Sakura was still weeping by the time Sasuke found time to get to Itachi's study. She was curled up on the couch next to Izumi, who had fallen asleep with her mouth open as reruns of Iron Chef played loudly on the television. Did the woman still have her hearing? Why was it so loud?
Perhaps to drown out Sakura who was surely being theatrical about the whole thing. Her shoulders shook as Sasuke tapped the middle of her back to rouse her. When she looked up at him, her face was puffy and exhausted. Her eyeliner was dripping down her face.
They stared at each other for a long moment––Sasuke not quite sure how to proceed, Sakura with a stubborn push to her bottom lip. It had been an hour since the incident, and Shikamaru and Naruto were only just now bringing the body of the assailant into the living room. They would likely be there for another three or four hours, just to deal with the aftermath. He pondered his next move; should he offer comfort? Should he call her a car? Should he––
Izumi snorted loudly beside her, and then lifted her head up, blinking confusedly. She looked plainly at Sasuke with distaste, saying, "You're not the husband I requested."
"I am not," Sasuke confirmed to his sister-in-law. Sakura looked between the two weakly, as if begging to be paid attention to. Sasuke liked Izumi––she was spunky, to-the-point, and intelligent. She was almost a perfect match to his older brother. If only Itachi wasn't such a terrible husband.
At least he'd be a good father.
"Well, bring him to me when you see him. I'm buying plane tickets to Kyoto as we speak," she said, as if that was supposed to mean something to Sasuke.
He shrugged and turned to Sakura, leaning over her on the couch that she seemed adamant on sinking into. "What's wrong with you?" He asked.
Her face turned even more red. "What's wrong with me?!" She repeated.
Izumi broke in, "She's mad because you talked to your assistant first, and not her. I tried to tell her that it probably had to do with the fact that you don't want the woman to fucking sue us, but Sakura was adament on being a––"
"Can we please discuss this somewhere else?" Sakura said through her teeth. Typically, Izumi and Sakura got along quite well, but the frank way Izumi sometimes phrased things tended to get under Sakura's skin.
Sasuke led Sakura to Izumi's office, where he had practically set up camp for the day. If she noticed the bloodied medical supplies in the trash, she didn't say anything; she just sat unhappily on the chaise, folding her hands around her belly.
"Why are you crying so much?" He asked, sitting down next to her. He took her hands in his, "I know it was a lot, but I need you to hang on until we get home. We still have some things to sort out before that can happen."
"Sasuke, we were almost killed," she said, her eyes full of wet tears. "Again! I would've been dead if–––if your assistant hadn't saved me––"
"Hinata saved you?" Sasuke broke in, stunned. She had said nothing of the sort when he was patching her wound.
Sakura's eyes flickered towards him in an annoyed sort of way, but she couldn't remain irritated for long. She sighed, looking down at her fingers. "Yes. My dress got caught in a sprinkler and I started freaking the fuck out. She, like––it was wild, honestly––but she ripped my dress with her teeth; I guess because she was already on the ground. Then she pulled me up."
Sasuke's eyes traveled down to her dress. It was a maxi dress with a long train, now jagged and ripped at the bottom. So, Hinata had saved yet another person. Who was she? Superwoman?
Sasuke kept his awe to himself as he rubbed Sakura's fingers. "I'm sorry you had to go through this today," he said empathetically. Internally, he thought of Hinata and what that woman had endured for the sake of a paycheck. Sasuke inwardly cringed––was he being selfish for wanting to keep her? She was a good woman, he should've just fired her when he had the chance.
"We're getting it figured out," he said. "Can you just be strong and hang out with Izumi until we're done? Before you know it we'll be in Rome."
It annoyed him, having to coddle her while the important part was happening outside of Izumi's tiny office, but he had to do what he had to do. What was the saying? Happy wife, happy life? Well, it was ringing true lately, and they weren't even married yet.
"I'm afraid Izumi doesn't want to hang out with me anymore," Sakura's face colored––this time with embarrassment. "And I thought pregnant women were supposed to cry more! But fine. I'll go back to the study and wait for you to be done."
She was starting to sound normal again. Sasuke put a hand under her chin and smiled.
"Good girl."
-:-
Itachi was pissed at him.
Shisui sat on Itachi's bed, shirtless, as Itachi threw clothes at him. Gratefully, Shisui shrugged the polo over his shoulders, relieved now that he had a clean garment to wear.
His crisp white dress shirt was covered in dirt, grass, and blood. His ear had been quickly bandaged, but by now the cloth was red again; he'd have to replace it soon. His head throbbed––a mixture of the pain, the adrenaline, the whiskies, and his anxiety. Itachi was looking at him so distastefully that it made his stomach twist.
"Give me a break, 'Tachi––"
"Don't call me that," Itachi snapped. "Not in here."
"God you're being dramatic," Shisui said before he could stop himself. He stood from Itachi's bed––this was his first time in Itachi and Izumi's bedroom, and it felt strange to be there, amongst all of their shared things: a twin pair of nightstands, matching robes that were a wedding gift, framed photos of them, an unopened box of crib parts. Pup sat at attention besides Shisui, his tongue hanging out. "I think I can––"
"Shut up," Itachi said angrily. He was standing in front of Izumi's vanity, putting his hair back into a neat ponytail. The side of his sepia-tone shirt was covered in dirt from where Shisui had pushed him away from the bullet. It was that very same bullet that had sliced Shisui's ear.
It pounded hotly against the side of his head.
"Don't tell me to shut up," Shisui said. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be standing here, would you?"
Itachi didn't look at him. "You should've gone for Izumi first. You know that."
"Oh?" Shisui taunted, getting in Itachi's face. "And is Zumi-chan running for office? Are the Uchihas planning a future based on her success? Was the bullet coming for her or you? Huh, Itachi? Whose fucking ear almost got blown off? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't Izumi's––"
Itachi slammed his fist onto the vanity so hard that several small perfume bottles fell to the floor. Shisui stood back, surprised by the gesture.
"She is carrying my child, Shisui," Itachi said slowly, anger caressing every word. "You like to pretend like that is not happening, but it is. And I'm sorry. I know it upsets you, but this is how things are. If you aren't willing to protect my wife and my future child, I don't think…"
Shisui felt a shock go through his body. He stood still, watching. Itachi's mouth wavered. He turned away, facing the setting sun.
His bedroom faced west. Rays of orange lights slipped through the floor-to-ceiling blinds. Little light patterns bathed Itachi's body in vibrant reds.
"You don't think what, Itachi?" Shisui said, his voice almost a whisper. The finality of this moment was starting to make sense.
"I don't think we need to continue doing what we are doing. I have a duty to this family. You have––"
Shisui closed his eyes. The setting sun was too bright. He had just saved his lover from sudden death, and it still wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
"Understood, Itachi," he turned to the door and left his dirty, bloody shirt behind. Maybe Izumi would find it and know what had transpired between her husband and their oldest friend.
"Shisui…" Itachi called, finally turning to look at him, the orange light casting a line against the straight of his nose––his eyes shining impossibly dark and vast, and possibly rimmed with water. "Shisui you're important to me, I don't want to lose you, I just can't do this anymore. I can't––"
Shisui closed the door behind him. Privately, he wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of his hands until his face was dry and destitute.
What had he expected? It was never meant to be.
-:-
"So we can't confirm that he was acting alone?" Fugaku questioned, standing over the body of Suigetsu. His shocking white hair was coated in blood and his chest was riddled with bullets. His blood was ruining Izumi's Persian carpet she'd purchased on a recent trip to Morocco.
They were standing in Itachi's living room. Sasuke rubbed his tired eyes as he watched Sai slip his hand into Suigetsu's jean pocket and put a cellphone in a plastic zip-lock bag. "Maybe this will tell us."
"We can't confirm," Sasuke said. "The warning about an attack came from Juugo ––but I'm not sure if he's alone or if that was his only motive. Juugo isn't trustworthy either––I didn't like his tone when we last spoke."
Fugaku said nothing. He sat on the sofa and rubbed his chin, pondering their next move. If Juugo was in on it, that meant he––and the rest of the Orochimaru crew were still at large. They wouldn't rest until they got their revenge. The fact that Sasuke killed Suigetsu complicated the matter even further, even if it was out of protection.
Orochimaru took retaliation seriously. He would want proof that Suigestu had fired first––and usually the proof entailed a body; but Suigestu hadn't managed to kill anyone but himself in the crossfire. Orochimaru would be wanting retribution for his lost man.
"That damn snake," Fugaku swore, at once realizing the bind that they were in. "He's not going to stop until we give him what he wants."
"And what is that?" Itachi asked, standing beside the stairs, his face pinched. "Another life? Another shoot out in the middle of our city? We can't negotiate with a mad man."
"––we don't even know if Orochimaru is directly involved," Shisui said curtly. A strange tension filled the room.
"Well, he is now," Shikamaru said, pointing down at Suigetsu. "He's not going to let this go. Besides, with what happened to Motoi a couple of weeks ago––we should be on high alert for an attack anywhere or at any time."
"He's right," Fugaku said, nodding towards Shikamaru. "However…if we can trace the poison back to Orochimaru, we might be able to save ourselves from an all-out war, should he admit his group's wrongdoings in the face of evidence."
"That's a big if," Shikamaru muttered.
"Indeed," Fuagku sighed. He looked quite old as he sat on the sofa, the lines around his forehead growing the more tired he looked. "This has become quite a mess."
"I'm going to see if there are signs of a second party on the roof," Sai said in a monotone, once he finished checking the rest of Suigetsu's pockets. "Little Prick, you found the body. Come with me."
Naruto's eye twitched at the "nickname," but he followed behind the dark-haired man without too much of a complaint. He wouldn't cause any issues with Fugaku around, anyway.
"Alright," Fugaku said, standing to his full height. He turned to his sons, a sharp look in his eyes. "Here's what we will do. Until things cool down, you both will go to Rome––I want you on flights by the morning."
"––Father, I can't," Itachi said. "I have a debate in three days and Izumi is almost too pregnant to fly."
Fugaku silenced his eldest son with a single look. "Kakashi has already rescheduled the debate, citing appendicitis as the reason. Good luck on your recovery," he said without humor, though Sasuke snorted loud enough for his father to hear him. Fugaku sneered, "Do you think this is funny, Sasuke?"
"The opposite, sir," Sasuke said, though he couldn't help but smirk a little at the lie. "You were saying about the plan?"
Fugaku eyed him, but moved on easily enough. "Right. You and your party will go to Rome while things blow over. Izumi will be able to make the trip––she's not yet 6 months is she? No? Okay. Itachi and Izumi will stay for as long as you can manage––about a week, and Sasuke and his crew will stay until the conference and Chiyo's birthday party which gives us two and half weeks total, maybe three.
In the meantime, Sai will continue the investigation. Shisui, you will take a brief leave from KMP to accompany Sasuke and Itachi on their trip––the more protection the better. I will begin meeting with our allies, should this situation escalate. I will also be meeting with Orochimaru to see where we stand."
Sasuke blinked at this, snapping his head to look at his father as if he had just said something outrageous. "Father––please. If you're going to speak to the Snake, at least have the good sense to take one of us," Sasuke gestured to Itachi. "With you."
"The 'good sense?'" Fugaku echoed, his voice hard. "The good sense? If I am remembering correctly, it was you and your brother's good sense to use Karin as a scapegoat––and now we're in this damned situation. I think I have enough sense for all of us to decide our next moves. You both should be ashamed that the situation has gotten this bad. Are you not embarrassed?" He turned to Itachi, a frown transforming his face into some dark, aggravated thing. "What about you? This happened at your wife's baby shower no less! And now you will have to move to the compound until you can rebuild in secrecy. Have you no shame? So yes, you two will be going to Rome until I can right all that has been ruined by both of your rushed, irresponsible responses to conflict."
The room was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Sasuke felt his ears burn from being scolded in front of half of the Syndicate. Itachi looked even more pissed off than before––steam was practically rising from his head.
"Am I understood?" Fugaku barked, causing half the room to jump, Sasuke included.
"Yes sir," Sasuke said, looking down at Suigetsu, who had blood curling the edges of his mouth. He wanted to punch his teeth into the back of his throat––he wanted to release all of his pent up rage, shame, and exhaustion. Instead, he swallowed it all down.
"Understood," Itachi said, a dark energy hovering like a cloud over his head.
This was going to be a long trip.
-:-
"C'mon Shikamaru, you can't do this without me and you know it," Ino said conversationally as she dipped her spoon into a cup of ice cream. "You barely know her. If I don't go, it'll be lost precious time."
Shikamaru just looked at her with irritation, making his mouth curl. It was five hours after the shooting and Shikamaru had agreed to meet Ino on the pier at South Beach to discuss Hinata's…situation. He chain smoked while Ino ate an ice cream sundae, repeatedly swirling the flavors together with a tiny plastic spoon.
"I just can't believe Sasuke told her," Shikamaru said, ashing one cigarette and picking out another one in one breath. "I dunno if he trusts her or what. She could practically run home with that information and get us all shut down––"
"––she couldn't." Ino cut in stiffly, sticking the spoon deep within the bowl. "Knowing isn't enough. If it was, we wouldn't have gone to such lengths. I told you to let me handle it. I need to go on this trip."
Shikamaru just looked at her and sucked the smoke from the cigarette.
Ino looked back and stabbed her ice cream ruthlessly, "so….get me a ticket."
The waves crashed around them. The air smelled like seaweed, cigarette smoke, and roasting meat––it wasn't the nicest beach in Konoha, but it was one where they wouldn't be seen. Seagulls bobbed around their feet like vultures.
"Tch," Shikamaru was annoyed. He let his head fall back on the bench they were sitting on, eyes to the sky. It was getting dark, almost 9 pm on a summer night. He should be at home, laying in bed with the windows open––not negotiating with an old fling after narrowly avoiding death at a baby shower of all places. His life was hell.
Ino said nothing. Somehow, she always knew the right amount of silence to give him. She knew when to push buttons, she knew when to pause. It was unnerving: ever since they met that night an entire spring ago, she had a curious way of sticking around. Now, she merely folded one long leg in front of the other, and adjusted her jean miniskirt. She fanned herself as she set the ice cream aside, and fixed Shikamaru with a long, imploring look.
Shikamaru hated how beautiful she was. It was really annoying and somewhat distracting. It irritated him more that she pretended to be some socialite model who only cared about social climbing, hiding her intelligence and keen eye until it benefited her. That's how she had gotten him, catching him in the dark web of a club, pretending to care about his law practice, and asking about his sports car.
Perhaps it was his fault for not seeing through his own lust and willful ignorance. Now, a year in a half later they were sitting here, at the pier, conspiring.
"Fine," he finally relented. "I'll get you a ticket. We're leaving tomorrow morning so be ready. I don't know what I'm going to tell Sasuke about you––"
"Tell him we're dating," Ino shrugged and popped the cherry into her mouth. Shikamaru watched her bite it and pull the stem clean out between her red lips. "Tell him I made you bring me."
Shikamaru closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. He knew he would regret this one way or another, but he pushed that aside and relented.
"Fine."
-:-
Her body throbbed as she dragged herself out of bed at 2 in the morning. Shortly after getting home earlier that evening, she received a call from Sasuke, telling her that their trip had moved up. She was now expected to be on a six am direct flight to Fiumicino airport.
Instead of complaining, she ordered herself dinner and went straight to bed. It was unlike her, but she convinced herself that she'd wake up early and pack. Too much had happened for her to jump from one thing to the next, and she needed a good meal and sleep as her buffer.
But now, it was 2 am, and her body hurt from throwing it towards the ground, running, and being sliced open and stitched closed. She checked her wound––purple bruises around the sloppily done stitches, it really wasn't Sasuke's best work and he seemed so confident––and washed and changed the bandages. She wouldn't redo the stitches; he would notice, and besides, they got the job done just fine.
After that was done, she put on a pot of coffee and began to pack––not knowing at all for what occasions besides a conference. She packed an assortment of things: Jeans, shorts, skirts, workout clothes, and Ino-approved dresses and heels. Sasuke advised her to bring her biggest suitcase––and fill it––so she spared no item.
She was only hesitant when she unlocked the Toy Chest and mourned all the weapons she wouldn't get to bring abroad. She cast her fingers across her favorite handgun––a sparkling .45––before turning towards the more tech-centered gear: tracking devices, listening equipment, various bugs and technology suppressants: she had no idea what she would need. She put all of these things in a small, velvet bag, put that inside of a hollowed-out book, and slipped the book into a hidden part of her suitcase. B6 had an office somewhere in Rome––she could get a spare gun there, maybe.
Finally, she sat on her couch and waited, sipping her coffee and trying not to gnaw on her acrylic nails––she'd just gotten them redone a day ago, just in time for this impromptu trip. She entered her latest findings in the Dossier, including a note about her trip abroad in case Neji came looking for her. As she sat, she thought about Sasuke's dark gaze as he told her the truth: we are the Yakuza. We live dangerous lives. I need you to know that before you come with us to Rome.
Just what the hell was bound to happen in Italy?
Her phone lit up––Sasuke. Her ride was outside.
Hinata grabbed her luggage and left her apartment. She cast one look over her shoulder at the big windows, the suede couch, and the fluffy rug, wondering when she would return, and if everything would be different when she did.
AN. And that marks the END of part one. (of four parts)