Chapter 4: In Which Nothing Goes as Planned

Optional Soundtrack: Boom, by Anjulie (Rumba, American style)


"What the hell, Sasuke?!" she yelled in frustration. "Was that really necessary? Did you really have to knock me unconscious again?" That unwelcome habit of his was one of her buttons, and like a petulant child, he kept pressing it.

The Sasuke in front of her stared her down coolly. "We are newcomers, virtual unknowns. We need to seize attention by any and all means necessary. I saw an opportunity and I took it." He dragged his gaze over her barely clothed form and she shrank instinctively from his eyes. "Besides, you need all the practice you can get. You're not dancing your best right now, you're too distracted."

Ugh. Sasuke was always most talkative when he was being critical.

She gritted her teeth. While he spoke the truth, she really didn't enjoy being knocked out with the Tsukuyomi technique. This was reasonable, she thought, considering how he'd used it the last time. Briefly, she wondered about the precise workings of the technique. If she was rude to his illusory stand-in, he really wouldn't know, right? Unfortunately, more important matters demanded her attention. "What about the competition?"

"It's fine. I saw four judges mark us already. And after intentionally destroying your clothes, tripping you and apparently knocking you out, that couple is going to be disqualified for poor sportsmanship and violence." His voice was calm, and only the faint trace of a smirk betrayed his satisfaction. "The first flight of the next dance is about to start, and there will be seven more before we're on again."

Eight flights, then, each lasting about 100 seconds if she factored in the time it took to walk on and off the floor. That was almost 15 minutes, which could last ages within the Tsukuyomi.

"Cha cha," he barked. "From the top."


She woke up after what felt like a lifetime, wondering why they hadn't thought to use that technique earlier. Sasuke usually had no qualms about flaunting his status as practically a demi-god.

"Lie still, Ugly," said Sai, pushing her back onto the bench. "I'm almost done."

The majority of the skirt had ripped off with the pink overlay, so he had cut away the tattered remains, leaving only the crystal-studded waistband and the panty-like lining beneath. To make up for this, he had sliced up the bottom of Sasuke's beautiful, silk robe and was fashioning a sort of slitted skirt by attaching royal blue panels to the waistband.

"Now stand up and twirl," directed Sai, leaning over to inspect his work. She did a little spin, and the panels fanned out fluidly around her.

"I look like a harem girl," she complained, craning her neck to look at the back. "And I'm cold."

While the new costume kind of covered more of her legs, it left more of the top exposed than she was completely comfortable with. She wasn't sure how she felt about the tradeoff.

Sai nodded. "I've read that many people, particularly men, consider harems sexy. I suspect that is why the advanced form of Naruto's sexy jutsu is the harem jutsu."

"Excellent deduction," she intoned dully, wrapping her arms around herself. "But not comforting."

"Oh. Well, don't worry," said Sai. "Nobody is even looking at you, if that's what you're worried about. I checked. The men here are all a bunch of flaming homosexuals, which means everyone in this room is ogling Sasuke."

Sakura gaped. "Has nobody taught you anything about being politically correct yet?" Judging from Sai's blank stare, perhaps not. She groaned and passed the buck. "Just ask Kakashi-sensei later, ok? And I'm still cold."

A wad of blue fabric hit her in the face, the remains of Sasuke's robe.

"Wear that," Sasuke muttered, staring intently in the general direction of the dance floor. Judging from the length of the line, the second flight of the samba was only just starting. The first flight had just gotten off the floor, and was circling around to line up for the third heat, the rumba. One figure broke away from the crowd, running towards them.

"Are you okay?" she asked Sakura. "Ah, I'm Naoko, by the way. It was really terrible what happened to you two, and I just wanted you to know that that is not what dance competitions are usually like."

Sakura looked at her curiously. There was no way Sasuke could have planned this interaction, too.

"How did you know we're new to this?" She looked at the ground, drawing from the timid mannerisms of her childhood. "I-is it that evident in our dancing?"

"Oh, no! That's not it at all," said Naoko. "We just didn't recognize you. Many of us have been competing for so long, we have an idea of who's who."

"Ah," said Sakura. "W-well, even if I haven't competed before, I've watched you before, a-and," she blushed, burying her face in her hands, "I'm a reallyhugefanofyours!"

She heard a quiet snort behind her. It was Sasuke, and she wondered what had put him in such a foul mood that he couldn't hold off on being rude for just five more minutes.

Naoko's look of surprise soon gave way to a warm smile. "Thank you. Just you wait, I'm going to take good care of you," she promised.

"NAO! Hurry up!" a voice called.

"Oh, that's Shin," Naoko said. "He's always impatient. He doesn't like me going off on my own, says it's for my own good. See you later…"

"Sakura," she supplied.

"Then, see you later, Sakura!"

Naoko waved one last time and ran back to her place in line.

"You laid it on pretty thick." Sasuke watched Naoko rejoin Shin, arms flapping excitedly. "Sakura. Remember they're not our friends. Nobody here is."

"I know," said Sakura. "But they're not necessarily our enemies, either."

He opened his mouth to respond, but had to end the conversation with just a reproachful glance when Naoko came running back.

"Before I forget!" she said, a slip of paper in hand. She handed it to Sai. "Your work is very innovative, edgy. This is my room number, please stop by later this afternoon."

Then she was off again, leaving Sai staring at the paper blankly. He wasn't even supposed to be part of the mission.

"Should I?" he asked Sakura.

Sakura shrugged. "I guess it couldn't hurt…"

"Hn," grunted Sasuke, which was about as close as they would get to his approval.


The rest of the morning passed quickly. Sakura and Sasuke took advantage of the long waits between dances to chat with the couples around them, trying to glean as much gossip as possible. It seemed the story of Yuzuru and Yuna was old news, so it was hard to subtly get more details, except that most people were convinced Yuna would come to her senses and return in time to defend her world title. They also looked for any students of the couple from the Land of Iron, with no success—this was no surprise, as they had probably chosen to compete at the Iron Ball. What was surprising was their difficulty in finding Daisuke. Because half of the couples were eliminated with each round, it should have been easier to find him as more and more time passed, provided he hadn't already been eliminated. But finally, only 24 couples remained, and they still hadn't seen him. So Sakura played fangirl again, asking Naoko and Shin about him. But Shin just made a face and Naoko told her, in very diplomatic terms, that he was famously abrasive and they were all better off without him.

When only six couples remained, they were dismissed. The afternoon session would be devoted to selecting the top six couples in a different dance category, which included the waltz and the tango. The final rounds and the showdances were slated to be the headline events of the evening's gala, to be performed before an audience that included the likes of the daimyo. So the latin dancers dispersed to nap, eat, freshen up, practice, whatever they deemed most important.

Sasuke and Sakura took that time to regroup and plan for the evening. Both agreed it was best to keep their chakra completely suppressed in public, in the unlikely case they were up against other shinobi. It wouldn't do to blow their cover so soon. They also agreed they needed to split up during the social components of the gala, like during the cocktail hour and during the general dancing for all the guests. This was mainly so they could investigate more people, but also to make them seem more approachable. Although Sakura was pretty sure Sasuke could draw a crowd even with her on his arm, she was less sure that any men would come chat her up with him around. The harder decisions were the details, like how they could keep track of each other in a pinch and under what circumstances it would be ok to break character. Eventually, they called a temporary truce in the name of food, grooming, and personal hygiene.

It was Sakura's turn to have the room to herself, and she had just finished shaving her legs when Sasuke knocked on the door. She glanced at the clock. He was five minutes early.

He knocked again, more urgently this time.

"Hang on," she yelled. "I'm getting dressed!"

There was an unreasonably short pause, then the knocking resumed. Did he not hear her, or was he just that dead set on resuming their debate? If it were truly important, she figured he would have teleported or broken down the door or something. So, she took her sweet time pulling on her usual shorts and overskirt. Then she threw the door open with an emphatic bang.

"For the last time, Sasuke," she snapped. "There is no way I'm letting you stick your snake up my skirt!"

Kakashi blinked at her. "That sounds like a personal problem, Sakura." He gestured at the door. "May I come in? Please?"

She nodded dumbly as he ducked past her and made himself at home on the extra plush loveseat.

"Thanks," he said, sinking into the pillowy depths of the chair. "The daimyo requested my presence as his special guest today, but he really just wants free bodyguard services. Apparently, last year someone tried to stab him with a hairpin. I really can't let him think he can get away with that, so I've been finding ways to give him the slip all day."

Abandoning the daimyo in order to teach him a passive aggressive lesson about shortchanging the Hokage was either very necessary, or very irresponsible, and she wasn't quite sure which. But that was just how Kakashi rolled. His thought processes weren't like those of any normal person—hence the unending layers of masks. She was a very bright girl, but even she had a hard time keeping up with that mind of his sometimes.

"Sai wasn't really here to be my makeup artist," she accused. "You brought him along to secretly babysit the daimyo while you ditched."

"Guilty as charged," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "With you three all on missions, I didn't want to risk him feeling left out. He probably would have run off to apprentice himself to the Sage of the Six Paths or something." He smiled wryly. "I never quite realized how much more attention I should have given you kids until it was too late, you know. That was bad enough, but it'd be unforgivable if I ever let it happen again."

Kakashi's greatest strength and greatest weakness was his tendency to torture himself by replaying the past in his head, over and over again. It was bad enough that she had once considered teaming up with Naruto to forge a posthumous Icha Icha installment, just to distract him.

"No," she said slowly. "We've been over this. You did what you had to during the Chuunin Exams. Unlike with Sasuke, there was never any risk that Naruto's opponent would kill him. And I didn't even make the finals. And there was nothing any of us could have done to stop Sasuke back then."

"Not Sasuke-kun?"

She flushed a deep red.

"W-what?" she asked, even if she knew exactly what he was getting at. What she didn't know was when she'd dropped the childhood nickname, and if it had any sort of deeper meaning, like a subconscious shift in how viewed him.

He peered at her over his mask. Even without his borrowed Sharingan, there were few people with better powers of perception than Kakashi.

"So," he asked, kindly dropping the topic. "How are you holding up, Sakura?"

He patted the seat next to him, and she gratefully accepted his silent invitation, momentarily forgetting that Kakashi had just commandeered her room and her couch. There were a million, easier ways to answer his question, and all of them partially true. He'd deliberately given her an out. But during the rare, precious moments like these, it was hard to hide things from him simply because he was so uncharacteristically open himself. Besides, she suspected there was nobody else who understood and accepted her feelings more than Kakashi.

"I'm ok," she said carefully. "Really. But Sasuke is such a hard person to love, you know? Yet I do. We both avoid getting too into the mission, but there are moments when I know I'm letting my feelings bleed into my dancing and I'm afraid people will notice." She sighed. "He probably sees it all over my face and just ignores it so he doesn't have to deal with the trouble. He feels so close, but I know none of it is real. When this is all over, I fear that just having had this small, false taste is going to be worse then never having had anything at all."

As she lapsed into pensive silence, Kakashi patted her hand.

"Sakura," he said, his voice gentle. "The hospital needs you. And I withheld information about the mission's conditions in order to get you to accept it. If this is too much of an emotional burden, taking you off this mission is easily justifiable."

"What would you do about Sasuke?" she asked. It was more out of curiosity than anything else: she really had no intention of dropping the mission. Kakashi knew it, too. But somehow, simply knowing she had the option was comfort enough.

Kakashi shrugged. "He could easily steal somebody else's partner. Or cross dress and dance with Yuzuru. He takes after his mother, and she was a real beauty."

Sakura laughed, which was probably exactly what Kakashi was hoping she would do. "It's ok," she said. "I'm feeling magnanimous; I'll spare him the indignity of cavorting in drag in public."

"You're a kind girl, Sakura." He ruffled her hair, and she basked in the warm feeling of his approval. "And I want you to know that I really do care about your wellbeing. There was only one reason I approved your assignment to this mission."

He hesitated long enough to glance around the room, then ducked his head to her ear. Sakura found herself leaning in, subconsciously holding her breath.

"I chose you because-"

Then the doorknob clicked, and they sprang apart as Sasuke walked in. He eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Oh," said Sakura. "You're back! That was so fast, Sasuke-kun. I'm done with the room now. And Kaka-sensei is, too. Although I guess it was never even his, anyway, so we're done and it's all yours. I mean, if you want another turn, that is."

God, there she was babbling all over the place and making them look even guiltier. Not that there was anything to be guilty about, because talking behind Sasuke's back was important and completely necessary for her mental and emotional health.

Sasuke shook his head.

"Well, don't mind me," said Kakashi, sweeping out of the room. "I was just leaving. Can't leave the daimyo hanging, you know." He glanced slyly at Sasuke. "I look forward to your performance this evening."

Sasuke just glared balefully at him.

"Oh yeah," said Kakashi. "Don't fail, you two. Unless you intend to let Naruto be the only shinobi bringing money into the village."

Then he was gone.


It was during the last dance of the finals when she spotted Daisuke. She and Sasuke were practically flying across the floor when she caught a glimpse of him in the audience. Their target must have been pretty wealthy because he had scored a seat in the middle of the front row. He was settled right on the edge of the dance floor, close enough that a girl kicking her leg out in a rondé had accidentally grazed his cheek with her heel. For someone described as having a violent temper, he seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Instead, as the song came to a close and the couple bowed, he leaned forward, kissed her hand, and whispered something. She tugged her hand away and practically fled with her partner, who looked fairly angry.

No wonder he hadn't competed. From the looks of it, their target was still searching for a partner.

In a moment of either insanity or clarity, Sakura saw an opportunity and decided she had every intention of taking it, plans be damned. Sasuke deserved a taste of his own shitty medicine, and if he had a problem with it, he could go suck it.

As the other set of finalists began their rounds, she left to go modify her costume for the showdance—it was Western-themed, complete with denim booty shorts and a cowboy hat—and she plotted.

When it was time for their showdance, Sakura stood alone in the darkness—she was supposed to take the floor first and do some fancy footwork for a bit, then Sasuke would come join her and spare her from further embarrassment. The spotlights flashed on, catching her in a blinding beam of light and following her as she strode onto the floor. Then she completely abandoned her choreography.

And her pride.


Off the floor, Sasuke watched her take her place as the lights came on, her hat tipped slightly forward and covering her face. The music started, and she looked up, threw aside her hat, and smiled mischievously at nobody and everybody. Instead of starting her proper sequence of predetermined moves, she sauntered over to the edge of the floor, coyly unbuttoned her shirt, then swung it around over her head like a lasso, revealing that stupid sparkle bra again.

Damn.

What was she thinking?

Was she even thinking?!

He knew she hated that bra, hated being cold, hated being practically naked for a million strange eyes, all of that. Seriously, she hadn't been able to shut up about it earlier. And he really doubted that Sakura, with her famous brain, was even capable of forgetting the choreography. But there she was, taking her precious time in the spotlight and wasting it on tacky, tasteless flirtation with the audience. She was practically on some poor idiot's lap by the time he decided it was time to reel her back in, storming across the floor to grab her by the shoulder and spin her around to face him.

She laughed in his face and stepped lightly around him.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

Shit.

God, she was so annoying.

He followed her and caught her wrist, forcing her to turn back and look at him. Then she winked, and he realized they were hand-in-hand in the middle of the floor, exactly where they were supposed to be, and exactly when they were supposed be there. There was no choice, then, but to smile and play along.

Not that he was going to make things easy for her, not after the shit she'd just pulled. If she wanted to deviate from the plan, he was quite capable of making that happen for her. And if she regretted it, that was her problem. He bent his head to hers, letting his lips brush against her ear as he whispered his challenge.

"Try and keep up, Sa-ku-ra. If you can, that is."


"That was ridiculously cute. And hot." Naoko insisted, since Sakura clearly wasn't buying the praise. "Especially the ending, where he threw you over his shoulder and stalked off the floor."

Sakura flushed. "I'm glad you liked it," she said. "We had to make some, ah, last minute changes to the routine, and I wasn't sure we pulled it off."

"Oh, you definitely did," said Naoko. "The chemistry between you two is just soelectric. I got chills when you were goading him and he looked so off-guard and annoyed, but then you winked and he justwow."

Sakura smiled and played with the medal around her neck—third place. They'd barely qualified for the world championship. "You were fabulous, too." That was an understatement. As Yuzuru had predicted, Naoko and Shin had won the whole thing. "Your lifts were so fluid and seamless, and so romantic. It was a perfect rumba."

"You're quite sweet." Naoko smiled slyly. "Speaking of romantic, you should have seen it when you passed out this morning and he carried you off the floor, princess style."

Since she hadn't woken up on the middle of the dance floor, she really shouldn't have been surprised, but it hadn't occurred to her to question it earlier. She'd been just a little too busy being pissed off.

"I—he did what?"

"He carried you off the floor! After he caught you, the way he wrapped you up in his arms was so heartrendingly tender. He usually looks so bored all the time, but when he's with you, sometimes you manage to pull such subtle, yet amazing expressions out of him. It really transforms your dancing, it makes it so real."

Sakura had to work rather hard to keep the humble, blushing smile plastered on her face. In truth, Naoko probably would have found the whole episode a lot less romantic if she knew Sasuke had knocked her out himself in a cheap bid for vengeance and attention. He had a bit of a problem, to be honest.

An elderly couple came by, then, and started to congratulate Naoko on her spectacular win. Sakura took the opportunity to excuse herself, as Sasuke had deemed her incapable of being impartial enough to investigate her friend properly. That was fine. She had other plans, anyway.

She passed by the bar, chatting with the bartender while he mixed her up a cocktail, something colorful, fruity, and secretly not even alcoholic. Prop in hand, she wove her way through the crowd, very glad she had chosen a sensible, black evening dress when someone jostled her and spilled a few drops of wine on her. Within seconds, it was dry and nobody could even tell. Black was nice like that—there was a reason ANBU wore black, and it wasn't just to help them hide in the shadows. It turns out black uniforms hid bloodstains pretty well, too.

She scanned the dim room, knowing that somewhere, Kakashi, Sai, and Sasuke were all going about their work, even if only Kakashi's chakra signature was detectable.

"Looking for someone?"

A warm arm curled around her waist and tugged, and she jumped at the bold contact.

Daisuke was sitting on one of the couches behind her, coaxing her towards him until she was caged in the space between his knees.

"I really enjoyed your show. We could continue where we left off earlier, if you'd like," he offered generously, all sly smiles and smoldering eyes.

His pupils were dilated, she noted, which was most likely a physiologic response to sexual arousal. Or drugs, but probably not.

Crap.

She realized, in that moment, that she was out of her depth. It was not that she couldn't take him on if she had to—she definitely could, and probably with just her pinky—it was more that she had no idea how to encourage his flirtations. Having spent most of her life horribly, irrevocably in love with a boy who had no time for such nonsense, she really wasn't well practiced. And while most people had figured things out during puberty, back when it was socially acceptable to be awkward, she had been so focused on reuniting her boys that she now found herself feeling like a gawky preteen, trapped in a 17 year old body.

"Oh come on," he said, rolling his eyes. "You're not actually together with your partner, are you? So it's fine. Live a little."

Sakura stared back coolly, boldly. "What makes you so sure?"

"Please," he scoffed. "I don't think there's been a single straight lead on the floor all day. Except for maybe that prick, Shin."

Really, flirting had been a lot easier on the dance floor, back when she was sure Sasuke would swoop in before the choreography was beyond salvaging and things got out of hand. Daisuke's arm was still wrapped around her, and she became hyperaware of its continued presence with each little motion she made. If she could have stopped breathing, she would have, if only to avoid the awkwardness of his touch. But she couldn't, so she settled on letting her lungs inflate less and less.

"That's a little rude, don'tyouthink?"

Her words spilled out in a breathless rush, not nearly as challenging as she had originally intended. But whatever he heard in her voice pleased him because he relaxed his hold and sat back, lazily rubbing a circle on her side with his free hand.

"Perhaps. But you see, I've discovered that girls like rude. They don't realize it, but they crave it."

She wondered how best to crush that thought. She needed information from him, so she had to act somewhat interested. However, on behalf of womankind, it seemed irresponsible to let him continue thinking he could get away with such a mindset forever.

"Ah, I knew it. You do, don't you?"

In her mind, she saw Sasuke's face momentarily, set in an irritable scowl. Daisuke was overly presumptuous, but ironically, he wasn't completely wrong. To be fair, though, it wasn't like she was specifically attracted to Sasuke's rudeness. She just liked Sasuke, who happened to be rude a lot of the time. And it was a different sort of rude, anyway.

"Kid, you think too hard. Relax." He patted his knee. "Aren't your feet tired from dancing all day? Sit down." Then he tried to pull her hips down onto his lap and she jerked away, unable to think of a way to disguise the motion fast enough.

"I can't!" she said, voice rising nervously.

And she really couldn't: instead of a kunai, her thigh holster held the smallest of Sasuke's summons, a young garter snake who was getting increasingly restless as the night wore on. If she sat down, he would inevitably notice the wriggling, and she really had no idea how she would ever be able to explain that one away. In the worst-case scenario, he might realize she was no ordinary dancer. At best, he'd think her a sexual deviant, and she didn't exactly want to go down that road, either.

He sighed, clearly losing interest and weighing the trouble he'd have to go through for her against his need for a partner.

He stood.

"W-wait!" she cried out, hugging his arm.

"What, kid?"

"It's one thing for a performance, but when it's real, it's embarrassing, especially in public." she whispered by way of explanation, burying her face in his sleeve for a moment. Then she turned away and downed her cocktail to stall while she tried to figure out what to do next, hating herself for ever thinking of attempting seduction on a mission that explicitly didn't require it, anyway. "But if I just have a little something to calm my nerves first…come with me?"

"Now you're talking." He offered her his arm. "You know, you're like a completely different person off the floor. But on the floor, the way you dance reminds me of someone…"


Over the course of his investigation, Sasuke had determined several things.

First, Shin was a cautious person.

Throughout the evening, he had never let go of his champagne flute once, his index always hovering over its glass lip. He had kept a watchful eye on Naoko's, too, shooting her sharp looks if ever she tried to put it down. At first Sasuke had wondered if he was specifically worried about being poisoned, thinking of the older couple from Iron that Miyuki said had tried to lace the water supply with drugs. Later, however, after observing a series of paranoid quirks—this included waiting to eat until at least 30 minutes after someone else had tried the same dish without dying, standing with his back to the wall even when it was socially awkward to do so, and systematically kicking open the doors to all the bathroom stalls before finally picking one and taking a piss—he decided that Shin was probably just the type of person who never entered a room without planning at least three escape routes. Or he was up to something.

Second, Shin was rather protective of his partner.

At the beginning of the gala, he had been somewhat reluctant any time Naoko left his side. Then Sakura had ended her conversation with Naoko and disappeared into the crowd. After that, Shin had refused to leave her alone, even when someone tried to drag her to the ladies' room for girl talk. Throughout, Naoko remained chipper, oblivious even. There was only one time when she slipped and rolled her eyes slightly. He suspected that she was not quite as clueless as she acted, at least where Shin's odd behavior was concerned, but that she had simply gotten sick of dealing with the situation. Really, Shin's conduct was odd enough that Sasuke wondered if there was a particular reason for it.

Despite everything, he didn't come across as a very controlling sort of man: he tended to sit back and let Naoko dominate conversations, to fade into the background and bend to her every whim. And this seemed to make him happy, just basking in her presence. This wasn't exactly an unfamiliar arrangement to Sasuke, who had seen it happen a million times, pretty much every time Sakura invited Ino out and the blonde showed up with another spellbound man. (It was because of these incidents that Naruto had mandated that Team 7 hangouts remain sacred, exclusive events, even if it meant he couldn't drag Hinata along.)

At any rate, Shin seemed to genuinely care about his partner and have her best interests in mind, even if it seemed to irritate her a little and make him come off a little strange. The only question was, was he willing to perform criminal acts, such as kidnapping, in order make Naoko number one?

Sasuke nursed this possibility, standing quietly in his corner, sipping his drink and deftly deflecting every other woman who tried to chat him up, and every single one of the men. He had decided he needed to interact with some of them, unfortunately, to keep up the appearance of being engrossed in the evening's festivities. The party had yet to show its first signs of dying down when Sasuke realized Naoko was slowly working her way toward him. He lowered his glass and nodded curtly in greeting. She bit her lip and pointed in the direction of the bar.

"It's Sakura."

He looked over, and saw a familiar pink head of hair bobbing over a little glass of something bright red. She was nodding sympathetically as a man—Daisuke—ranted and stormed, spilling his drink a little as he gesticulated angrily. A few drops splashed her face, but she didn't bat an eyelash, just reached over and patted his arm comfortingly. He grabbed her hand and was yelling at her when Shin suddenly appeared and pulled him away.

Sasuke drew a third conclusion: Shin was a pretty decent guy.

Beside him, Naoko bounced nervously on her toes and he felt a little guilty that her partner was endangering himself to bail Sakura out of a situation she certainly could have handled on her own.

"Thanks," he muttered discreetly. "I'll take care of it."


It was definitely true that inebriated people said some of the strangest things. Alcohol had the amusing yet dangerous ability to draw out the raw, primitive thoughts that sober people usual had the presence of mind to repress and reprocess. However, Sakura was of the opinion that it could not draw out thoughts or feelings that didn't already exist deep in the dusty corners of someone's brain.

It was for this reason that she was inclined to believe Daisuke sincerely had no idea what had happened to Yuna, and that he had never truly wanted her to disappear. Several shots and more than a few probing questions had reduced him to a raging, heartbroken, drunken mess. Of course, while she pitied him, it did not really make her think any better of him since he was currently channeling his fury into violence against a girl he barely knew, namely her.

So when Shin stepped in to help her, for no good reason except that Naoko liked her and that he hated Daisuke, she felt a special surge of gratitude for him, hoping Sasuke had found an equally good reason not to suspect him. She was pleasantly surprised, then, when Sasuke arrived at the scene and, after helping Shin drag Daisuke away from her, inclined his proud head to Shin in gratitude.

"You don't fucking understand!"

In true divo fashion, he had quickly reclaimed the spotlight and was beginning to shout again. People in the gathering crowd watched him with a mixture of disapproval and gleeful anticipation, as these sorts of events were never complete without a little drama. Or a lot of drama.

"I loved her, and she still fucking left," he spat. "If she hadn't fucking disappeared, I could have made her love me again."

He was frozen in time, she realized, trapped by the pain of a loss that had happened years prior. "Daisuke-san…"

"Shut up! I don't want to be fucking pitied, especially not by an inexperienced little girl like you, who probably hasn't even had her fucking cherry popped! Kid, you know nothing about love."

"I know enough," she snapped. "Enough to know not to force love on someone who will never love me back, when to let go, and how to face reality and move on."

Several things happened then. Daisuke lunged, only to fall short right as Shin tackled him to the ground. In that same moment, she found her elbow caught in an iron grip and was a split second away from ramming said elbow into someone's gut before she realized it was Sasuke quietly escorting her away. The gesture probably made him look like an appropriately protective partner to everyone else, but she was pretty sure his true goal was to protect Daisuke and to prevent Sakura from smashing his face in and blowing their already shaky cover. When they finally reached a table in some shadowy corner, he sat her down and practically threw a glass of water across the table at her, his face carefully blank.

"Sorry," she said. "But we've been friends long enough that I really hope you know I wouldn't have lost control or made a scene back there."

He snorted, arms crossed while he glared at a point on the wall just behind her head. "You mean more of a scene than you already did?"

"Well, not a crime scene, anyway."

"Hn."

And still he refused to look at her, only breaking eye contact with the wall long enough to toss back a shot of something that looked like vodka but was probably just water. They were on a mission, after all, and it was unlikely that anything—not even her little indiscretions—could upset Sasuke enough to make him do something so irresponsible as drink on the job. So she let him brood in terse silence, choosing instead to watch the security officers finally close in on Daisuke and relieve Shin, who was still holding him back.

"I think Shin is a nice guy," said Sakura, deliberately vague in case anyone happened to overhear, but firm.

To her surprise, Sasuke gave a curt nod. "Aa."

"And Daisuke is a douche, but I don't think he's bad, exactly," she continued, "just a misguided chauvinist mess."

"Hn."

"And Naoko-"

She was interrupted by a sudden flare of chakra in the distance, faint but clear. Across the table, Sasuke had already risen from his seat and was quickly scanning the room.

"-has been out of sight for far too long," he finished, his mouth set in a grim line.

With a few long strides, he was crossing the room, already melting into the throng.

"I guess I'll check by the restrooms," she called at his back, feeling a little lame.


It was Sasuke who found Naoko first. By the time Sakura skidded into the dim hallway, Sasuke was just punching a man in a dark suit, who dissipated in a cloud of soot.

"A clone," he grunted, irritated. At his feet, there lay an upended tray of empty champagne flutes and two women: Naoko, and one of the nameless waitresses. "The clone was casting some sort of genjutsu on her, and the woman kept trying to give her sips of wine."

She was unconscious but breathing, and Sakura was relieved to find her pulses were normal.

"I think she'll be fine," she said, quickly looking for any obvious bruises or scratches. She tossed Sasuke a vial. "Could you collect some of that champagne? I'd like to analyze it."

He complied wordlessly, both of them lost in their own thoughts. For better or for worse, it seemed she had gotten her wish: Sasuke seemed much less suspicious that either Shin or Naoko was the culprit.


2/10/15: It's been pretty much forever since I last updated anything, and for that, I apologize. Unfortunately, my current rotation is much more demanding than my previous ones were, but I hope to be able to update more reliably after this one is over. At any rate, I must say that I really, truly appreciate all the reviews and messages you guys have sent me for my various fics. When I finally logged in again, I was overwhelmed and so happy, yet sad I can't write more at the moment. Oh well -_-

AU Hospital Headcanon: While operating, Sakura and Tsunade's music of choice is Beyonce.