Ricochet

By Leanne Ash

Chapter 3

"Red, black, red, black..."

The quiet mantra repeated itself from barely moving lips.

"Red, black, red-"

"Sakura!"

The pink-haired girl clung to a single shard of glass and watched her reflection. The sharingan spun. It was fine, she told herself. It's fine. It works. It's there.

Sakura had climbed out of a back alley dumpster in desperate search of a reflective surface. Eventually she found a discarded vanity mirror and smashed it to pieces with a swift kick from her titanium heel.

She had taken a small shard captive and sat hidden behind the large dumpster that had previously broken her fall. She sat, watching her eyes, ridiculing the flawlessly operating sharingan, ignoring the throbbing pain in her side from her unceremonious fall.

"Black, red, black..." she continued to mumble. You sneaky, son of a bitch...

"SAKURA!"

The sound of hurried footsteps bounced off the narrow alley walls. Kiba had found her. Her sharingan worked fast to alert her of the familiar presence moving quickly in her direction.

"What are you doing? We have to go! The police are starting to arrive!"

"I know, I know! I just-"

"Get up!" Kiba ordered as he reached down and grabbed the collar of Sakura's jacket. "We're okay! You're okay! The mission was successful, but we have to go!"

He yanked hard on Sakura's collar, forcing her to her feet but ultimately snapping her out of her trance. She hissed in response to the abrupt movement as pain flooded her side.

"Are you hurt?"

She stubbornly brushed aside the pain and focused on the matter that troubled her.

"My sharingan..." she tried to explain as Kiba dragged her from the alley. "Did you see? Did you see what happened?"

"I saw," he said hurriedly, turning his head around behind them. "You glitched."

"It just... turned off. Why would it turn off?"

"Kinda need you to concentrate here, Sakura!"

The two of them had been paired up for an assassination mission. The target was a small, newly formed group of gangsters that needed to be eliminated all in one go. They had infiltrated the gang's private VIP poker room at the casino disguised as servers, and, with Sakura's unique skill for distraction, they had all been successfully poisoned by the beverages she served them. Not one tickle of suspicion from anyone.

"That was efficient," Kiba praised after the last head hit the table. "They didn't choke or complain or anything. What was that?"

"Developed it myself in the hospital lab," she replied absently, keeping her eyes from the table of men that perished under her skillful hand. "No smell, no taste, no color."

"You're really gunning for that nerd label, aren't you?"

After discarding their server outfits, they had climbed out the window and scaled the building in order to escape as the sounds of panic began emitting from the VIP room.

With their sharingans activated, walking on the impossible narrow ledge seemed like a stroll through the park as it secured their equilibrium, gave them night vision, and let them know precisely where their hands and feet should go to ensure the highest probability of stability.

Everything had been fine as they headed toward the fire escape on the other side of the building. Everything had been fine until the red layer in Sakura's eye vanished with a simple blink. Her vision went black, as it would have for an ordinary person with unadjusted vision in the dead of night. With her balance compromised, she had felt her blood run cold as quickly as her foot missed the next stop and sent her stumbling off the ledge.

Sakura had reacted quickly though, grabbing the ledge with her right hand.

"Sakura!" Kiba hissed in alarm, his vivid red eyes being the only thing she could make out in the darkness. He made to turn back and help when she shook her head quickly.

"Go!" she whispered as she hoisted herself up so her left hand could grab the ledge as well. Closing her eyes tightly, wishfully, she summoned back her sharingan. It worked - much to her immensely grateful, yet ungrateful, relief. Her eye scanned the ground below her and revealed a window washing platform two stories below. "Don't waste time. Meet me on the ground."

And with that, Sakura released her hold on the narrow ledge and allowed herself to plummet.

She hit the platform hard and immediately rolled to lie flat on her back. She listened carefully, making sure no one on that particular floor had seen her fall onto the platform just outside their window. Screaming would've been a reasonable reaction to seeing a body flop down from the sky at random, but so far only the sounds of chatter and slot machines could be heard.

She inched up and peered over the window ledge. Sure enough, it revealed a busy floor of the casino where clearly no one had noticed a thing.

Looking further below, Sakura's sharingan informed her of another three stories left, but with an open dumpster available to break her fall. Organic material, the red orb told her simply. No sharp or blunt objects detected – off you go!

She sighed. This was probably going to hurt, but being as well acquainted with pain as she was, the prediction wasn't a deterrent.

As the rows of patrons stared unrelenting at their slot machines, Sakura hopped from the platform and fell gracefully into the casino's back alley.

"Your poison was good, but next time I say we use guns," Kiba panted as they continued their run through the city's back streets. Their car was only a few more blocks away. "Poison takes too long. The bodies were found way too fast."

Sakura ignored his attempt to distract the conversation. "You're not going to say anything, are you?"

"About what?"

"Kiba, I'm serious-!"

They skidded to a stop as flashing red and blue lights suddenly flooded the corridor ahead of them. The police were probably working fast to be on the lookout for anything suspicious coming from the casino's direction. Sakura grabbed Kiba's arm just as a squad car rounded the corner and slumped lazily against him. Their labored breathing expertly tranquilized.

The car signaled them to stop with a sharp blare of its siren and Kiba quickly caught on to Sakura's thinking by wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.

The window rolled revealing two male officers inside.

"Where are you two coming from?" the driver asked.

"Where haven't we been coming from?" Sakura slurred happily. "Like, so many places. I drank the last one, officer. It is so not there anymore!"

The officer raised an eyebrow wearily at the swaying girl and looked to Kiba. The other officer appeared entertained by the pretty drunken girl as he eyed her tight black clothing appreciatively.

"Sorry, sir," Kiba apologized, embarrassment sketching his features "My girlfriend's wasted. It's her birthday."

"It's my birthday!" Sakura chirped. She winked lazily at the officer in the passenger seat who couldn't help but wink back.

The driving officer appeared distracted as he looked away from the couple towards the casino. "Fine," he grunted. "Just get her home and get off the streets."

The police car pulled away and sped in the direction they came from, likely responding to the call of a mass murder in the casino's VIP room.

When they were alone once again, Sakura rounded on her teammate without missing a beat.

"You can't tell anyone about the glitch."

"Sakura," Kiba sighed, as they resumed running to their car. "You can't keep something like that to yourself. If there's a problem with your sharingan, you have to let Tsunade know. It almost killed you."

"There's no problem!" Sakura insisted. "It was my fault. I'm the one who lost control. My sharingan is fine."

"You act like they're going to take it back if they found out!"

"Exactly!"

"Sakura-"

"You're not deaf, Kiba. I know you hear what everyone's saying behind my back. Everyone's waiting for something to go wrong. Everyone thinks I'm not meant for any of this."

They reached their car and climbed in, the slamming of the doors unnecessarily loud.

"Then maybe stop giving a shit about what people are saying because it's sure as hell not a good enough reason to put your life in danger," snapped Kiba as he grappled with his keys in annoyance.

"Fine. I'll work on it. But just do me a favor and don't mention this on the report."

The boy scoffed as he pulled the car into traffic but didn't comment further on the subject. They sat in silence for several blocks until he glanced at Sakura with sudden curiosity.

She pouted. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Smirking, Kiba reached over and pulled a wilted piece of lettuce from her tousled pink hair.

"Did our princess land in a compost heap?"

"You may go on with your scheduled missions as planned, but you are to report to the medical center every morning for testing until it's apparent there are no reoccurring issues with your sharingan."

Sakura sighed outwardly, tightening her fists sourly within the pockets of her black trench coat. Her heel unconsciously tapped the floor in frustration.

"Are we clear, Sakura?" Tsunade asked impatiently.

"We're clear, ma'am."

The older woman placed both hands on her desk and rose silently, eyes narrowing at Sakura's obvious disapproval.

"Don't get smart with me, girl. I don't exactly have more of you to spare, so you'll forgive me if I'm strongly invested with your well-being."

The pink-haired girl bit her lip, the selfishness of her behavior becoming abundantly clear. "I'm sorry, Tsunade," she apologized. "I know I'm being difficult."

The other woman chuckled leniently. "Be difficult, Sakura. Just don't forget to be smart. If the slightest thing goes wrong with that implant I want to hear it from you, not from your colleagues."

She nodded curtly in defeat. "Yes, ma'am," she repeated with added sincerity.

Sakura had always been grateful for the unique bond she shared with Tsunade. Though the elderly woman was the Hidden Leaf's leader and legendary icon, she often took the time to personally mentor and guide the person she often viewed as her younger mirror image.

More often then not, Sakura had been the target of bullying during her first initial years within the operation. The other girls simply did not like her. It was the strange pink hair, the expressive green eyes, the fact that she had been allowed in based on looks alone. These qualities did not sit well with the other female orphans in an environment that lavished the spotlight sparingly on non-sharingan users.

Cruel as they come, a pack of girls had cornered the decidedly timid and shy Sakura during the last leg of a weapons training exercise. They had waited until class was nearly over, knowing that their victim liked to practice her swordplay long after the instructor had left. They had caught her alone. They had grabbed Sakura's long pink hair with a savage, scalp-wrenching hold and teased her for having a misplaced sense of vanity. They called her ugly. They called her a freak. And in a moment of unexpected resilience, the pink haired girl picked up her sword, and severed the length of her thick, vibrant hair. The other girl stumbled back having lost her grip and stared in shock at the three feet of pink hair that fell like liquid past her fingertips.

They were gone before Tsunade had found Sakura of course, having fled the scene that potentially accused them of cutting Sakura's hair, though she never attempted to sway the story as such. The small girl openly admitted to slicing her locks down to barely shoulder-length with a tired, uncaring shrug when Tsunade demanded to know what happened. "They seem to hate it to a point where it spoils their day," ten year old Sakura shrugged, referring to the frayed pink strands on her head, "Mine too. Figured I was doing everyone a favor."

It was then that Tsunade developed a fondness for this highly intelligent, curiously outstanding child with a fire deep down that could not be extinguished. She made it her mission to show this girl that strength came in many forms, and that encompassing and accepting all that makes you who you are would be the first and utmost important step to climbing the ranks around you. It was the first of many motivating talks which would result in Sakura almost never being affected by the mean girl whispers behind her back, and the driving force that let her know she could handle the implant.

And now, seeing as they were the only two woman to ever possess the sharingan, they were a dangerous force to be reckoned with when placed side by side.

Bringing the lecture to a close, Tsunade reached over to the looming pile of folders, papers and envelopes atop her desk. After reading the label briefly, she extended an envelope in Sakura's direction. "Your next mission," she said evenly. "Naruto put in a request for your assistance."

Sakura couldn't help the slight stiffening of her jaw as she hesitantly accepted the envelope. "Naruto has Sasuke."

"And in no way can Sasuke do what you do. Go. You're dismissed."

She nodded again and slid the assignment letter into her coat pocket.

At the end of the long stretch of hallway leading up to Tsunade's office, Sakura knew who would be waiting for her around the corner.

"Sakura-" Kiba began in earnest, but she wouldn't allow him to continue. Grabbing his shirt collar, she slammed him furiously against the closest wall, offhandedly hoping they were safely far enough from her mentor's office.

"You lied to me," she accused darkly. "You told her. How the hell could you do this to me?"

"Easy!" Kiba choked out as he grabbed at her hand and pried the tightening fingers from his shirt. "I never said I wouldn't. And of course I did!"

Sakura stepped back and released her grip. "If they decide to remove the implant, Kiba, I swear to God..." She growled in frustration and turned to walk away. "You just don't get it."

"C'mon, Gorgeous..."

"Shoot yourself."

"Your eye's still there, isn't it?" Kiba argued as he followed Sakura through the usual bustle of the Hidden Leaf. "Tsunade didn't pluck it out with a pair of tongs!"

She knew their argument wasn't over given Kiba's stubbornness to be in the right. Changing course, she led the discussion somewhere less public so the whole operation wouldn't overhear that she experienced a problem with her implant.

"This is no big deal for you, is it?" Sakura accused as she threw open the doors to the facility's courtyard. "Your sharingan's been flawless for years! Nobody expects anything to go wrong with you!"

"See, this is your problem right here!" he snapped as forcefully pushed the doors in hot pursuit.

"What, you ratting on me? Of course that's my problem."

"No," came the exasperated reply as Kiba reached forward and grabbed her arm. "Jeez, woman, would you stop and talk to me like normal?"

Sakura childishly pushed away his hand but regretted being so unnecessarily cold. There was no point even though she was mad out of her skull at the scruffy, brown-haired man before her. Grinding her teeth, she tried her best to regain some level of composure. "Look," she began slowly, "You're my friend Kiba, and I love you. But I'm finding it really really hard to talk to you right now so this is all the 'normal' I can package together. Talk, or prepare to die."

Kiba held his hands up to appease her anger. "I'm just looking out for you, Sakura. You know that. I'm not out to get your eyeball scooped and sold on Ebay just so all the people who doubted that a girl can handle the sharingan can say I told you so – that's all in your goddamn head, you crazy-ass woman."

Though the reality of her misdirected rage was seeping in, she scowled hard and he was quick to retract.

"But I am sorry," Kiba admitted sincerely. "I'm sorry. You asked me to keep a secret and I didn't. I'm sorry. We've been through a lot and I don't ever want you not trusting me. That would suck."

The idea that her anger at his concern for her health had him now worried she trusted him less was absurd, and now she couldn't help but feel stupid for reacting the way she did. She sighed her resignation from the subject and nodded, hoping it was enough to clear his doubt. Kiba Inuzuka, like Naruto, had been a good friend to her since childhood and, like Naruto again, he was damn near impossible to stay mad at.

"I know," Sakura breathed tiredly. "I get it. It's okay."

He seemed to scan her demeanor before looking regrettably at his watch.

"Look, I've gotta run," he told her as he placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. "I've got a new assignment and I'm already late for the briefing."

"Of course," she told him with an encouraging wave to usher him off. She smiled weakly to assure him they were on good terms. "Go! You can't be late anymore or Kakashi will write you up."

"Like he's one to talk," Kiba sneered bitterly, "Okay. Sorry, Sakura. We'll talk later!"

Her flustered mind barely registered Kiba's retreating footsteps as she stared off into the dim evening light of the courtyard. She berated herself for selfishly attacking him when all he did was ultimately, and unselfishly, the right thing. So right in fact, that with or without a medical background, she wouldn't have thought twice about informing Tsunade if Kiba's sharingan had endangered him in some way.

There was no need to make an explosion out of a tiny spark. The implant was new; her brain was not used to the firing of so many signals. There was no reason to believe that the glitch she had experienced earlier was more than a one-time fluke. Get it together, Haruno, you paranoid sissy.

As she chanted insult after insult, her hands nervously lit a cigarette – the vice for desperate times.

Kiba had been right. Maybe she had to stop thinking everyone was out to get her. Maybe the only person rooting for her to fail was her own insecurity. It was time to stop being childish. She was the only female sharingan user active on the field and it would serve her sanity well to start thinking of that fact as an extraordinary advantage rather than the opposite. If her sharingan was weak, maybe it was because she was deep down.

Well, to be fair, maybe her insecurity wasn't the only thing truly rooting for her to fail. Her peripheral spotted another loiterer in the courtyard; a tall, dark, stupidly handsome man, hopefully out of earshot.

Really hopefully out of earshot, Sakura prayed.

Sasuke Uchiha stood at the opposite end of the courtyard smoking a cigarette and looking off with disinterest. If he noticed she was there he didn't show it and she could find comfort in this facade at least.

He was the last person she wanted overhearing that something had gone wrong with her sharingan seeing as how he had been openly disgusted at the idea of her having it. Knowing that it glitched was just icing atop a poorly baked cake and there was no way she was letting that asshole collect further ammunition against her. If he ever found out, and the start of her week looked promising, she could wager he'd break it out on a Tuesday to remind her she clearly didn't belong in his testosterone-powered Sasuke world.

As her free hand absently slid to rest in her coat pocket, she felt the envelope of her next assignment graze her fingertips.

Aw, crap... the pink-haired girl realized. And now she had a mission with Naruto. Good job, fate. And just for the fun of it all, why not give her a mission where Sasuke's primary role was to tag along and shadow everything that was happening. He was either going to pick apart everything she did or barely register the fact she existed.

Considering their surroundings, Sakura resisted the urge to throw a courtyard chair at the prodigy's head before deciding it wasn't worth her time. Plus her side still felt sore from the fall she sustained the evening before. Throwing a chair would only exacerbate it.

She mentally shrugged. Well, whatever. Sasuke's opinion could suck it. She had thought that maybe they could get by with a reserved acquaintanceship once he had settled back home, but after the way he had practically accused her of committing a crime against nature it seemed there was very little to be salvaged in regards to friendship.

He had Naruto as a best friend and he had the entire female population of the Hidden Leaf to worship the ground he walked on. There didn't seem to be a category for her to fall under.

Sakura winced slightly after a deep inhale. There was no point in ignoring it further: there was still the matter of a possibly broken rib to attend to. Scuffing out the remainder of her cigarette with her heel, she placed both hands in her pockets and headed back inside. She gingerly applied pressure to her side and hissed a little from the sharp pain that rocketed like a lightening current.

The heavy glass doors to the courtyard slammed shut behind her as she made her way to the infirmary to get herself patched up. It wasn't uncommon for members to return from missions with broken bones and torn-up skin, but if you logged a less than average time with the doctors it was impressive in the eyes of the Hidden Leaf's council. Their approval, sadly, was still something she strived for ever since the day they wrinkled their noses at her appearance.

When she was younger, and when the council decided Sakura would be better off at the hospital than on the field, she had been trained as a nurse for several years. It had been a major part of her life before her sudden determination to reattempt joining the black ops squad. She had medical expertise under her belt and usually used it to keep her trips to the infirmary scarce. If it meant sewing up her own wounds with a needle and thread, then so be it, that's what her sewing kit was for.

Sakura winced again as she nodded at the young nurse behind the counter who only frowned back and told her to take a seat. Another face to add to her own personal club of haters. But now was certainly not the time to take matters into her own hands, so this bitchy nurse would just have to deal with her.

Slumping against the wall, Sakura pulled the assignment letter from her pocket and scanned the details of what Naruto needed her help with. Whatever it was, it was something Naruto and Sasuke couldn't pull off on their own which peaked her interest.

Zaku Abumi...

Frequents strip club, Icha Icha...

Suspected theft of client's data...

Building security high...

Need distraction tactic to gain key card by means of...

She sighed and allowed the back of her head to hit the wall with a heavy roll of her wary green eyes. The echoing 'thud' that followed seemed to punctuate the sudden annoyance she had for a certain loud-mouthed blonde boy.

"Oh c'mon, seriously, Naruto?" she thought aloud through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna kill you."

Author's note: I've been getting a lot of questions about the setting I've built as people are asking why my Naruto world is using guns and cars and all other things that don't belong. So just to clarify, my fun hungry minds: this story is set in an alternate universe (AU) and it's a kind of "modern day ninja life" - except they refer to themselves as ninjas unofficially (almost jokingly) cause of the nature of their work. I imagined this AU being in a darker version of our own modern day (like a sin city or gotham) and the Hidden Leaf is a black ops covert operation being run secretly with mercenaries for hire. Much like how in the Naruto world, ninjas could be hired out for missions. But there's no chakra. Just guns and sexy vehicles.

Sorry for the lack of updates, friends. And it's poorly written. I know. I'm sorry. My grammar is garbage. I'm a busy girl who's kicking ass and taking names cause my job will eat me alive if I don't. Also, I'm trying to plan my wedding simultaneously and I'm sucking pretty hard at it. Why are weddings so damn expensive? Elopement: It's an idea.

Good thing the latest chapters of Naruto have been rekindling my lost love for Sasuke.