Fourteen: Revulsion
Author's Note: Whoa! It's been a while since I've updated. Well, I figured since I've gotten some positive reviews lately, I might give something back. So, big thanks to… well, to everyone who reviewed! It really does mean a lot.
This chapter is pretty large, and I wonder if it's too… cumbersome. I usually don't write 'action' scenes this long, so we'll see how it goes. I'm sure someone will let me know how this boat of a fic navigates.
On an unrelated matter, is anyone else totally f#$ing psyched for the new Elizabeth film? Maybe I'm just an insufferable history geek. God save the motherf&#$ing Queen. I will go back in time and marry you, Elizabeth.
(It's funny how I feel guilty about swearing in the author's note, but clearly have absolutely no problem liberally dousing the actual fiction with profanity. I shouldn't swear as much as I do, anyway. It's unladylike.)
Ino leaned her back against a tree, uncrossing and recrossing her legs at the ankles. She had one arm wrapped around her own stomach, the other bent up at the elbow, two fingers pressed against her arching eyebrow, right over the spot where a persistent headache throbbed mercilessly. She didn't have the patience for this sort of thing, this banal civilian drivel, the backwater attempts at charm, all crooked-tooth grins and unshaven faces. Even their voices, heavily accented with the twang of ignorance, were starting to get on her nerves.
Tenten was apparently much better at this sort of thing, although despite her smiles her eyes darkened with increasing pique. Her tone was of endless patience and optimism, a virtue Ino recognized but couldn't be bothered to envy. Despite the fact that all of these stupid militia outposts were exactly the same, dealing with their lookouts didn't seem to get any easier with practice, and the information they volunteered was often contradictory or outright wrong. Ino left each one with her fingers clenched, her teeth gritted, her insides taut with frustration. She wasn't even sure why they bothered talking to these hicks.
And where the hell had Sakura gotten off to?
A particularly raucous salvo of civilian laughter set Ino on edge, and the ripple of half-whispered retellings and gruff chortles knocked her clear over it. Uncrossing her legs, she pushed herself away from the tree and stormed over to Tenten. The brunette glanced up from where she was crouched on the ground, talking to the self-appointed captain, and watched Ino approach with her eyes slightly narrowed. Ino found no discouragement in the older girl's eyes. "Enough games," Ino snarled.
The captain scrambled to his feet to meet her, and Tenten rose beside him, silent and agile.
"Listen, captain—" she began, her words distinctly edged, tainted with contempt.
"What's wrong?" He started. "Are—"
"Don't interrupt me," the blonde warned. "Just answer me this one question: do you have anything of worth to say?"
The captain blinked.
Ino stepped into him, her fingertips fanned over his narrow chest as if in an attempt to minimize her physical contact with him, and shoved him off a few steps. "We're leaving," she told Tenten.
The brunette shook her head, but shrugged and followed.
"Wait, wait!" the captain called! "Hey, beautiful, come back here a second."
Ino pivoted and stormed back to him, the look on her face effectively draining him of all insufferable machismo. "I hope to god you're the first to die," she told him, quietly sibilant. The captain went pale.
When the outpost was finally out of sight, Tenten spoke up. "I'm not sure you should have done that," she told the blonde, exasperated.
"I don't care," Ino replied, sufficiently calmed to carry on a conversation.
"Ino, this isn't going to work—"
Ino came to a stop, giving Tenten a look that dared her to continue. The brunette seemed unfazed by the inherent threat.
"I am the cell leader, and I'm tired of you chafing under my leadership every time a decision is made. I'll ask for your opinion, but when I decide on something I expect you to follow through on it and not go storming around uttering death threats every time something gets on your nerves."
The years seemed to slough off Ino. She looked suitably chagrined, even hurt, and humbled. She looked sixteen again. She bit her lip.
"You need to pull it together," Tenten told her quietly.
"I know," Ino agreed.
There was an awkward silence. Tenten knew better than to wait for an apology from the blonde and so she simply turned and continued walking. "You know, at the very least I hoped to wait for Sakura to get back before we left."
Ino shrugged. "She'll find us."
"That's not the point," Tenten snapped, irritated.
Ino didn't say anything, knowing full well she was in the wrong and also fully aware of how immature she was being. She felt noticeably calmed after their departure from the outpost, her frustration dissipating quickly, proof of its ultimate superficiality.
They had been travelling for nearly fifteen minutes when Tenten spoke again. "Where the hell did she go?"
"For a smoke?" Ino offered blithely.
Tenten gave her a look.
Ino was tempted to tell her to lighten up, but any chance for friendly banter quickly disappeared as a massive explosion rocked the forest around them.
Sakura had launched herself clear of the exploding tags but was not expecting an explosion of such magnitude, nor was she quite expecting the earth beneath her to suddenly burst into flames. Pelted with stones and chunks of wood the sizes of fists and skulls, she shielded herself with one arm as she landed, her feet skidding on grass slick with some sort of oil, colourless but acrid. She lost her footing and dropped her other hand to prevent herself from falling, bare palm slipping in the grease, sufficient to regain her balance.
She hadn't seen her attacker, had seen nothing but the exploding tags as she crept forward to investigate the apparent oil spill that dampened this part of the forest – an oil spill now transformed into a veritable inferno. Now, stunned from the explosion, her eyes and lungs burning from the thick black smoke, she searched desperately for the enemy. Higher ground was out of the question – that would put her right in the thickest of the smoke, but with the earth around her in flames, a ground battle wasn't much of an option either.
But, if she were in control of the situation, the only place she would be is---
Up!
The figure descended on her with a speed that failed to match her reaction time. She cartwheeled suddenly sideways, dodging the flashing shuriken that preceded his descent. He stayed on her though, following her every move, a split second behind her every desperate evasion, knives flashing mere centimetres from flesh, close enough that she could hear them cutting through air, close enough that she could hear his breathing – harsh and mechanical sounding. She caught glimpses of him; his face was obscured completely by some sort of breathing apparatus or gas mask, stylized vicious with animalistic features, the forehead adorned with the barely visible mark of Iwagakure, the piled stones, carved right onto the mask.
She was in a bad place.
She struggled against the treacherous footing, hardly able to breathe, her eyes watering. His knives nicked her once, twice – stinging pain lancing across a shoulder, across her hip. She saw his spinning kick a split second before it would have connected with the side of her head, managing to bring up her forearm to shield herself. The blow still connected hard enough to knock her sideways. Her feet went out from under her and she rolled, trying to regain her feet, suddenly feeling dampness soak into her clothes, got back on her feet. She saw, then, a split second opportunity – her awkward fall had sent her in a direction he hadn't been expecting – and surged to the offensive.
Fists swinging, she sought desperately to connect – just once, just fucking once, that's all I need – but he was dodging, slowly, almost coyly, as if he imagined he was playing with her. She kept swinging, kept him on his toes, kept him in retreat, each time just barely missing, feeling his clothing on her knuckles but not the flesh and bone beneath.
He backed himself up against a tree.
Sakura let out a shout, chakra firing within, accumulating visibly.
Her attacker dodged – straight up – just as her fist struck wood, and the tree trunk exploded into toothpicks.
She heard him gasp in shock – that mechanical intake – her eyes following as he hurtled himself as far away from her as he possibly could, landing on an opposite tree branch in a crouch. He hesitated, ready to dodge again, but Sakura didn't move. She grinned, taking the opportunity to catch her breath, revelling in his sudden terror at her freakish strength, in the sound that the tree she had just torn in half made as it collapsed behind her. She could almost hear his thoughts racing, rethinking his strategy in light of her blatant declaration that the ground game was hers and hers alone.
But then again, she was soaked in this strange oil, and the fire behind her was rapidly spreading.
Time to act.
Chakra was redirected suddenly to her legs, powering her sudden surge forward with an incredible speed that he couldn't match. He flung himself backwards, away, but she caught the branch he had been on, redirected her momentum, throwing her body forward with all her strength. She caught him mid-air, planting both feet on his back and driving him face-first into the ground. She didn't allow herself even a moment's feeling of triumph – feeling something wrong, something off, the moment she connected with him – and was leaping away as the replacement technique dispelled and his wooden substitute practically dissolved into splinters.
She landed hard and pivoted, bringing her heel up and back in an arc that connected as he came down after her, though he caught her foot in both hands and used the force she had provided to push himself away again. Mid-air, hands moving so quickly, forming seals – tiger, horse –
--- Oh, god-
Panic.
Her hands raced to form seals in response – the only strategy she could come up with in the split second before he landed and completed the Goukakyuu no Jutsu – completing the Bunshin no Jutsu with time to spare.
Seven perfect copies of Sakura broke and scattered, the first two caught instantly by the immense gout of flame, instantly dissipating. The five remaining moved to circle 'round, flanking him from every conceivable direction as he pivoted, spraying his surroundings with flame, igniting everything within an eight-meter radius. Another clone was caught and dispelled, then a fourth. Out of time, out of space, three Sakuras converged on him, cutting his technique short. Not sure which one was real, not sure which attack to block, he simply stood there, crossing his forearms in front of him, bracing for impact.
She rammed into him from behind, knocking him forward into his own flames. He staggered through, spinning to block as she came rocketing over the inferno after him, hit him so hard she spun him right around again, then hit him again, and again, crushing blows that drove the breath from his lungs. Her fist struck him full in the face and his gas mask shattered, pieces of it caught between knuckles and flesh and cutting deep into his cheekbone and eye.
She had him.
She seized him by the front of his clothing, pulling him back from the impact of another blow, felt the heat of the chakra accumulating in her other hand, feeling her shoulder muscles straining with the force of what would be the killing blow ---
She could see the panic in his eyes, the utter despair.
Metal flashed just as she threw her punch. The knife blade sank in deep, between the twin bones of her forearm, the momentum of her own movement causing the kunai to cut deep. She could feel the weapon inside her flesh, felt it score bone, felt her nerves ignite in agony. Her concentration shattered, chakra dissipated, and her wrist collapsed on impact with his jaw. She had still hit him hard enough to stun him, but all of her inhuman strength was suddenly gone from the attack. He slipped back and out from her grasp.
Fuck! Fuck! Kill him!
He took two staggering steps backwards before he wrenched his body around and turned to flee. She caught him then, just as he turned, her left fist connecting with his hip awkwardly – a desperate swing of a punch, almost idiotic in its execution, half-powered with panicked concentration, insufficient – and his pelvis shattered on impact.
He went down as if he had been struck by the weight of a mountain, crippled, half-blind, helpless.
Sudden movement caught her attention and Sakura looked up from her attacker, fearing that his companions had arrived. Instead – instant relief flooding through her – her own had come. Ino and Tenten launched themselves past and beyond her, aiming for targets Sakura hadn't even been aware of. She spun around, caught Ino's flash of movement as she hurled an entire brace worth of knives at a target, a second figure wearing a gas mask, who then turned his attention from the wounded Sakura to Ino.
Their timing was nothing less than impeccable.
A third figure was there, holding back. There was something large and cumbersome on his back, though Sakura couldn't tell what it was before Tenten forced him into retreat, wielding a summoned weapon. It was an outrageously oversized kusarigama, a massive scythe with a weighted chain affixed to the handle, an insane double-threat wielded by one of Konoha's foremost weapons masters.
Ignoring the shinobi she had downed, Sakura took a couple staggering steps after her team mates, intending to help, but a hideous agony in her arm slowed and then stopped her. She looked down, saw blood, saw metal, saw bone. The colour drained from her face.
Knife -- oh god, there's a fucking knife in my arm --
Trembling hands pulled the weapon from her flesh, felt the lukewarm metal snaking through her muscle, a sudden surge of nausea, barely controlled. The knife clanked faintly as it hit the ground, Sakura's trembling fingers, covered in oil, prodding gently, trying to press her flesh back into shape where it had been slashed open, pushed up and out. Hideous, hideous work, and all she could feel was the pain, and she could hardly see through the smoke, could hardly breathe.
She hated the blood, couldn't even look at it, couldn't even salvage a semblance of concentration needed to heal herself. Palpably, painfully, all semblance of discipline and professionalism dissolved within a matter of seconds. Oh, god. This isn't what I want. This isn't where I want to be.
Her knees struck the earth and she retched violently, coughing hard.
Too much, too much, her mind reeled. I'm sick, I'm so sick---
--- of the blood, of the violence, of everything that was her entire life and everything she had ever known.
Everything.
Sakura glanced up, panicked eyes searching for her two team mates. She found them, after a moment, through the shifting smoke. Both had converged on the shinobi carrying what looked like a massive gourd on his back, much like Gaara's, similar, but even bigger. There was only one left – Ino had dispatched her target far more efficiently than Sakura had managed hers – and the two-on-one odds made it a quick fight. Ino's movements were terrifying in their speed and grace, perfect textbook execution, efficient. Tenten's kusarigama was all flashing steel and winding chain, and Ino dodged in and out of the shifting, whirling flurry of attack as if she and the weaponmaster were of one mind.
She could see that grin on Ino's face. Smug. Arrogant. No; simply confident. Comfortable. Ino was at home in the violence, that familiar ground. She was inordinately good at it.
Ino was born to hurt other people.
Sakura, it seemed, was not.
There – one misstep, and the enemy shinobi was caught in the chain, seized, immobile, as the weighted end spun round him once, twice, and cracked hard against the gourd on his back. It shattered around him, a sudden torrent of released oil pouring over him, soaking him completely. He screamed, his voice garbled, his mouth filled with the acrid substance.
Tenten and Ino sprang away at once, a single kunai wrapped in a visible exploding tag leaving the blonde's fingers a split second before the explosion engulfed him, ignited him, and drowned out his hideous scream as he burned alive.
Oh, god.
Sakura stared, transfixed.
Oh, god.
Hands were grabbing at her, pulling her up to her feet. Voices were shouting at her but she couldn't hear what they were saying.
Oh, god.
And Ino's eyes, alive, so alive. With triumph. With pleasure.