Izuna is about to piss some people off...

I'm definitely not munching on popcorn in the background.

The first evening passed uneventfully. Sakura bathed, ate, and slept in relative silence. Izumi tried once or twice to reel her into some light conversation, but to no avail. She was treated like a guest, and given no reason to complain about her host. It was a desperately needed blessing, and she took it for granted. Something the Uchiha would simply have to forgive, in time.

Sakura kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no possible way she was spared a second, untimely death out of some benevolent change of heart. Not from the man who summarily executed so many harmless women. Surely there was nothing special about her.

The battle smoldered in her mind and blanketed her soul in its ash. Echoes of clanging steel and shouts of rage followed her wherever she went, whatever she did. Like an endless music box taunting her from some secret room whose door she couldn't find. All she wanted to do was get to it and smash it into dust to make it stop.

Wallowing in her room did nothing to help drown the maddening replay. For two days, she rarely left its confines. Only venturing out to eat something or use the washroom. Izumi had been both surprisingly patient and trusting. Even leaving for extended periods to do who knows what, giving Sakura free reign of the small house.

There had been only one warning. It was given on her first night there.

'Please don't run. Someone else will probably stop you before I can, and I don't know what they will do.'

Naturally, she'd been thinking of running ever since her eyes first opened in the hospital. The warning wouldn't put an end to the thought, but she did take it to heart. There was apprehension and unspoken apologies in those words. Proving that under all the comfort and hospitality, she wasn't a true guest here. She knew better than to disregard them.

On the third day, she heard the sound of a new voice. Deep and masculine, and murmuring its vibrations along the walls from the front door. Izumi's voice chimed along. Polite and kind, as it usually was, but it was at a somewhat higher pitch. A nuance she recognized just by observing general interactions over the years. It was the kind of tone used–especially by women–for an authority figure. Non-threatening and appeasing.

She tried to listen, but found it difficult to make out most of the words. They weren't quite whispering, but speaking at a low enough volume to make it seem like they wanted the conversation to remain private.

After two days of wallowing in her own loneliness and depression, she finally nibbled on some bait.

The partition to her cozy room slid open. The long, dark blue robe tickled around her bare ankles as she crept along the walls. Trying to get close enough to eavesdrop without alerting them to her presence. Little did she know, she had sealed her own fate the moment she chose to exit. At least one of them heard every step she took, and the closer she came, the harder it was to hear the mystery man standing just outside her adopted home. Beckoning her further.

Clever bait indeed.

She was hovering just around the corner of the entryway when the voices paused. One hand fiddled absently with the hem of her robe while she waited. Muted bands of grayish-blue stripes patterned the darker background. In between, rows of red and white blossoms trailed. Pretty, but she felt like a poor imposter wearing it.

"Sakura."

Her own name cutting through the silence sent a chill down her spine, and she then understood the mistake she made.

It was Izuna. His voice had been unrecognizable when he was speaking so low, but the way he said her name instantly brought her back to her knees in a sea of swaying grass as blood-warmed steel touched the side of her neck. She could still smell the iron.

All the hatred for him that she'd been stewing in curdled into fear, and she found herself unable to move. The fantasies of ending him with his own blade, using the same brutal, careless efficiency in which he had killed so many others, were swept away by the singular, panicky instinct to survive. Denying her the resolve she had been painstakingly trying to cultivate.

The only thing keeping her from bolting back to her room was her own unwilling paralysis turning her legs into stone.

Izumi popped around the corner to greet her. The subdued nervousness in her own eyes changed when she looked at Sakura's face. Flaring into concern.

"Sakura, it's okay…" She murmured gently, moving close enough to reach cautiously for the hands that were clenching the fabric over her stomach into a death grip.

She wanted to scream that it wasn't okay, but none of it came out. Only a small noise from the back of her throat protested. Even that clenched shut when she heard the footfalls climbing up the short steps and into the entryway.

Too close, too fast.

The paralysis waned enough for her back to slide sideways along the wall, inching more space between her and the corner. Izumi's hand drifted back to her side, and her head turned in uncertainty to the man Sakura couldn't see.

"Mmm…maybe this isn't a good ti–"

"She has all the time in the world to adjust. Mine is limited." The assertive response cut her off.

"Yes, of course. There's a lot on your plate." Izumi nodded too quickly, taking an unconscious step away from him.

There was more than deference woven through her body language. At least one Uchiha was wary of him as well, it seemed.

"I'm sure she wants some questions answered."

The bait wiggled back to life. Sakura eyed it like a fish already trapped in the net. What else was there left to do? It was the perfect offer to dangle, and she was already caught.

She swallowed with difficulty, clammy fingers unclenching and smoothing down the fabric she wrinkled. The slightest movement took too much effort. Like wading through mud.

"I do…" The words forced themselves out as she stepped slowly around the corner. Not into the cramped entryway with him, but just far enough into the open to see and be seen. Safeguarding herself with the three open doorways around her. As if it would matter.

The sunlight burned around him, beaming through the doorway and casting her in his shadow. Black eyes stared back at her. Much less threatening than a sharingan, but she might as well have been looking into the night itself. There was nothing to read but darkness.

"How are you settling in?"

It was the last question she anticipated. The illusion of consideration. All it did was antagonize her, and the icy fear in her gut began to thaw in an ember of animosity.

"Don't act like you care." Soft as they were, the words tumbled from her mouth spitefully unfiltered. Betraying her nerves and filling her stomach with nervous butterflies in response to her own boldness.

Grappling continuously with the desire to both murder him and run for her life.

The subtle flicker of emotion on his face would have been easily missed if she wasn't studying him with the rapt paranoia of a prey animal. She knew what it was immediately. He almost smiled .

It was the sole, damning sliver of insight she needed from him. No, he didn't care. He was mocking her.

"I should be dead. Why am I here?" Straight to the point. If he was going to be insufferable, she wouldn't entertain him any longer than necessary. This game of his would end before it started.

"Yes…you should be." He mused to himself, eyeing her with disquieting intensity. Dawning within her the horror that he might just find her intriguing in every way she didn't want to be. The urge to bolt returned. Winding itself into a coil inside her. Threatening to spring at the first sign of danger.

"Very few have survived that combination of wind and fire release. It wasn't meant for you, but I expected you to burn with the rest of them. Yet here you are. The lone survivor…a woman, at that." His cool nonchalance was grating, but she maintained her composure. Withholding any reaction.

"I'm talking about you sparing me a second execution." She countered evenly, and watched him tilt his head up slightly, considering her.

The next answer didn't come quickly. His gaze broke to inch down the front of her throat and trace every curve and limb to her bare feet. He took his time as though he were inspecting inventory. The way she used to analyze her shelves of supplies, and take note of what needed restocked.

The careful scrutiny almost fooled her into believing he could see through her robe.

If he was looking for something specific, she didn't have a clue what it was. If he was trying to simply get under her skin, it was working with infuriating success.

"You have an impressive reservoir of chakra." His short conclusion finally came.

All of her wounds had been healed. Though she never sustained injuries that would have confined her to a bed for long, she appeared worlds different from the night she was carried to the columns of waiting women. It had been only a few days, and every visible mark on her body was gone. Even the fingers that were nearly severed looked flawless now. All of this, after successfully blocking an advanced fire technique that leveled everything around her like a bomb.

Not that he could see much of her skin in her current state, but he did remember her grisly appearance in those shredded green robes.

"Your skill in medical ninjutsu–"

"Will never be wasted on you." She finished his sentence, uncaring of what he intended to say. Keeping the same, deceitfully dull tone and unwavering calm gaze. A placid surface that thinly masked the mix of fury and fear beneath.

Izuna's eyes snapped to her own. The silence spoke for him. Disrespect was not something he endured often.

Sakura focused acutely on her own breathing. Measuring each inhale and exhale with tedious control. Next to her, Izumi slowly suffocated in the tension pouring into the uncomfortably small room. Squeezing into her with a force she wasn't in the least prepared to brace against. Her wide eyes stared at the wall between them, suddenly afraid of being perceived in any way and wishing she could melt into it.

"Do you regret surviving, Sakura?" He questioned her curiously, preserving his malice.

She sensed there was no right answer.

"Of course I don't."

"You're doing a very poor job of convincing me." His response was slow, contemplating his own words as they fell one by one.

"Am I supposed to thank you for letting me live?" She parried. A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful. Whether she was evading this game of his, or veering directly into its design, she could no longer tell.

"You are supposed to have enough sense of self-preservation to recognize how precarious your position is."

"And what position is that?" A saccharine question that feigned naivety. It would have irritated a less patient man–like his brother–yet it filled him with a twisted delight.

"Whatever position I allow you." His voice dropped to a near whisper, and he took a slow step towards her. Then another. Each one prickling her delicate nerves in skittering panic. The coil was ready to spring, but she remained planted. Straining every drop of her willpower not to back away from him.

"Every breath you take is a gift, borrowed from me." When he stopped, he was close enough for her to taste his breath, as if in emphasis. It tickled her eyelashes and wisped over her cheeks, making her blink.

He watched her closely, waiting for a scathing quip. Or for her armor to finally crack. This time, she held her tongue. Secretly, he was disappointed…but now he would finally indulge her original question. Knowing full well he would enjoy answering it more than she would enjoy hearing it.

"There are two roles you can fulfill in our clan. One, is putting your skills to use–"

"Which I will not do." She reminded him. Clinging hopelessly to her own stubbornness even as the first hint of distress crossed her face. She had to crane her head to keep eye contact with him, and her back was so tense it was starting to ache.

Izuna paused, appearing thoughtful. It was unnecessary. He was merely relishing in the battering-ram that was about to smash through whatever wall she thought her composure was safe behind.

He caught a glimpse of the physical barrier she had used the other night. Now let's see how her mental barrier fared.

"Two, is passing along your skills to the next generation."

"And I am not teaching anyone my–" The sudden realization cut off her own biting rejection. For a split-second, she assumed he wanted her to train more medics. His looming smile mirrored her own disgustingly sweet facade. Fed by the flash of shock that smacked her in the face. It was all the confirmation she needed. He was talking about having children, not teaching them.

The cracks came in tiny slivers. The slight expansion of her pupils. A pause in her breathing, followed by a quivering exhale. Patches of pink spread over her face and down her neck, both in anger and horror.

To her, it felt like an eternity passed while she toiled with the right response. Every time her mouth opened, the swell of indignation tried to rip her self-control to shreds. Like a rabid animal gnawing through its cage to get to him.

"Absolutely not." It was a whisper. The only thing she could manage.

In the very least, he expected her to break eye contact, but she held it so sternly she seemed to forget how to blink. She was so close to the edge, all he had to do was nudge her.

Not yet.

"I'm not unreasonable…" He continued thoughtfully, catching the ripple of muscle as her jaw flexed.

"You will have time to acclimate. I understand this is a difficult change for you."

Difficult change . He was referring to her witnessing his massacre of the only clan she knew, and quite literally sleeping with her own enemy, as a difficult change .

"No…" Her eyes blinked rapidly. Not because they were stinging now, but because she was beginning to lose her grip, and she wasn't even sure if she cared anymore. Her head shook in denial, and she stifled a low, hysterical laugh.

"If you think I'm going to give birth to more Uchiha so you can throw them into your savage war machine and kill my people, you are fucking insane. You're better off finishing what you started, and just killing me now. I would sooner walk into your blade than acclimate to your clan."

His war machine? The hypocrisy almost earned a laugh of his own, but he kept an even smile on his face. Staring at her with false indifference. This wasn't the time to dive into that subject, as much as he would enjoy razing her ignorance.

"Your people…" He murmured in doubt, "They're not your people though, are they? You were absorbed by them, but you are not one of them."

A retort caught in her throat, and she stared at him in awe. How could he know something like that?

"I know a Senju when I see one. I've been killing them for a long time. You are not Senju. And I assure you…"

His eyes narrowed, the smile melting away as he continued to read her mind with unnerving ease.

"Everything I have done to ' your people' , has been done to mine. If they found you in an Uchiha camp instead, do you think you would have been spared? Have you seen what your men do?"

"The Senju have been nothing but kind to me–" She fired defensively.

"You were just a child, weren't you? They took you in when you were shapeless clay, and they molded you into exactly what they wanted you to be. They were kind to you because they already had you under their control. You weren't a threat, you were an easily manipulated asset." He interrupted with confidence.

"They were my family!" Her voice raised, blood boiling into her cheeks. Next to her, Izumi was as pale as a ghost.

"Then you have a husband? Children?"

Sakura fumed in silence, glaring hot daggers into eyes of black ice.

"So you don't," He concluded, "They didn't make you one of them, Sakura. They used you."

When she woke up that morning, she didn't believe it was possible to hate him any more than she already did. How wrong she had been.

Through all the distrust and loathing, he managed to plant the tiniest seeds of doubt. Burrowing them deep in the recesses of her mind, where they would be left to fester into tendrils that tangled into the core of her own reasoning.

What if there was some truth to his words?

He offered a brief glance to her host, who didn't even seem to acknowledge him anymore. Izumi's gaze was transfixed into space, as if she was having just as much trouble digesting everything that was unfolding.

"You can stay here until you have finished adjusting. Izumi has been more than charitable with you, and I know she will continue to be. I'm sure you will find a way to repay her kindness in time."

The midnight blue coat fluttered around him as he turned. Sakura watched him depart with a warring clash of relief and resistance. This conversation was far from over. There was too much left unsaid, and she wanted to stab him with each poison-laced word until he was just as defiled as she felt.

"Then I will stay here forever, because I will never adjust. Allow me whatever position you want, I still refuse." She hissed after him, and his steps paused at the end of the porch.

He didn't turn back. There was no need. The choppy, shoulder-length hair was all she was left to see, while he smirked softly into the bright afternoon sun. She truly didn't understand how gracious he was being, but that was fine. If she wanted to waste it, he would savor the chance to give her that last little nudge over the edge.

"Alright, Sakura…don't adjust." He conceded gently. It immediately raised the alarm, but she didn't regret anything. She couldn't.

"If you don't want to appreciate the time I'm willing to give you, then you will get none. Izumi…"

Her host perked up rigidly at the sound of her name, as if snapping from a nightmarish trance.

"You have cyclebeads, don't you?"

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process. Thinking she misheard him. When she realized what he was asking, her sickly complexion bloomed into a deep red blush so quickly she felt light-headed.

"I–ah–" She choked on her words, "I don't–I think I might–I'm not–" A quivering sigh passed her lips, and she covered her forehead with one hand and her stomach with the other, beside herself in distress.

Sakura stared at him, speechless.

"Get them," He ended her struggle with the command, yet it only compounded the humiliation and anxiety, "When she is ovulating, let me know. Her compliance is your responsibility."

Sakura was shaking. The prickle of sweat washed over her uninvited as her sympathetic nervous system flushed into overdrive.

"I'll let you choose, Sakura… Pick any unmarried man you want. You have a few weeks to figure it out. If you don't…I will choose for you."

Rage clouded her vision. She didn't even notice him step the rest of the way down the porch and out into the street. By the time she reanimated, he was too far for her to reach.

That wouldn't stop her…but something else would.

Izumi jumped at the sudden movement as Sakura blurred past her. Impulsively, she intercepted her from the side. Catching her just before she reached the front door.

"Sakura, no!"

The restrictive hug devolved into a clumsy but quick fight as the girl thrashed out of her arms with surprising strength. Teeth clenching so hard her jaw throbbed and vicious gaze demanding to spill his blood, even if the consequence was her own death.

Izumi rebounded, slamming the door shut in front of her and tackling her to the floor as she swiped a leg under her, upending her balance.

"Let go of me." Sakura seethed quietly, twisting and shoving the Uchiha to break free.

"You can't hurt him, and you know that! You will only make it worse!" Izumi pleaded, fueling her rage by successfully blocking every attempt she made to get out of her grip. Sakura didn't know what would change if she tried to hurt her, rather than simply slip out of her hold. Her host seemed to anticipate every move she made, but she wasn't about to push her luck. Deep down, she knew she would regret any hits she landed.

A dull blue glimmer bathed the walls around them. Izumi barely had a chance to glance up before a loud bang made her jump. The front door shattered into oblivion. Splinters and chunks of wood fired several feet through the air and rained down into the middle of the street, propelled by a single, furious kick of Sakura's feet

It was enough of a distraction to let her writhe to freedom, but she bolted through the house instead. Leaving Izumi's eyes to wander over the fractured door frame left in her wake as she sprawled on the floor. Sunlight encased her in its glow.

To her relief, Izuna was nowhere in sight.

Her head whipped over her shoulder, straining to listen. Sakura's door opened and slammed shut at the back of the house.

The Uchiha sighed, climbing into a cross-legged positioning in the middle of the entryway, and gazing with despair at the remnants of her door littering the street beyond. At a complete loss for what to do. Everything about this was…utterly horrible.

It took a minute to recollect her own composure, but she slowly crept from her home and tiptoed down to the wooden confetti. Bowing in apology to every pair of confused and appalled eyes that watched her pick up the pieces. They didn't have a clue what happened, and she wasn't going to elaborate on the commotion.

After a few trips, the door was delivered onto the porch in a heap of trash. It would have to be disposed of sometime later.

She made her way hesitantly through her home to the closed door at the back. Hand hovering in uncertainty before tapping lightly on its surface.

"Sakura… Can we talk, please?" Izumi peeped, staring with nervous anticipation at the shoji door. There was no answer.

"I know you have no reason to believe me, but…I promise I want to help. What–…what he's suggesting is…" She swallowed, embarrassed and disgusted they even needed to have this conversation, "We'll find another way, okay? I'll…talk to him when things cool down a little." A thought that absolutely killed her inside, but she would follow through.

Still, she didn't answer. Izumi stood, waiting patiently. The silence was almost unnatural. Eventually, her eyes narrowed in doubt.

"Sakura?"

Another minute ticked by, and then she hastily flung the door to the side.

"Oh no…" She whispered, staring into the empty room filled with the cool breeze of the open window.