Trigger warning: blood, scenes of torture, death and sex

"Was this really necessary?"

The halls of the grand mansion were silent. Sakura was well aware of how late into the night it was now, closer to dawn. After the others had made themselves scarce of the fierce tension that threatened to consume them all, she and Itachi had continued their evening of dancing and alcohol. Foolishly, she had assumed that to be the night required for him to assist her in the deal with the heretics; once it was all over, he'd smugly informed her that wasn't the night of his choosing. Simply a bonus.

Her devious former lover was unperturbed by the surly attitude as they drew to a halt outside of her bedroom. Rather, he acted like it was the first time he walked her home all over again, despite it being well over fifty years ago now; back when Itachi discovered that she was a young, naïve, and wholly defenceless human working nightshifts and walking the dark streets alone.

"I wasn't ready for the night to end," Itachi argued with a warmth that threatened to encase her.

But like hell she would let it, especially after falling for such a frustratingly blatant trick. Green eyes narrowed suspiciously instead, and she considered him at length. There was a tremoring siren that was warning Sakura against lowering the guards that had a part in her survival so far, and it pissed her off that he was managing to sway them.

The returning emotions were going to be the death of her, of that she was certain.

Find a way of shutting it off, Sakura made a mental note to herself only to pause at the flash of Ino's glowering features warning her not to push it. Well, without shutting it all off.

Remember everything, love.

She would make Itachi regret those callous words.

Unlike the first time over fifty (closer to sixty) years ago now, her father wasn't awaiting her safe return on the other side of the door. There were no leftovers in the process of being heated up to ensure she didn't go to bed hungry. No fresh linen or pyjamas to relax into after a gruelling shift.

The agonising reminders were powerful enough to ward off Itachi's attempts, and she felt the lax armour around her aching heart strengthening.

Luckily for her plan's sake as her furious grief threatened to overwhelm her, the sudden ringtone she knew was assigned solely to her son cut through the thickening silence. Thinking of him chipped away at the negativity until Sakura finally managed to breathe normally once more, uncaring to the curious tilting of Itachi's head when her demon eyes deactivated.

"Mitsuki-kun," she answered chirpily while spinning on her heel. The door was already closing on her stunned former lover by the time she reached the bed to settle down for their conversation. "Are you going to bed now?"

"Almost," came Mitsuki's mischievous response that prompted her to snort amusedly. He was too much like her at times, but it was impossible not to find the humour in it. "I am attempting to get to know Gaara-san."

Intrigued, Sakura stood and made her way over to the bathroom attached to her temporary bedroom. Since she had already bathed for much too long earlier that day (not to mention the extra shower to wash away her own blood), she wasn't interested in taking another, but the abrupt gushing of the water hitting porcelain promised for a more private conversation. They couldn't risk any eavesdroppers on her end.

Green eyes narrowed as she playfully warned, "Mitsuki-kun, I hope you don't have a secret agenda in befriending a being like Sabaku no Gaara."

Immortality really did suit her, Sakura marvelled while leaning over the counter to admire her reflection. Although being frozen in time stole her of many possibilities and natural life goals, she couldn't deny never ageing was a wondrous benefit. Who in their right mind sincerely wanted wrinkles or sagging skin, or to slow down over the years and be burdened by crippling ailments such as arthritis or dementia?

The chuckle that drifted over the line reminded her far too much of Mitsuki's infancy to ease her suspicions—it only made them worse. Back then, it always carried a cadence that promised he was up to no good. It was unintentionally that he kept up the blaring tell that allowed Sakura to watch over his curious antics with a closer eye to grant him independence but protection also, should anything go awry.

It seemed she had to make another call to her righthand woman once they hung up.

"Gaara is…" Any word that came to mind felt wholly inappropriate to share with her son and Sakura sighed. Turning away from the too large gold framed mirror, she leaned back against the white counter and assessed her painted nails closely. "A tough nut to crack."

"…That's all you're going to offer?"

She laughed at the deadpanned response. "It'd be much too easy for you if I gave you all the answers, kid."

"Mama," he complained, and hidden in the privacy of the bathroom, she smiled widely at the name that never failed to fill her to the brim with maternal affection.

"Why do you want to get to know him?"

"He's important to you," came the doubtful response.

Humming with an exaggerated disbelief, Sakura mentally toyed with potential plots her son could be concocting while her back was turned. Asking outright was a waste of time—she knew she sure as hell wouldn't tell the truth if it threatened to derail a plan. Ino was the best option absolutely, though instinct poked at Sakura to give Gaara some type of forewarning as to what was in store for him. Her lover wasn't exactly known for his patience.

"You know I would never stand in the way of your much too curious mind," Sakura reminded with a touch of seriousness, knowing it would ease Mitsuki into being truthful sooner or later. Pushing too hard simply pissed him off and in turn, pissed her off too and they would only end up clashing if she tried to police him—however, one trick that usually worked in her favour was good old reverse psychology, or a show of trust and encouragement. "More to the point, I trust that you won't be going out of your way to get under his skin."

"I won't." It wasn't so much the words but the conviction he spoke them with that settled the unease of Sakura's gut, and she gently smiled. "Even within our own quarters the coven can sense how anxious he makes the other vampires."

But of course, that didn't sway her inquisitive son—merely made him more determined in unearthing whatever it was about Gaara that fascinated him.

Then again, Mitsuki had been in awe of how resilient Gaara was to the heretic's attacks, hadn't he? Was that what demanded his full attention? Was he hoping to delve deeper into the mystery that was an original's power? Why? In hopes that it could somehow come back to Sasuke and, in turn, the linking spell?

Maternal concern over Mitsuki's well-being almost had Sakura damning her own plans. But she shut her mouth just as the words began to form and inhaled deeply, calmingly.

"It's late," Sakura pointed out instead. Moving to sit on the ledge of the clawfoot bath, she held her hand beneath the faucet and admired the responding cascade of water splashing the sides of the porcelain. "If you're going to be scheming against a thousand year old original, then you should at least be doing it after a full night of sleep."

That mischievous chuckling had her shoulders relaxing and she moved to shut off the water. "Who said anything about it being against him?"

She froze.

What did he just say—

"Goodnight, Mama."

"Mitsuki, don't you dare hang up—"

But the call was promptly terminated, and Sakura gritted her teeth.

Forget Uchiha Madara. That tenacious child was going to be the death of her, without a shadow of a doubt.

Rolling her eyes and cursing her luck, she set to dialling Gaara's number while the bath was still running at its highest flow. Wet fingers moved to clutch the lip of the bath, hold increasing in strength as the prolonged ringing wound her nerves. If that man wasn't careful then her irritation would explode to full-blown rage that couldn't be sated until she finally—

"My little mouse."

Now was so not the time to toy with her. "What's going on with Mitsuki?"

A thoughtful hum that wasn't all that unpleasant allowed Sakura to roll her shoulders without being burdened by the heightened anxiety over her son's well-being; there was no hints of being frustrated or cunning. More so intrigued, if she wasn't mistaken.

"There is no mistaking whose child he is," came Gaara's snorted response. "That boy is persistent."

"Gaara," she sighed.

"What concerns you?"

"I want to keep Mitsuki as far from this mess as possible," Sakura told him in a hush. A horrendous pang in her chest forced her to drop her head low, eyes squeezing shut at the sickening sensation of her chest imploding at an agonisingly slow pace. "If he's gone to you in the hopes of joining—"

"He hasn't." A touch of something akin to consoling entered his tone, like Gaara was able to sense her emotional torment over the phone and wanted to end it immediately. "Have you forgotten that I vowed to keep him safe?" Exhaling sharply, she slid to the floor and brought her knees to her chest. Heightened emotions were a fucking nightmare. "Your son requested that I take him under my wing."

…What? Sakura was grateful for being blindsided as it swiftly tackled the anxiety from the forefront of her mind. "I thought you couldn't practice anymore?"

"That does not mean I cannot teach what I know."

What little she knew of magic came from Mitsuki's enthusiastic monologues of his lessons and abilities—she listened to everything he said, but truth be told, a substantial amount went over her head until she requested that he broke it down for her so that she could be more involved in his passions. Gaara's magic—earth magic—was far beyond comprehension. So ancient that no witch in Suna practiced it any longer as it got lost to time and buried beneath more mainstream, simplified spells.

Perhaps that was why Hashirama's magic was so absolute? Was that why the coven couldn't compete with it?

Was that the real reason why Mitsuki was so interested?

"You never really speak of those days," Sakura pointed out offhandedly, knowing that Gaara's responses to his past could be extreme to say the least. "Are you going to agree?"

Another contemplative hum had her straightening out of the previous pathetic slump she'd sunk into, utterly astonished that he was being swayed by her own son (because that was undoubtedly what his silence signified). Even she had difficulty getting Gaara to discuss his past after he was betrayed so viciously and cut off from his connection with the earth (and, in turn, denied a chance of eternal peace with his beloved mother and uncle).

"Mitsuki informed me of his ability to channel others," Gaara instead noted. "It is safe to assume he can channel Orochimaru."

Sakura grimaced at that. "To an extent."

"That extent being possession. A being such as Orochimaru would never allow another to leech off his power without some form of payment," he easily deduced. Thoughtful, she crossed her legs and leaned back against the bath. "I will ensure that is never a possibility."

She startled. "You can do that?"

His scoff was arrogant and, to be frank, hot as hell. "Consider it a test. If Mitsuki passes, I will teach him all that I know."

She couldn't help but demand, "Why?"

"He is becoming more aware of his abilities and as a result cocky," Gaara told her simply, and since she couldn't really argue against that, Sakura hummed in agreement. "It will only be a matter of time before he foolishly attempts to take on Madara himself."

It was a horrifying but all too real possibility, and she fought through the crushing of her heart as the results of such rash actions flashed through her spinning mind. Mitsuki was powerful, Sakura would never deny that, but Uchiha Madara was on a whole different wavelength that even his own clansmen struggled to compete with.

"There is an ancient relic at the palace that I believe Mitsuki will find useful." It wasn't a hesitant pause, more so one that allowed the notion he brought to life a short time to settle and be considered more rationally. "I intend to take him with me to retrieve it."

After coming across Mitsuki over a decade ago in the forest, it became extremely rare for him to ever leave Konoha—the coven insisted it was incredibly risky for the boy who was alleged to be Orochimaru's reincarnation, and after only a single reminder of what his biological parents did to him, Sakura hadn't hesitated to agree. There was no telling what other witches would do if they happened across him.

To go all the way to Gaara's palace in Suna—

However, Gaara was—

"I can't believe I'm saying this to anyone who isn't Ino," she whispered thickly before swallowing hard and saying in a considerably more even voice, "I entrust my son to you, Gaara."

"I will keep you updated," he assured without her concerns needing to be voiced. "But don't believe that to be a reason to take your time, my little mouse."

Sakura smirked at that, uttering silkily, "Don't worry. I'm moving to the next phase of the plan tomorrow."

His responding chuckle was dark and arousing.

Already aware that she was not alone from the second she awoke in such tacky surroundings, Sakura didn't make a fuss at the sensation of eyes following her every move as she rolled onto her back and stretched, exposing the glimpses of lace. A short sound of satisfaction brought the watcher out of his seat, and she looked on with intrigue at the desire that lingered in his expression.

"Were you watching me sleep, Naruto?"

"Not to be a creep." There was no major concern, though she noted a trace of protectiveness that urged him to unnecessarily double check the door before alerting Sakura, "Sasuke's in a bad mood."

Fantastic, she inwardly groaned. That guy was a major pain in her ass and so far, more trouble than he was worth. Rather than show her frustration towards the ripper, she playfully questioned, "You're here to protect me?"

Naruto snorted and helped himself to the other side of the bed now that she was awake. "It was either me or Itachi."

Sakura supposed she ought to thank the hybrid for stepping up to the dull task; no doubt Itachi was the one who suggested a protector was necessary, and she rolled her eyes knowing he was all too willing to be hers. That guy was perhaps as hopeless as the mutt.

"Rippers are that bad?" she asked instead, deciding to jumpstart on clawing Naruto onto her side. His focus was on her curves as Sakura returned to laying on her side, head propped up by her hand. "So bad that I need protecting from him?"

But shockingly, the words managed to help Naruto retain his attention and he sighed heavily, head falling back onto the headrest with a telling thud. She wondered if he shut his eyes to block out the temptress beside him, and smirked while ruffling her hair back and to the side to teasingly expose her throat and cleavage.

"Other rippers make him sick to his stomach—you're essentially a ripper now."

It wasn't difficult filling in the cracks considering Sasuke had already handed her the golden glue, but Naruto hadn't been conscious (alive) for that conversation, and so she would use that to her advantage (playing dumb was a trick she disliked using herself mainly due to how easily others appeared to buy it, always leading to her taking offence and growing angry).

Refusing to show her annoyance towards the potential kink in her plans, however, she improvised and attempted to shift it all back into her favour by asking off-handedly, "He thinks I'm going to chow down on his lunch?"

A pause in his response was accompanied by the briefest of swallows, and Sakura languidly returned her gaze to his. Her hand slowed in its seemingly idle tracing of the bedding, and she tilted her head demurely at his fixating on her exposed skin. Gods, it was ridiculous how effortless it was to distract the hybrid; he truly was pathetic.

"Naruto?" she questioned, tone only a tad lower—barely enough to make him ponder if it was confusion or seduction that caused the dip.

"…The constant thirst is only part of the struggles."

Yeah, she was aware of that. There was a severe madness within Uchiha Sasuke that her sadistic lover was itching to tear into and analyse; was intensely interested in discovering how to push those buttons that promised such a delightful destruction.

Somehow, Sasuke was connected to the dead or was possibly able to peer through the veil that usually separated them from the living—that much was proven yesterday by Naruto's insistence.

"Don't listen to them," urged Naruto and he finally approached Sasuke, catching the hands that were halfway through swiping at what she saw as nothing but thin air. "They're dead. They can't do anything."

Gaara agreed that was the angle she needed to target the hardest, although Sakura was aware that it was a dangerous area to meddle in. If not for Sasuke's ease of turning on her, then certainly due to the others' being present; Naruto would undoubtedly come to his lover's defence if she unleashed a brutal emotional assault, and going off the stories alone (since she barely knew the guy), then she assumed the family orientated Shisui would also.

Should Naruto attempt to subdue her with his venom, it was only temporary not only thanks to her former love's desperation to keep her alive but also her life being linked with Sasuke's (no longer boasting the fearful fatality it once had). The real pain there would be redeeming herself in Naruto's eyes. That required far too much patience after all the effort she'd already put in.

Shisui wouldn't ever dare to harm his cousin's one true love, meaning he was harmless—to a degree. Although she certainly couldn't go toe-to-toe with the guy, Sakura knew she wasn't wholly defenceless either.

The only unpredictable one was Itachi—was he going to be the biggest concern? Infuriatingly, Sakura couldn't be too sure. All she did know was that he was unreliable when it was a ultimatum between herself and his beloved baby brother.

"The hallucinations, right?" she enquired, frowning. "Do you think they'll filter through at some point?"

"Itachi doesn't think so. They're a part of his curse, and you're only experiencing the physical effects. Not mental."

Oh? How marvellously sadistic of Hashirama. "Seeing ghosts is part of the curse?"

"His ghosts, more specifically," Naruto answered with a grimace. He threw himself down more comfortably on the bed to glare up at the ceiling, his deep blue eyes darkening under the furrowed brow. When he next spoke, it was considerably lower, and Sakura couldn't deny she was drawn in by the wondrous suspense curling in her belly. "Remember when Sasuke told you he couldn't recall the name Haruno?"

She masked the flash of fury beneath the suspense she was feeling, murmuring, "That's how you could believe he was being framed."

"It's all the confirmation I needed," he agreed at length. "Sasuke can never forget the names or faces of those he's killed. They haunt him every day."

Interesting.

"Is that why…?" she trailed off with a feigned thoughtfulness that lured him in. At his demand to know what she was thinking, Sakura looked to him and frowned, asking, "Is that why he's so out of touch with his emotions?"

Oh, she supposed he was pretty in his own right; blond hair shaggy and outgrown, falling into his eyes at the tilting of his head and his frown so adorably puzzled. Perhaps had they become friends in a different lifetime then she would have felt protective over the helpless idiot—as of that moment, however, Sakura was ecstatic for how easy it all was. Getting her own way had never required such minimal effort on her part.

She hoped it remained that way if she lugged him around with her, just like one of her five-figure handbags. He could be a remarkable accessory.

"Out of touch?" Naruto repeated.

Sakura hummed contemplatively. "Don't you see that he's constantly channelling most of his energy into one specific emotion?" The silence was telling, and she offered up a minute smile that was difficult to be sure of its existence, let alone the meaning of. "We all have heightened emotions. All of us. But I can tell Sasuke represses his, and now I'm certain it's to subdue the guilt of killing innocent people."

"So which is it?" he demanded to know. Sitting up with an uncertain scowl, he asked, "Does he repress his guilt, or focus only on one emotion?"

You idiot, she mentally sighed with an unwillingly growing affection. It was like speaking with a child—no, not even a child. She had one of those and Mitsuki's intelligence was unnerving at the best of times. Naruto was endearingly dim.

"What do you think?" she shot back while copying Naruto in sitting up. But even the full revelation of her lingerie that previously teased him (since she didn't care to pack any pyjamas) didn't sway his sudden hyperfocus, and Sakura wondered if that meant his instinctive need to protect his lover was kicking in, or if there may be hope for him yet. "The guy is eternally pissed off at the world."

"Maybe he just doesn't have much to smile about—"

"Are you including yourself in that?"

Naruto's mouth snapped shut.

She smiled placatingly. "You're frustrating as hell, but even I can admit you brighten a horrific day, Naruto."

His chuckle was low and playful, and she rolled her eyes when he questioned, "Does this mean you're finally warming up to me?"

"You don't think I was already warming up to you when you were inside me?"

It was comical how swiftly his jaw almost hit the bed; his blue eyes bulged in sweet disbelief and appreciation. The mixture was a sight to behold but more than that, made it evident that Naruto was torn between sides. Previously, she hadn't been too sure and certainly wouldn't have made the gamble, however, Sakura could read that he was feeling relief from their interaction, that he was feeling accepted.

"Y-Y-You…!"

"You vowed to protect my son," she reminded him in a lowered tone that expressed a need for privacy, but not being overly opposed to others listening in. You need to know this, was what her expression told him, and he fell for it. Every bit of it. "Doubled down on that vow since then. Of course I've warmed up to you."

Such a typical trauma based response, she inwardly snorted. The hybrid was lapping up the attention and acceptance like he couldn't help himself—being disowned by his alpha, his own mother, and the runt of his pack, would do that to a mutt, she supposed. All the better for her to pick at, Sakura told herself. It appeared she wouldn't need much of Gaara's assistance in the matter (which was great news, since that meant more focus on Mitsuki).

"Because of that, I'll take a slither of pity on your ripper," she announced with a touch of reluctance.

"Sakura-chan… Thank you," came Naruto's sincere gratitude, eyes warming. "Nobody's ever tried to really help Sasuke before. Not even his family."

"Don't thank me yet," she sighed like the whole ordeal troubled her.

"What is it?"

"We're going to need to push Sasuke further than he's ever been pushed before," Sakura informed him gravely and noticed it instantly had him becoming guarded. "I don't mean into the madness as Madara's tried," she placated. "I mean into his emotions."

Blue eyes went wide. "You mean you want to—"

But she settled him with a serious, no-nonsense expression that had him silencing himself. Their conversation wasn't nearly as private as it needed to be if they wanted to take Sasuke by surprise—for such a plan to work, they needed that element. Having the others intervene, or letting Sasuke overhear their plans… Already, he was going to be on edge; she wanted to push him off it without anyone coming to save him, without him trying to fight her off.

"…Fine," he mouthed reluctantly; expression pained. "If you're sure this could help Sasuke control himself and finally find some peace, then I'll help."

She bit back her vicious, victorious smirk.

"I gave Naruto-kun strict instructions."

Sakura was unaffected to the distant ire in his tone as she stepped further into the humid, dimly lit bathroom. The bath that currently housed her former love released a constant steam that tempted her to join him and enjoy the moment of relaxation. However, it was business first, she reminded herself with a regretful sigh. What a shame.

Rather than slip into the heat, Sakura walked around the bath until she was beside her reclined former love and switched on the jets that would cover parts of their conversation. Itachi rested further; eyes focused on her until they shut at the gentle dipping of her hand into the bubbles. It returned with a soaked, plain loofah that she trailed over his smooth skin, green eyes taking in the beautiful sight of him so effected by her touch.

"Why would I need Naruto when I'm safe with you?" she murmured in return, keeping her voice soft. "…Right, love?"

"Always," came his promise. Dark eyes looked back to her, the longing in his lidded stare warming her belly. "What do you need?"

Sakura smiled at that—tenderly, fondly. Of course, he knew she was up to something. "Cooperation."

"With?"

Although the peacefulness and intimacy clogging up the air more intensely than the humidity screamed that he was slipping under her spell, she knew not to fall for the false sense of security. Itachi's self-control was otherworldly, and it wouldn't take much for him to flip the tables on her.

Sakura brought the loofah further up his body before it met his sharp jawline, where she allowed it to slip from her grasp to let her to touch him with her bare hand. Like with the accessory, her touch was featherlight and brought goosebumps to the surface of his skin, and she smiled faintly at the physical responses. His heavy eyes were entranced by her own, and she bit her lip temptingly after trailing her thumb over his, parting his lips and revealing straight, white teeth.

"This shouldn't feel so normal," Sakura whispered wearily.

A wet hand sought out the crook of her elbow, and her stomach fluttered when Itachi sat up to close their distance. The sloshing of water (or even the jets that created bubbles) wouldn't be enough to hide their entire conversation from eavesdroppers, but somehow it seemed so overbearingly loud in her mind.

"That is because you are my one true love," Itachi told her confidently, seductively.

Sakura leaned over the bath to further close the distance, fully aware of the lowering of his gaze as Itachi admired their proximity. It was only once he was fixated on her lips that she mouthed to him, "If that's true, then I need you to trust me."

The spell she cast over him cracked, but by then it was far too late.

Or so she thought.

Just as Sakura managed to unclasp the daylight jewellery that had hung around his neck for over a thousand years, her back was carefully dropping to the tiles of the floor, and Itachi's heat blanketed over her. The necklace swung precariously in her grasp, held in mid-air as Itachi extended her arms, and it was with a vague annoyance that his dark gaze swept back to hers, a single eyebrow quirking.

She had the audacity to smirk up at him even as he soaked her outfit, because it was evident that until the exact second that he registered the removal of his daylight necklace, Itachi had genuinely fallen for her tricks. There was no mistaking the erection standing proudly above her, and Sakura ensured her expression was nothing short of appreciative and wanton.

"Are you sure you want to play this game, my love?" came his quietly spoken demand.

It sounded too intimate considering he'd caught her trying to incapacitate him, but Sakura could easily read that he was covering her rookie mistake from others overhearing. He was curious as to what she had planned—no doubt Itachi was listening in earlier that morning to hers and Naruto's conversation.

"Won't you play with me?" Sakura questioned silkily.

The familiar weight of his body settling over hers electrified her skin; her gasp in response to feeling him was all too real, though she couldn't find it in herself to care. Not when that fire was ignited so smoothly on his part by his settling between her thighs, pressing against her.

"What do you hope to gain from this?" His voice lowered considerably—both in volume and tenor, and Sakura shivered tellingly.

"A break from the madness," she mouthed back to him, features puckering in the way she knew he couldn't resist. Every time in the past that he'd witnessed such an expression, Itachi had stopped at nothing trying to soothe her heartache. "A way to repay my debt to Naruto." Smiling wearily, she said, "Take your pick."

"Debt?"

Oh, was that his protectiveness kicking into gear? Hiding her amusement was difficult. "He protects my son and in return, I'll aid in alleviating the ripper's struggles. We both get our happy ever afters."

He sighed at the sight of her before accusing without any volume to his voice, "I will consider myself lucky you didn't devote yourself to that task just now." Her wicked grin had him shaking his head amusedly, but Itachi made no move to separate their bodies. Even with her arms continuing to be extended so the necklace remained in the air, it was comfortable and familiar, Sakura allowed. "Though I have to say, it seems pointless on your part. Unless…"

"Unless?" she repeated tantalisingly.

But he refused to divulge her, and she pouted up at him in displeasure. The sulking response had never worked in her favour—not really—and so as could only be expected of her former love, he easily snagged the necklace from her grasp and fully released Sakura.

"You want me out of the picture for whatever you have planned," he said, not asked.

Well, what could he really expect given the fact that he ruined every bit of her fun as of late? Either that or he tortured her by interfering just as they got to the best part, which in turn left her deeply unsatisfied. Why wouldn't she want him gone for the duration of tormenting his darling baby brother?

Sakura flexed her fingers once she was released before rolling her wrists. Asshole, she wanted to snap at him. Pain wasn't sexy if it wasn't balanced out by pleasure. "You'll get in my way," she accused silently.

The look she was settled with would have made her feel like an idiotic child fifty years ago. "That alone should tell you that your plan is ridiculous or risky."

Just as Itachi moved to return to his self-care time, Sakura vamped into his path and leaned back on the edge of the bath. She appraised him with a lidded gaze, licking her lower lip at the appreciation staring back at her. He sincerely was a specimen of a man—sinewy but not obnoxiously so, and when combining that with a trim figure, it overall boasted he was built for strength and speed.

More than that, he was so goddamn beautiful that it sickened her, because without a doubt that was initially what lured her into his spiderweb.

She wanted to tear that perfect face off.

"Don't be like that, love," she purred. "Indulge me."

That was consistently one of their bigger issues, Sakura knew. At the time she was blinded by how superficially perfect they were, and so foolishly believed them to be equals. Itachi was a master manipulator and it continued to disgust her how easily she fell for his charm, how she allowed him to call the shots, control everything about their lives, essentially becoming his pet.

They were not equals. They never had been.

Gods, she'd been no better than the reclusive Obito's heretics.

Itachi was wordless while stepping around her and back into the bath; his exhale signified the wondrous heat that had called to her, but more than that it reminded her of the baths they once shared together. The ones that would end in pruned skin, soaked floors and after she was changed and still learning to control her newfound strength, cracked porcelain.

She glanced to him from over her shoulder, and forced herself to lean into his tender touch as Itachi brushed the curtain of hair behind her ear.

"He is too unstable, my love," came his mental warning. "Whatever you have planned will result in carnage."

To an extent, it was a shame she had ingested vervain—allowing their conversation to play out in one of their more charged memories could have added an impact to her attempts to sway him. Alas, Itachi could not fully enter her mind any longer, and it was unheard of for an ordinary vampire to enter an original's. Even communicating was draining as hell for her, and only her.

Fucking originals.

Instead, she had to try and target those emotions without any assistance. It wouldn't have been all that difficult, had her opponent not been Uchiha Itachi. "Don't you want your brother to ever find peace?" she questioned telepathically; eyes fixed on his imploringly. "To be able to settle down with his soulmate who yearns for a permanent home?"

Naruto's heart was almost a mirror image of Ino's, so painfully similar that it was impossible not to feel his deepest desires. Getting a read on him even in the short period at her mansion had taken little effort on her part, and Gaara had him sussed in moments.

"Naruto has given up his entire life to run alongside your brother, who quite frankly has done nothing to deserve such love," Sakura continued, ensuring Itachi was able to read her true feelings for Sasuke lest she wished for him to see through the half-truths. "Sasuke is an ass, but let's face it, we can't help who we love—and that mutt is so helpless I feel like bashing my head into a wall."

His eyes gentled. "You really are beginning to like Naruto-kun."

"Despite my best efforts," came her mental huff and eyeroll. But then she raised a knowing eyebrow that had her former love smirking faintly, and she accused, "Which is what you were hoping for all along."

"Oh?"

Their stillness was unnatural, and nobody would buy their silence—she found herself uncaring of the suspicion it would cast. Sakura reluctantly smiled at the tenderness of Itachi's palm to her cheek, unable to ignore the warmth in his touch that called to her. Or was that his blood, she wondered idly? Perhaps she was simply thirsty?

"I'm sure you have noticed that he seems to have a habit of drawing out more positive emotions," she pointed out dryly, much to his amusement. "Maybe that's why Sasuke keeps him around."

"Sakura…" came his weary mental sigh, complemented by the butting of their foreheads when he brought her to him. "Sasuke is never in full control of his ripper urges, especially not during times like these." Just as she made to argue with him and pull away, Itachi held fast. "He despises others accursed with his affliction—I believe Hashirama intended on this to thin out the ripper population."

That was a wise move on the ancient heretic's part, but Sakura didn't pay the theory much mind considering there was no way of having it confirmed or denied.

What mattered was that she was losing in bringing Itachi onto her side, that he was confirming that wretched sensation of their never being equals. He didn't trust her to see a plan through no matter how or even if the odds were stacked against her—hell, he'd never allowed her to think about planning by herself before. He always required some part of it. Control over it.

"He can't kill me," she reminded him.

"Not permanently."

Frustration had her severing the mental link with a low, "Itachi—"

"You—"

"I'm speaking now," she muttered in a cold warning. Her hand shot up to grip his jaw during his surprise, locking it. "I am not the same woman you coddled. I have grown and accomplished more than I ever could by your side." The words irritated him, she could tell, but Sakura refused to lose momentum in that moment as she continued with a brutal, "You want to know why I love Gaara?" The activating of his demon eyes threatened to derail her, to steal her breath away. She refused to falter. "He taught me how to love myself. He watched me find my strength and purpose in this wretched life. He stood by me even when I was at my ugliest and guided me away from total self-destruction. You, on the other hand…! You—" Just as Itachi tried pushing against her, Sakura shoved him back into the porcelain and damned the already damp outfit by climbing atop him with an immobilising knee to the groin. One hand continued to lock his jaw with sharp nails that cut into his skin, other once more gripping his necklace. "You treated me like a project—like a pet," she hissed. "However, those days are long gone. Either accept my wishes and support me or go to sleep."

The words had Itachi's disbelieving gaze snapping downwards, though he made no move to try and communicate with her as she held the daylight necklace out of reach. As he'd previously noted: her earlier attempt wasn't serious. Their whole interaction was a test. One he'd sadly failed.

"Understand now that I will never depend on you again."

A miniscule splash of scarlet captured her attention and Sakura wasted no time in swiping her tongue across her wrist, savouring the taste that granted her a boost in power.

He had no one to blame but himself.

All Itachi had to do was relinquish some control; stand by while she recklessly pushed the ripper over the edge. Yet he refused. Too anal to allow another to be in control of a situation, Itachi looked down on the offer to intervene if it all went too far for his liking (a fair deal, Sakura believed).

So, how did she teach him a lesson?

She tore his heart out, of course.

Tearing out the heart of an original still wouldn't keep them down permanently, though it did require exponentially longer to heal since their abilities never really went to such extremes. Rebuilding the heart was no easy task even for magical beings such as original vampires.

Sakura reached down and adjusted Mitsuki's talisman on her collarbone, with Itachi's daylight necklace hidden beneath the high neckline of her dress.

It was an oddly intimate sensation (wearing his jewellery), despite the fact Sakura continued to be trapped with the daylight ring he gifted her well over fifty years ago now. She knew not to foolishly believe that his necklace would grant her immunity from the burning sunrays, since each piece was personalised for each vampire, but it seemed to be the safest place to keep it while he napped in his bath.

Precautions were in place for the slight chance of his waking before the plan kicked off. Curtains were torn from their poles to assure not an inch of the gaudy rooms were untouched by the sun, leaving her former love trapped in the bathroom until nightfall. It was quite the predicament he found himself in now—one that could have been avoided, had he allowed Sakura the chance to prove herself—

No, not prove herself. She was not fighting for his respect or acceptance. What she meant was the chance to show she was capable of being in control, of proving that she wasn't some helpless pet he'd abandoned.

"Sakura-chan?"

It was his own goddamn fault.

"We're all set," she informed Naruto via the connection he opened. "Fetch the humans."

A/N - Head's up: only on-going stories are going to be posted on fanfiction now and once they're finished, I will be posting exclusively on AO3 (username is RiseoftheBlossom). There's already one-shots on there that you won't find here, so feel free to go check them out!

Sadly, this site just isn't the same anymore and it's borderline impossible to speak to admin about issues we're having. I held out in the hopes things would improve, but it's not looking likely.

Thank you to everyone supporting this story and all my others! I really appreciate the time you guys take writing reviews or sending messages!