn and wounds being opened, climbing on top of bodies and horses and enemies to always keep on living, parrying, slashing, killing the way her husband had taught her to.
And what a pretty little job he did with her - she was all shiny armor and killing blows, she could feel her power oozing from her limbs and her sword. It was as if here was a pool of strength, right here, under her skin, and she was teasing with it, nearly reaching it, and each and every stroke at it made her strong like a thousand soldiers.
However, after hours of battle, Asano had taken her with their his private guards, thinned out to a dozen of exhausted men, to try to carve a path through the battle and escape. Their attempt had been stopped, and she had felt the sudden weight of a horse and its rider fall on her. Before she could react, her head ringing and spinning wildly, another corpse collapsed on top of her heavy armor, trapping her.
Before all her consciousness faded, all Sakura coud see was a tiny drop of sky, blue, fed by the rays of a high, proud sun.
Ironic, to die in the mud in such a beautiful weather, she had thought before passing out.
As she was only coming back to her senses now, with no sense of passed time, the first thing that struck her was the utter silence surrounding her. Not a breath nor a shout, nothing but blissful, frightening silence.
She extracted herself cautiously and with much effort from under the pile of bodies that had hidden her, and, centimeter by centimeter, crawled on top, aiming for that patch of blue sky she could still see.
Once she managed to climb out, she got up slowly, her legs aching and unsteady. As she looked around, her heart clenched. There were nothing but bodies left in the open air, flags torn, pikes and swords broken on the floor. Her head was still spinning wildly, and she felt a surge of panic nearly swooping her in.
She looked at her hands, clamped in her rich armor, all alone in the middle of this mass graveyard. She had blood everywhere. Under her nails, in the folds of her skin, on her face, in her nostrils. Each breath she took smelled of iron, burnt skin and death. She desperately tried to wipe herself clean, seeking her pure, precious, white little hands everyone kept complimenting her for, but it was as if there were stained, tainted, crimson forever. Her jade eyes were desperately coursing on the corpses around her, looking for something familiar, for softness, fondness, support, anything.
This was when she found Asano.
As she looked at him, his bloody face, eyes still open that were piercing right through her soul even in death, she felt a shiver. All that might, power, riches, to end up as another body on the battlefield, every bit as empty as the others, every bit as unknown. That thought, against all odds, comforted her. She was alive and he wasn't.
She was alive.
Removing her helmet and letting her hair flow freely, she raked her own hands through her tresses to untangle them. Her pink, precious, pretty hair was drinking the scarlet of her hands and dyeing with the mark of blood. She took one long, powerful breath, and exhaled, soothed. The smell of blood couldn't unsettle her anymore: she was the last soul alive on that battlefield, and the simplicity of that realization made her thrive.
She unsheathed the sword Asano gave her, pure beauty and craft, bloodied with their enemies' remains, to plant it at her feet, next to the Lords' head. She did not want it, not anymore. She turned her back away from the cadaver of her former husband, lover, and tormentor without a second look. The young woman could not handle his stare even from the other realm, much more like she couldn't have had for the past two years.
She removed her armor, piece by piece, her delicate fingers ripping on the wet tiles, her body too sore to move properly. The wind was blowing furiously while she was undressing in a mountain of cadavers, whistling at her ears like a disapproving matriarch. She kept her kimono, pants and boots, and, leaving it all here, near the open, blue eyes of what used to be one of the most powerful rulers of the nation, she started walking. It was one step after the other, slow, steady, and measured, every meter dragging her away from this torture and this sight. Every muscle in her body ached, and she felt blood running down her temple and right side. It was minor, she could feel it, but each move was painful. Step after step, rolling and sometimes falling down on corpses, she kept on walking towards the edge of the forest, where she knew she could find help.
She felt nothing. Not an ounce of guilt, pain, or despair when faced with the death of her husband. She was simply focused on walking away – from him, from this life, from everything he made her endure. Every single fibre of her being was screaming, but she was here, the pretty statue, the beautiful doll, the flawless toy, walking away from everything.
Just one more step, she kept on thinking, as her feet were rolling on heads and discarded weapons.
One more step.
One more step.
You belong to me, he kept on saying.
Not anymore.
Sasuke stopped in his tracks, feeling the cold press of a katana blade against his throat. It had taken them long enough, he thought – he had seen the scouts almost an hour ago, hearing them following him as he was walking deeper and deeper into rebellion territory.
He had nearly reached the natural enclosure wall surrounding their main hideout, a high mass of mountain pillars, uneven and steep, offering a perfect vantage point for Tsunade's troops on this side of the valley.
Ignoring the scouts closing in, he had walked closer and closer to the wall, disregarding the icy wind and the poor visibility the incoming snow storm was providing. His eyes kept studying the folds and collapses of the rocks above – did he have to climb them bare-handed to finally get noticed?
The man behind him was followed by a small troop – based on the sound of footsteps, the rônin had counted less than 15 people behind him. Swords unsheathing and bowstrings being pulled confirmed his initial thought: they were 12.
A brown-haired man with red markings emerged from behind a rock uphill, followed by a wolf-like white dog. He stood in front of the rônin, eyeing him with what could have seemed like tranquillity, his hands on his hips. The glint of his small sword, behind his back, confirmed however that the man was ready to strike if anything were to happen.
"You better have a good reason for coming back here, traitor" he spat.
Sasuke didn't dignify him with an answer, still looking ahead of the man, somewhere above in the boulders.
"Oi! Sasuke! Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" Kiba Inuzuka carried on.
Shadows shifted in the mountains, somewhat uneasy. The name of the last Uchiha had that effect, forbidden and cursed, bringing cold winds, blood and iron. He finally turned his onyx eyes to the man in front of her, sighing softly.
Kiba Inuzuka - he had brief memories of the man, or rather, the boy, as he had been in training at the Hatake estate. However, the Uchiha had no sympahy for him ; simply memories.
"I'm here to see the Slug Queen", he stated.
"Tsunade-sama won't answer to you, Taka. After what you've done, there is no room for a man like you in here. Turn around, or we'll have to kill you."
Sasuke couldn't help but smirk slightly, his eyes turning red for just a second, making Kiba take a step back. The man felt the edge of the katana at his neck, without a doubt held by a man he had no intention to look at, waver slightly.
Kiba pulled his wakizashi, putting it in front of him, in a defensive stance. Next to him, his wolf-dog growled, ready to pounce.
"I said, turn around. This is my last warning to you."
Sasuke, who already had his hand on the handle of his katana, let go in a whisper. He looked at the rocks above one more time, and this time roared with an echo low enough to make the earth around them rumble and shiver:
"Tsunade! Show yourself – Suzume needs you!"
A moment of silence stretched as the cold wind himself seemed to have taken a halt. Kiba and his men were looking around them, troubled and unsure of which way to go. Sasuke's eyes remained on the top of the pile of rocks, where, after what seemed an eternity, three silhouettes emerged from.
Two men, wearing the same high ponytail – the Naras, high counsellors of the Queen.
And, in the middle, a woman dressed for battle, her long blonde hair flowing freely, a fierce look plastered all over her regal features.
"Now, now, Taka", Tsunade said, "You've just become interesting."
Seven years ago, in the woods near Awazu
Tsunade couldn't believe her eyes, even after Shikaku had warned her. Their troops were resting in a camp in the woods, licking their wounds and honouring their dead before heading back to their base, victorious but exhausted. The whole camp, however, was rattled, and the men were whispering.
There had been sightings of a lone woman emerging from the cadavers, all red from the blood of her enemies, walking in their direction. A ghost, many thought; a ghost had risen.
Suspecting one final trick from Asano, Tsunade had surged to the edge of the woods with a few men to meet with this strange apparition.
She was still in the middle of the field, birds roaming around her but not daring to strike her, feasting on bodies in her path. Her hair, her skin was all red from their point of view, and she had trouble walking – how could she even stand up, if she had just gone through that battle?
She couldn't be one of theirs – all dead or injured had been accounted for – but Tsunade couldn't remember for the life of her seeing a woman in battle. Only rebellion ranks had welcomed females fighters, and a sight like hers couldn't possibly have been overlooked.
As the figure became clearer and clearer, clearly aiming for the edge of the forest, Shizune stepped to whisper something in her ear. Tsunade gestured to all of her men to go back to camp.
"Rumours said that Asano brought his young bride on the battlefield. I highly doubt it, but the men had his whims. It could be her. She has been sighted during several battles, fighting alongside him as any of his guards."
The figure was only a few meters away from them now, staggering with the same determination. She was, in a way, a real apparition – without armour, all painted in blood and without any weapon, her jade green eyes fixed on the women, stuck in between relief and supplication.
She couldn't be walking right now. Tsunade saw the characteristic bruises scattering the woman – those of a body piled under many others. She could also see wounds, somehow not bleeding, all over her strong body – the body of a fighter.
"Who was she?" Tsunade enquired. "The bride?"
Somehow, the woman in front of her was fading, and Tsunade could see the girl shivering beneath, on the verge of collapsing, on the verge of giving up, yet holding on. She was so young, she realised, barely eighteen. She could guess only the number of things a man like Asano could have had made her endure.
She looked like a small, frail little bird – but walked like a warrior.
"Sakura Haruno, my lady", Shizune whispered.
- END OF PART 1 -
Hello there!
Oh my god your reactions for the latest chapter were astounding! Thank you so much for your patience, for being here and hooked to this story. I started writing it a bit lightly but now, shit is getting serious lol. I've outlines of part 2 and 3 already in mind...
Next step - all of our heroes are heading either for the allied rebellion forces or the capital, and we will finally see other characters appearing from the series! Can't wait to get you there.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
In the meanwhile,
love,
uglypotato.