Author: Amaya
Editor: Aiko
Characters/Pairings: [Shisui x Sakura]; Uchiha Itachi, Team Seven
Categories: Romance, Drama, Action
Rating: Mature [See Warnings Below]
Warning: This story contains strong language, depictions of violence and mature sexual content including, but not limited to: breath play, superior/subordinate kinks, rough body play, power kinks and so on. You have been warned.
Full Summary: As the most elite of the elite shinobi to ever grace the village, Anbu operatives were easily some of the most frightening and striking characters one could come across. The way they protected the village while cloaked in shadows, appearing like some God-appointed deities when they were needed most and forgoing honor in exchange for anonymity—was as seductive as one could get. But to Sakura, the real allure lied in the deceptive red smiles painted on their masks, and in figuring out who was behind them. ["Don't start things you can't finish, Haruno."]
Kamen
Chapter || Three
Tsuande had never looked as angry as she did now.
As one of her two apprentices, Sakura had seen the blonde Hokage in a multitude of moods, furious included, but whatever she felt now was foreign to her. The blonde Hokage's posture told her that she was tired as she leant against her elbows. Her thin brows were knitted, drawing a series of wrinkles across her forehead and her nose was scrunched in displeasure. And yet, Sakura could see that her mentor's gaze was soft. Team Seven stood before her, postures straight despite the clear raggedness that adorned them, acting like the good shinobi they were, and features uncharacteristically hard. Even Konoha's resident loudmouth remained tight lipped for once.
"What the hell happened out there?"
"We were ambushed."
Honey eyes flickered to Sasuke, who had been the one to speak out. The younger Uchiha didn't so much as flinch at the cold expression that was painted across the Hokage's face, his own expression one of frustration. "Elaborate," Tsunade ordered, zero traces of concern laced in her voice.
Sakura's thoughts drifted as her dark haired teammate began the retelling of their mission details. The remnants of pain ghosted along her shoulder, hyper-sensitive to the material of her flak jacket at it brushed against the irritated flesh. Blood had dried to the front of the garment, having come from the relatively shallow gash across the crest of her shoulder. She had meant to heal it, but had been so focused on the stab wound to Naruto's stomach and the water-burn along Sasuke's arms to even think about her—purely cosmetic, she insisted—paper cut.
Their mission had been simple. The three of them had been sent to a small town about half a day away from Konoha called Shiroki, simply to show their presence. The little village had made complaints about a growing faction of miscreants who really weren't worth the worry; they were just some young kids who heard a few too many ninja stories and thought a sword on their hip meant they were tough. Tsunade could have sent anyone out there—a random Chunnin, one of her gatekeepers, even a squad of Gennin—to do the job, but sending Team Seven to act as an intimidation unit was smart. On the surface, they were strong-arming the low-leveled gangsters with glares and smile-hidden threats. Below that, they were sending a warning message to the Kusagakure nin that claimed to be "passing through".
They were nursing minor injuries at the time of their attack, nothing serious, just bruises and scrapes caused by scrimmages with the ragtag gang, but their attackers believed otherwise. Sakura had been the one who noticed them as early on as their first run in with the village's yanki, discretely communicating to her partners about the presence of the dozen Jonnin-ranked nin, and forged the plan of goading whoever they could into battle and over exaggerating the extent of their injuries. Their attackers underestimated the three because of this, believing Sakura had run low on chakra after healing her two exhausted and disoriented teammates, and that lapse in judgment proved fatal for them. Rather than encircling three bloody and limping Konoha-nin, the rogues were reverse-ambushed before they could even finish their speech about removing Sasuke's eyes.
She was just so incredibly furious that not only did someone threaten her family, but that those specks of scum talked about ripping out an eyeball as if it were just a kunai in someone else's pouch. She was so angry, in fact, that she was the one who initiated the first punch. That punch had been filled with so much rage, so much chakra, that her knuckles burned even now. She fell at least four dozen trees and upturned what had to have been a mile of earth with that punch. A little overkill, but well deserved.
Naruto and Sasuke had followed her lead by then, and together they managed to defeat every single one of those bastards. Except one. He had been taken prisoner and was having a lovely chat with one of the most bloodthirsty men in all the nations as they spoke.
Discreetly, Sakura shifted her attention to the three imposing figures that stood silently in the room.
Her stomach churned as she carefully studied the masked men standing before her. Something in the atmosphere put the rosette on edge without her realizing it. She blamed the waning adrenaline. Two were on either side of her Shishou, standing sentinel just behind her while the third stood behind her team. The hoods of their cloaks were pulled over their heads, their arms crossed against their chest parting the front of the black cloth to reveal the familiar pale white armor and animal-like masks. She recalled that the mask behind her was mostly unadorned, taking on the shape of some sort of feline or ferret with short, slightly rounded ears at the top edges of the head. A scarlet triangular stripe dripped from the forehead to the slope of the pert little nose, and three black dots were perched above each eye hole going from large at the inner eye to small. It's mouth was painted in a way that could have been a smile, but at another angle, appeared flat and unimpressed. The mask to the left of Tsunade appeared to be a mixture of a fox and a feline; it had a short but small nose, indicated by two little dashes along the underside, and two pairs of red lines painted like a loose wave along each cheek. The ears were long, pointed, and so far up on the head that they nearly connected, positioned like an anxious cat. He had been the one to apprehend the prisoner. The last mask with the wolfish smile, she immediately recognized.
She vaguely remembered seeing these masks back in the forest, during the ambush. They and several other Anbu operatives had appeared from the trees, slinking out of the branches like a bad omen. She had only noticed them when she had taken down one particularly annoying opponent, and once she had, she couldn't not see them. A shiver threatened to reveal itself as Sakura thought back to her battle, and how potent the weight of what felt like a thousand eyes was to her. She had only seen seven of them, but she knew there had to have been more watching from their hiding places. The thought of being surrounded by such powerful shinobi like that, being the focus of their attention, both terrified and entranced her.
Okami-san's mask shifted ever so slightly, so unnoticeable that she was sure it was a trick of the light. He had caught her staring. Sakura immediately looked away. The discomfort in her belly shifted, transitioning into something entirely different. She suddenly felt very warm. The memories of their last meeting, of her essentially naked on her doorstep, pushed to the front of her thoughts, mocking her. She forced down her blush.
Tsunade rubbed her thumbs over her temples with a frustrated grunt, which snapped for Sakura's attention. "Good job Team Seven. I'll be sure to relay your achievements to your squad leader," She praised, closing her eyes. "Get yourselves checked out. Sakura, I need you to stay for a moment." The men of the team left the room without a fuss, simply sharing a glance with their female counterpart before moving to stand right outside the door like they always would. When the door shut, Tsunade rose from her seat, rounding her desk to lean back against the front of it with her arms folded across her chest. "Sakura," She began.
"Shishou?"
"Good job out there," Tsunade gruffly commented. "I'm proud of you."
Part of Sakura felt uncomfortable for having such an intimate moment with her mentor with a handful of spectators, but she supposed it wasn't as if she had a choice. They wouldn't say anything unless spoken to, or if they felt it absolutely necessary, and it wasn't as if this was her first time in their presence. She knew Anbu members were always lurking around, unseen, whether it be in the marketplace or in the Hokage's office; she knew they were perched just below the Hokage's window where she would lounge whilst reading a scroll, always within hearing distance, and she was okay with that. Out of sight, they remained out of mind. But now, with not just one but three in the room, a furious whirlwind of anxiety and excitement and fear quickened her heartbeat.
Pushing aside her nerves, Sakura bowed in response to Tsunade's praise, thanking her quietly but with a grin. An experienced hand hovered over Sakura's shoulder where blood had dried over her wound, glowing with emerald chakra and carefully knitting the sliced tissue together. Immediately, Sakura tried to explain herself. "I meant to heal that. I just wanted to take care of—"
Leaning back against her desk, Tsunade waved her right hand once in a gesture that silenced Sakura. "While I understand your reasons, you still should have paid better attention to yourself," She scolded, but not unkindly. "You shouldn't have gotten injured in the first place, Sakura."
"I know."
The two women remained silent for a stint, their conversation muted and revealed only through their eyes. Finally, Tsunade's low growl reached the room, "To talk about stealing the eyes of an Uchiha so callously—from an heir no less—that's asking for death." Their eye contact broke when Tsunade stared down at her desk. "The Uchiha are going to want blood for this. I want you there when Ibiki interrogates the bastard. I want to know who they worked for, if they worked for someone."
If Sakura was surprised, she did not let on. Instead, there was a tantalizing fire in her voice when she spoke. "Of course."
"Heal him a thousand times if you have to. I want him to understand exactly what it means to cross the Leaf."
"Understood."
The Hokage glanced over her shoulder at the Anbu with the wolf-like grin, prompting him to stand a little straighter. Her nod was nearly non-existent, but she knew the masked shinobi understood exactly what she meant to convey. He gifted a nod in response, his stomach rising slightly as his presence flickered, and then he was gone.
Kamen
It wasn't often that Sakura had the pleasure of visiting the Intelligence Center. It was a rather medium sized building, it reached three stories tall and was topped with a bright orange rooftop, a sign outside indicating it's purpose. This building housed the Analysis Team, a branch of the Security and Surveilance Unit, and the Torture and Interrogations Unit, and was therefore considered the most secure structure in the village besides the Hokage's Mansion. It was guarded all hours of the day and night by not only the Police Force, but by Jonnin and even Anbu as well. Yet despite the guaranteed security, Sakura always felt nervous whenever she came around.
It wasn't as if the place was dark and dreary. The inside was actually very bright, perhaps too bright, and very, very clean. Maybe even cleaner than the hospital. And the men and women who worked inside weren't all cold people. In fact, most of them were very friendly, often waving at her or gifting a nod as she passed. Hell, many of them were patients of hers once, and very few of them gave her any impression that this was their profession. Perhaps it was because of that false sense of well, not innocence per say, but normalcy, that made her so uneasy whenever she came around. Some of the most painful, most disturbing injuries were acquired here, yet no one would ever know unless they were cleared to enter the lower levels.
Arriving at the front entrance of the building, Sakura paused before the two Jonnin who were on guard duty. She recognized one from their healing session a few days prior, but the other she wasn't so sure of. There were a lot of people in Konoha, after all. "I'm here on behalf of Hokage-sama," She informed, flashing her hospital badge. They scanned over her body and her badge, making sure she wasn't a fake, she figured, before they nodded and pulled the doors open for her. A masked man stood almost immediately to her right, a bulge at the front of his cloak indicating his arms were crossed beneath it, and his upper body pressed against the wall. The stance threw her off a bit. Anbu were trained to stand tall and at attention at all times during their shift, even while on "break". She had never seen one look so comfortable or disinterested before.
"Haruno-san." The operative pushed away from the wall, already walking further into the building. "The prisoner is ready for you."
"Okami-san," She greeted once over her initial shock. She followed after him, quickly catching up to Okami's form in a few quick strides. "How is he?"
The man in the mask glanced at her, his head tilted slightly as if he were confused by her inquiry. "Does it matter?"
They paused at the end of the hall where a lone plexiglass window greeted them; the man behind the window leaned forward at their appearance and pushed a clipboard through the opening of the glass in exchange for Sakura's ID badge. Huffing, Sakura scrawled her name on a clipboard. "I need to know what I'm walking into."
Sakura knew Ibiki's work better than almost anyone, seeing as how she worked closely with him on more than a few high priority cases like this. That man was beastly with his interrogations, with his methods ranging from brutal, bare knuckled beatings to sensory deprivation, to being confined in a stressful position for an undetermined amount of time. Knowing which technique or combination of techniques he used meant she could adjust her role accordingly as well as formulate a healing plan for her...patient.
All the Anbu said though, as he gestured to the door to the left of the window, was, "Knowing the status of his condition is beyond my directive."
Displeased, Sakura dropped the conversation then, and he didn't bother reawakening it. She approached the door, patiently waiting for the obnoxious buzzer to go off before pushing it open. No one looked up when she entered, all too focused on whatever it was they were doing to acknowledge her. Okami led her past the lines of desks and into the elevator, where she clicked the button for the basement then pressed a hand against the sensor and allowed her chakra to trickle through. The lift came to life, jerking abruptly at first before it lowered.
When they finally reached the lower level, where the T&I unit mostly operated, Okami took her to one of the windows near the middle of the hall, pausing to allow her to peer through the one-way glass. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the bloody and beaten man in front of her. He was secured flush against the wall by a series of cuffs that encircled him by the neck and the wrists, leaving him sprawled out defenselessly. Despite this, he held his chin high even with the blood that caked it, his chest fluttering with shallow breaths likely caused by a punctured lung. His red hair was plastered to his face, now nearly black in color and matted with blood and sweat while his lips bore a nasty split in two separate places. Sakura clicked her tongue at the sight, but didn't seem too bothered. She's seen much worse. She knocked on the window in a coded succession, indicating to Ibiki and his assistant that she was there, then entered the room with her escort. She acknowledged the infamous figure that sat almost casually atop the table centered in the room with a deep, respectful bow.
"Haruno," He welcomed with a hum. "He's all yours."
Ibiki rose to his full height, easily towering over everyone in the room, then made his way out the door without much more of a comment. His assistant bowed to Sakura, gathering the bloodied instruments scattered on the table before also departing from the room. Her Anbu guard remained silent, deciding to settle into the corner beside the entrance while Sakura got to work on repairing the injuries her comrade created.
Sakura didn't make an effort to abate any pain or numb any wounds, indicated by the darker forest green glow of her usually sea foam green chakra. Her hands worked over the man's chest, a fair amount of distance between them unlike the close, almost intimate closeness she used on all of her patients. The man jerked at her touch, letting out a haggard groan that increased in octave as she worked. She would treat him just enough to keep him from the threat of death, leaving him almost as broken and hurt as before her arrival. In their next meeting, she would heal him completely, using a slightly more soothing chakra, giving him a false sense of security, just for that comfort to shatter when Ibiki upped the intensity of his following session. Tsunade taught her that while her main priority was to prevent death in the intended in situations like this, it was also her unvoiced duty to make sure the affects of his interrogation lingered throughout the entirety of his stay until he either cracked and spilled whatever information they had to Ibiki, or was deemed useless and put out of his misery.
She would've cried once, just thinking of using her abilities this way. And she had. She had vehemently refused abusing her skills because as a medic, she was meant to heal and save. She sniffled and her knees shook the first few times, her stomach emptying almost as soon as she stepped foot in her home. Ino, Naruto and Sasuke were her crutch back then. But that was a long time ago, when she was young and naive.
"Okami-san," She called out, satisfied with her work. The officer immediately straightened. "I'm finished here."
Kamen
Steam rolled against Shisui's skin comfortingly, filling the bathroom until it resembled the mist in Kirigakure. He swiped his palm against the foggy mirror to take in his appearance, his mask laying innocently in the bowl of his sink and his armor abandoned in his living room, basking in that slight chill the glass offered his skin while his other hand disheveled his hair. A grimace made its way to his face as he felt the oils of sweat in his scalp, his nails jostling the dirt that had tangled in his hair. He tugged his shirt over his head quickly, almost angrily, before balling it and dropping it into the hamper against the wall.
He took in the remnants of his weeks-old injuries, gently probing the once tender suture sites but finding them no more sensitive than there rest of his skin. Pleased that he hadn't reopened any (because he technically wasn't supposed to be doing such strenuous activities yet), Shisui braced himself against the counter, dipping his head, then bowing and his twisting spine to stretch the kinks in his sore back with a harsh grunt. After a few minutes of this, he returned to his previous position hunched over the counter, frowning as a sharp pain abruptly bloomed at the front of his skull.
"God damn it," He cursed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm.
Exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, beating against his shoulders mercilessly, demanding he retreat into the comfort of his shower at that exact moment but he resisted. As much as he ached now, he couldn't find the will to step into his shower quite yet because he knew that if he did, if he stepped into the comfort of the heated downpour, he would be washing away the adrenaline that kept him upright.
He and his team should have arrived home hours ago. Their mission was easy enough, just taxing in more than one sense of the word. It was a week long affair that required the upmost delicacy and around-the-clock surveillance, and ended in a drawn out battle against Kirigakure's Anbu equivalent. Itachi had taken the reigns again, mostly because Shisui wanted his younger cousin to gain more experience and hardly because he felt the weight of the world on his bruised shoulders. And when they finally eliminated all of their targets and struck down their opponents and made the grueling fifteen hour trek back to their village, of course they had another delay.
A match seemed to have struck against the blood in Shisui's veins then, as he recalled the little hiccup that earned him a few extra hours of paperwork.
Flashback
The fire crackled, popping as it's flamed skirt danced around in intricate steps. Shisui stared blankly into it, his mask firmly set in place and his elbows propped loosely upon his knees. He was exhausted, his muscles sore; he couldn't wait to scrub all the sweat and grime away from his skin and wash his hair and turn in for the night. They were so close to Konoha that this stop was unnecessary, but the detour was more for Itachi's sake than his own. Genma didn't seem to mind the break either way, having busied himself with a series of stretches while the cousins settled in. Despite Itachi's indifferent exterior, Shisui knew the younger man was dreading their return home; he could see it in the way is cousin's shoulders tensed and how his neck muscles twitched at the mention of their village. Something had happened between him and his father, something that bothered Itachi so much that he hadn't spoken to even him about it, which worried the older Uchiha a bit.
Itachi would talk to him about it in time, so long as he didn't push the subject, so Shisui thought it best to leave it be until then.
He had a pretty good idea what their last conversation was about, anyway. As young as he and Itachi were, they were both considered old enough for a family according to their profession. Itachi especially was at the prime age to take a wife and bear an heir of his own, but it was pretty well known by now that he did not see that in his near future. As much as he loved the clan, he loved his work and village more. Itachi wouldn't even bother attempting to pretend he was ready to cross that bridge regardless of how much his father pushed, as he felt there was still too much to be done, and that his skills were still needed in the village. Shisui forced down the chuckle that bubbled in his throat; with how heavily his uncle pressed Itachi to take over his position, it almost seemed as if Fugaku really just wanted Itachi to take over so he could retire early.
The leaves overhead shivered then, instantly snapping Shisui out of his thoughts just in time for him to ground himself as the world began to quake. Subconsciously, his hand darted out towards his cousin's shoulder as if to steady him.
"What the fuck was that?" Genma asked once the ground's shuddering ceased. Birds flew overhead, screeching with warning as they darted towards the direction of the village, prompting the men to quickly climb the nearest trees to get a better view of the sea of branches. Sure enough, they found smoke swirling about the air quite a way's away, with several more columns of dust rising with bursting aftershocks. Judging by the distance away, that was sector eight, and would've been patrolled by a squad led by a man they knew as Fukuro.
Fire burst from the rustling treeline, unnatural winds making leaves and dust flutter, followed by neon blue streaks of lightning and a ferocious roar that would've made a normal man grimace.
Dropping to the ground just to kick dirt into the small fire, Shisui quickly sprinted in the direction of the commotion with his heartbeat in his ears. Itachi and Genma followed, adrenaline making them forget about the fatigue that weighed on them just minutes ago. They were too close to the village to ignore this. In his head, Shisui took stock of his remaining weapons; his tanto was fastened securely to his back, while his pack was heavy with five shuriken and a kunai. Not exactly the best arsenal to have in battle, but it would have to do.
He spotted several other shadows darting between the trees, likely other squads that were nearby, as they too rushed to investigate the disturbance around them. He ignored them, but kept his ears open as Genma questioned a tanuki-faced operative that flanked his side. All he was able to gather from their brief conversation was that an exhausted Jonnin squad was last seen in this area, having been reported by the previous sector's patrol on their return towards the village, meaning the squad was likely attacked while returning from a mission. He withheld a growl; shinobi were their weakest when on their way home, especially when they were so close to their village. Their guards were often left down due to their success and likely fatigued from travel and battle, making then the best time for an ambush. What a dirty, underhanded tactic.
Being a member of Anbu, Shisui couldn't say he didn't participate in similar, unconscionable stratagem. It was just different when it happened to his comrades.
He stopped a way's away from the battle's epicenter, close enough to observe but far enough away to remain undetected, encircling the battlefield with the other Anbu, and what he saw stunned drew a breath from his chest.
Team Seven stood at the center of what was once a blockade of trees. They were scattered, toppled trees and bodies surrounding them. Kakashi's squad fought against unknown faces, likely nukenin based on the lack of identifying markings and the coverings on the faces of their fallen comrades. The Kyuubi Jinchuuriki faced a handful of them, shadow clones disintegrating and reappearing as they ganged up on both his opponents and those of his teammates. Two of the smaller-bodied rogues had the mind to take on Sasuke as a pair, using mirroring taijutsu to distract the Uchiha who seemed to struggle as stray ninja attempted to join in every now and then. Shisui nearly tsk'ed; his baby cousin may have been proficient in taijutsu, but it appeared it was still something they would have to work on a bit more in the near future. And finally, there was Haruno. She took on everyone that came close enough, tearing them away from her teammates and taking them down with expertly timed attacks. She appeared overwhelmed for a stint, but didn't falter even when the nukenin smartened up and pitted her against a man who wielded a sword in his left hand and attacked her with movements so fast, Shisui considered activating his Sharingan.
He and the other Anbu remained hidden, waiting for the proper moment to intervene, if they even had to at all. He held little doubt that Team Seven would be able to hold their own; Itachi must have felt the same since he gestured for his squadron to stand down, as did the other captains a moment later. He tried to focus on the fight as a whole, vision darting from Sasuke to Haruno, back to Sasuke and then to Uzumaki; but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the rosette for long, to the point that he found her without his permission.
He recalled her sparring session with her squad. It had been a while—a week? Two?—but her unique way of fighting had been ingrained in his head ever since. She wasn't exactly holding back then, none of them were, but seeing her now in the midst of a real fight sent his skin rising in a mixture of captivation and arousal. If he was impressed back then, he was in absolute awe now. Her evasion skills were incredible, as she ducked and side-stepped and weaved in and out of her opponent's range of attack, which was to be expected given the nature of her occupation. She held her strikes cautiously, only striking when she had a clear view of her target, and every single blow was accompanied by an explosion of earth and dust. It was clear to him, however, that she was at a disadvantage here, as she obviously struggled with finding openings to get close enough to land an attack. Being a taijutsu specialist, kenjutsu was her likely one of her major weaknesses as it kept her just out of arm's reach, but she didn't seem too concerned about that. She transitioned from a high kick to a low one in seconds, not even needing to shift her position as she did so, then twirling on her planted heel to deliver a roundhouse kick that sent her opponent skidding across the ground and into a tree.
She didn't follow up with the attack as he expected her too.
Instead, Haruno remained in place, chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal, watching the rogue clamber to his feet. And it was in that moment, that Shisui caught a particular glint in her eye. It wasn't the same kind of mirth that he had seen during her spar with her teammates, but rather, one that dripped with unfiltered mischief. She was enjoying this. A smirk tugged at the Uchiha's lips as he watched the Jonin taunt her opponent with the wave of her forward hand, goading him to "come on". And he did. His sword slashed at her, being momentarily deflected by a wayward kunai that seemed to have come from Sasuke's direction, giving Sakura the opportunity to knock his sword hand to the side and deliver an uppercut into his chin, making Shisui commend their long-distance teamwork. The ronin stumbled back as a result of Sakura's punch, his free hand clenching his jaw, before he expertly twirled his katana around in a way that was meant to deter her. It didn't.
He faked a swipe to the right, redirecting his sword to jerk forward in an attempt at embedding into the rosette; she flipped away from it, kicking the sword into the air but the ninja deftly caught it, twirling it face-up so he could attack again all in one continuous movement. He advanced, forcing Haruno back as he swung at her, then spun on his heel to deliver a harsh kick that she bent backwards to avoid. Rather than utilizing the momentum of her dodge to perform a back flip as Shisui thought she would, Sakura dropped flat onto her back and pitched a volley of shuriken overhead in the direction of Uzumaki's fight, fluidly planting her palms on the ground above her in the same motion, then pushed back to her feet, smirking when she heard a pained "shit!" from an enemy. Her opponent was on her within the blink of an eye, slashing at her desperately, angrily. He nicked her once or twice, drawing blood to splatter against the ground, and it only seemed to make that fire in her eyes burnish brighter and brighter until finally, she gripped the blade when it had reached a downward position; blood oozed freely from her fingers, puddling below, but she didn't seem to flinch. She yanked down on the sword, pulling the man towards her, and swung her forward foot towards his head. His free arm shot up to block the hit then thrusted forward, his fist connecting with her cheek, but she had snapped his blade before she was sent careening back a few steps. Distanced again, Sakura raised her fists into her familiar stance, grin widening as her enemy threw his damaged sword to the ground with a huff.
The two reconnected, fists flying and kicks shooting out, but Jonin Haruno was in her element now.
She performed a string of seven kicks. One towards the hips with her left foot. Two with her right aimed first at the knee, the second to the waist. The next three were flutter kicks that alternated between her left and right and were all aimed higher, towards the chest. She finished with a spinning back kick to the head. Her opponent obviously struggled to keep up with her, managing to block the attacks aimed at his midsection but taking the brunt of the lower strikes. Somehow he managed to catch her ankle in her final kick, and mustered the strength to whip her to the ground. Rather than crash into the ground, however, Haruno firmly planted her hands beneath her, executing a flash kick that managed to nick the man's chin yet again. This time, a few teeth clattered to the ground.
Shisui hadn't noticed that his Sharingan had activated until he realized he was predicting their movements. The sensation was as if he were watching a movie he had seen before, a suspenseful one that had him at the edge of his seat, anxiously wondering what would happen next but also already knowing. He supposed he was experiencing secondhand bloodlust or something to that nature, what with the heat that coiled in his stomach and the fluttering in his chest, but regardless of the technical term, he was excited.
And then something happened.
There was a pained gasp, a feminine one that nearly coaxed a groan out of Shisui's throat, and the Hokage's apprentice was frozen in place. Crimson eyes narrowed, focusing on the broken blade that now pierced her right shoulder. Her right arm was raised, outstretched fingers coming just short of her opponent's chest; he was all but pressed against her, his own hands oozing blood from the other end of the blade he had stabbed her with, looking just as smug as he was surprised. Itachi shifted at Shisui's side, clearly prepared to leap into the battle despite the hand that shot out to stop him. Around them, the other Anbu began to move as well, but Shisui remained as still as possible, unable to tear his glowing gaze away from the scene before them. He waited patiently, observing the hardly there tremble of her hand. His body thrummed with heat to the point that he openly shivered.
And then she was smirking.
Trees began to shatter, the debris flew past Shisui, making him raise his arms to protect himself from the clumps of rock and branches that shot towards him. Itachi and Genma did the same, grunting as stray rocks pelted them. For a long moment, Shisui didn't move, taking a little longer than normal to process what the fuck he just saw. Haruno had punched this guy from an inch away. An inch! She didn't cock her fist back. She didn't even move. One moment, her palm was flat, fingertips outstretched and barely brushing against her opponent's chest, and the next, he had flown through at least a dozen trees and her fingers had curled into a fist. Sure enough, when the dust settled, the medic remained standing at the center of the battleground, her opponent no more than a lifeless pile of organs and limbs in the dirt. She was breathing heavily, grimacing and crying out as she yanked the blade from her shoulder. She gripped the blade, spinning on her heel and jabbing the weapon down into the trapezius of a kunoichi that had tried to get the jump on her; when the girl crumbled at Haruno's feet, the rosette pitched the same blade across the battlefield, just missing Uzumaki's head by a hair and impaling another shinobi's hand to the trunk of a tree.
Shisui committed it all to memory.
A moment passed. Then two. And then Itachi dropped to the ground, followed by several other operatives, but their presence only seemed to stun her momentarily. He dropped down as well, directly in front of her and so close that he could make out every mark that marred her form, quickly assessing the extent of her injuries. She met his eyes—all of their eyes—with salacious, battle hardened ones that made a shiver crawl up his spine. She lifted her hand to her face, forming a fist, then flicked the edge of her nose with her thumb with a "hmph" then darted off towards her closest teammate to help finish their battle, leaving the Anbu to deal with the corpse at their feet.
End Flashback
Shisui's fingers grasped the edge of the counter so tightly, his knuckles lost their color. He leaned closer towards the sink, his hips pressing against the lower cabinets. "Fuck..." He closed his eyes tightly, replaying the entirety of Sakura's battle over and over again. Just remembering her body twisting in such impossible ways with that mischievous, teasing grin in place made his whole body burn. He rather liked that battle-drunk look on her.
And her hands, with their long feminine fingers wrapped in worn leather, coaxed the fire that began to rage under his skin to burnish brighter, stronger. He imagined those hands against his chest, clawing down his back. His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of both his trousers and his underwear, releasing an ache that bounced against his navel mockingly. His hand immediately came to his pulsing member, a hiss leaving his lips the moment his fingers encircled his length.
Hell, if this was the result of her wrath, he could watch Sakura fight all day if it were possible. She had looked so confident and powerful and downright sexy in that moment. It painted a completely different image of the polite, reserved girl that ran her hands—those same hands whose knuckles were now stained with blood—along his body so professionally. She was always so serious, so proper, so boring. Up until now. The woman that he had seen in that forest was an entirely different one than the one in the hospital. He decided then he wanted that woman.
His hand traveled up the length of his manhood, slowly, loosely. He twisted his wrist languidly, breathing heavily through his nose, picturing his hands as smaller, more slender ones. Pleasure trembled against Shisui's spine in the form of a shiver as he summoned that ethereal glow of her eyes, vibrant from battle to his memory. Idly, his thumb ran along the tip of his shaft, smearing the sheen of his arousal against himself, so his hand moved fluidly along his flesh. His tongue slipped past his lips, wetting them as he exhaled harshly through his nose. "Oh fuck," He breathed again, but raggedly. The back of his head touched his spine, cheeks twitching and pink. His grip tightened. His pumps quickened. Shisui's free hand left the countertop to comb through his unruly locks, tugging them lightly with its descent, trailing down his neck—down his chest, over his pebbled nipple—his stomach fluttered.
He wanted those war-drunk eyes looking up at him. He wanted to run his own hands over that lithe torso, over those pert breasts until his palm covered the scar that would mar her right shoulder. He wanted to dig his nails into that shoulder for purchase and snap his hips against hers.
Shisui's fingers stilled at the base of his cock where they tightened just a little more. With his thumb and index fingers encircling his girth, Shisui stroked the sensitive skin that stretched just beneath with his middle finger. He caressed the line along the seam of his balls which in turn made him lurch into his hand. His free hand cupped them then, massaging them while he returned to stroking himself, faster then slower, then faster again until the roaring flames of his frenzied arousal nearly made him sway.
His sharp, little pants echoed around the bathroom.
He recalled the image of her near naked body for what had to have been the hundredth time. First with her sports bra and little black shorts and those tantalizing boots laced to her knees, sullied with training and skin flushed with sweat; then with nothing to hide her skin. He imagined that body under his, writhing against the sheets, the wall, the ground. Then he envisioned those pretty eyes of hers, fiery olive with bloodlust but still so fucking innocent, gazing up at him from her knees.
The desire to spar with her ebbed at the back of his mind once again. He suddenly wanted to fight her himself, wanted to see her movements up close—see if she could handle him.
He remembered her scent—aroused because of her own hands. He knew what she had been up to when he showed up that night. At first, he wasn't too sure. That scent that was entirely hers, womanly, piquant, was so washed out when he finally noticed it that he could have brushed it off as his imagination, and he did. But the more Shisui thought about it, remembered it, the more confident he was that pretty little Jonin Haruno was touching herself.
Abruptly, Shisui's breath escaped him all at once, hitching and transitioning into a strangled moan while his body quivered. His hips bucked tiredly once more, twice, his hand stroking relentlessly until his fist stilled at the head of his cock; he let out one last "fuck" as milky strands splattered against his mask and dribbled over his knuckles.
Author's Note
And that's, that. I honestly hadn't intended on writing Shisui's steamy bathroom scene; that was never in the original document, but because it felt so short and I obsessively wrote and re-wrote this chapter about five times, it just sort of happened.
Oh well. You're welcome.
Amaya