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Covenant
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Synopsis: Everyone is dead or hunted. The Allies lost. The war is over.
Treacherous seal marring her neck as a collar, Madara parades her like a victory trophy.
And though he gave her to his patriarch—betrayed her in the worst of ways—
Here, in The End, Sasuke Uchiha is all Sakura has left.
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2:8. Obedience
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THE WORLD kept turning, and Sakura turned with it.
Orochimaru taught her more every visit, from the coordinates where he gathered certain ingredients to the vendors he purchased the rest. How to read his personal shorthand, the servants he trusted most and least, passing reflections on the war he'd made a name in and how different this one turned out.
One day, four hours into useless lab information she couldn't escape, she'd thought to try asking, "Is Suigetsu under any long-term jutsu?" Though she knew Madara was more likely to die than the Sannin was to answer straight.
It had at least made Orochimaru pause. "...Long-term jutsu? What gave you that idea?"
"Mhm. Suigetsu said something. Like this seal you tricked onto me, maybe."
"That seal is the only reason you're still alive."
She'd sighed, recognizing the deflecting tone Orochimaru had already adopted. "And what a life it bought me here."
His amused, "Perhaps you should've used your second question for something more useful like I encouraged," hadn't made any sense or answered any unknown; she'd let the topic go, too wearied of his semantics to play along.
The interrogations continued—with the same two interrogators, despite Madara's original complaints. Sasuke said Madara was having trouble finding replacements for them, which made Sakura briefly wonder just how many captives Madara held. How many were undergoing the same punishments that she was. That Ino was.
And only a moment after she wondered, the ponder floated away like the seed of a dandelion caught by the wind. Like most of her thoughts did, now.
Even as Sakura's shrinking mind drifted apart, they'd yet to crack anything out of her. Surprisingly, each time she managed to endure, the easier it got. Hoarding something for herself that an enemy desperately wanted was a perverted sort of gratification. A masochistic satiation that although she didn't know half of the essential things they sought, they believed she did, and they'd never find it.
Still, some days were worse than others.
Some days, Sakura shook for hours from the ghost pain, long after she'd healed herself. Some days, Sakura left the room wondering what the point had been in their questions and their weak choice of torture. Some days, Sakura was sure Ino was dead—others, she nearly wished it were true. Some days, Ino and Sakura stared at one another across the table, bloody and bruised, closer than they'd ever been and worlds apart in the same breath.
Some days, she wondered if it was worth trying to get Ino out at all.
If maybe it'd be better to find a way to end her friend quickly. To find a way to end them both.
Because even if Ino escaped, where would she go? Every day that passed, Sakura became more certain that no one survived Lightning. No Allies existed outside of cages, anymore. There was no one alive to save them, no one alive to save, no one who'd care for Ino if she got out.
And Ino would need someone to care for her. Because even if Ino escaped, Ino would never leave this place.
Ino wasn't like her. She didn't have the same minuscule advantages.
No seal blunted some of Ino's torture. Ino held no leverage over anyone caring for her. She wasn't a healer with chakra naturally attuned to mending the mind and body. Was never granted access to her chakra, even if she were. Had already been mentally brittled during the war from her usage of thousands-wide mindlinks.
It was in dull blue of her irises when she entered the interrogation room, in the stillness that overtook her when it ended, in the perpetual tremble of her fingers—
Somewhere along the line, they'd broken her.
If Sakura managed to get Ino out of this place, the person she saved wouldn't be the woman who came here. That woman, the one she'd known for almost her entire life, was gone forever. Stabbed on that execution ground—bled dry in an enemy cave somewhere in Water Country.
But it was still Ino, with her beautiful, big eyes and delicate cheeks and uncalloused hands. And even if it was an Ino she didn't know anymore, Ino had to live. This was always the decision she rounded on.
So long as one person she loved survived this, it would be enough—and Sakura would love Ino no matter who she became. Now, Ino's survival would be enough. It must.
Five years couldn't have been for nothing. Ino must live.
Thus, every night, Sakura reminded Sasuke of their agreement and inquired about the timeline, as every night since Madara's visit over two weeks ago, Sasuke slept in their shared room per his patriarch's orders. Beside her, in fact; having pushed his sleeping mat next to hers the following day, under Madara's baleful stare and commanding, Now hurry and do as you've been told, Sasuke.
He did not do as he'd been told.
He'd made it clear the first night that nothing between them would happen, snarling at her: Don't come onto my sleeping mat and Don't take things beyond reality.
She'd snided back, I wouldn't touch your mat if it meant freedom, asshole. It was an honest answer for a host of reasons.
First, any plan beneficial for Madara was, by nature, detrimental to her.
Second, whatever game Orochimaru was playing between them, he'd relegated her to a pawn. A person with no power never profited from blindly following along.
Lastly, Sasuke may not have been the Devil she'd painted in the cold Lightning dungeon, but he still killed Tsunade, left the Allies for slaughter, let Naruto die, and allowed her to be captured by enemies. He'd still turned her over to Madara; still sided with him.
He was still a cruel, vile, selfish man, and she didn't love him anymore. Would never love him again.
And she had no desire to sleep with him: The one standing outside her torture room, allowing the interrogators to carve her into pieces. The man who offered no sympathy or empathy or words of solace as she patched her fragmented friend back as best she could. The Uchiha who did as his patriarch bid as soon as his escorting duties were over, which surely comprised of hunting and killing the people she'd fought with for five years. Assuredly included people she loved and cared about.
Her captor. Her prison guard. An enemy.
It'd be completely twisted to sleep with such a person. To want to sleep with him.
Which is why she had absolutely no desire to do so. Not when he read his scrolls quietly beside her before slipping under the sheets, nor when his smoky hemlock scent, dampened under soap, washed over her in the dark. Not when he'd turn in his sleep to face her, skin soft and expression smooth and every bit the genin boy she remembered existing, once upon a time. Not when he'd softly mumble his irritated replies, so close she could imagine the warmth of his breath, to her incessant demands that he hurry up and get Ino out.
Not once—even when his unguarded dreams lofted into her brain, hazy and splintered, and sometimes she glimpsed Konoha's streets and orange and—pink.
They were just memories, though. Just thoughts that bubbled up in his unconsciousness. It didn't mean something. Sakura refused to think too deeply about those dreams—wasn't sure if she could think too deeply about anything anymore, anyway, even if she wanted to.
But sometimes, she spotted red walls and two corpses on a wooden entryway floor. Dead bodies littered in the streets, red Uchiha fans on the doors; frenzied, childlike steps running down a dirt road. Red eyes and red tears and red hands and red clouds and—
Sakura questioned how he managed to stay asleep those nights.
Her own dreams were quelled, nearly unreachable from the medication, so she liked to fall into his when they weren't bathed in crimson screams. It always surprised her how quickly sleep took him when his mind felt so…loud. Much faster than it ever took her.
She wasn't sleeping much at all here in her new cell.
As Sasuke spent more and more time holed up in the room with her, she spent more and more time focusing on him to tune out how the world turned her about, whether she wanted it to or not. Almost three weeks with him in near-constant company had taught her a lot.
Unwillingly, of course. She didn't care about him. Nothing had changed between them. They were still nothing—as she preferred—as they always had been, as they'd always remain.
It was merely impossible to ignore a second presence in a room meant to house one, furnishings so lacking it could've been confused for storage. The only two options inside this space were him or her mind, and even one of the worst men alive was better than the latter.
And one of the worst men alive preferred to shower at night.
He slept better if he read before trying.
He always took his left arm out of shirts first; always put the left one in first, too. Didn't like to wear shirts at all inside his room. Sealed all of his clothing away so that dressers were unnecessary.
He rested his chin in both hands when he thought deeply, liked one leg out of the covers, woke without needing an alarm, turned the sink on when he used the restroom, checked the door's lock exactly twice after closing it, never looked in the mirror, tended to his favorite weapons daily, ruffled his hair every time he came from outside—
Useless, unimportant things that didn't matter. Things that were interesting in that they were distracting from how she was alone, and betrayed, and everyone was dead, and she was laced with so much calmative none of those facts felt like anything.
They'd reduced her ever-turning world to torture and Sasuke.
And on the eighteenth night of them sleeping beside one another, as Sasuke rolled over to face her, his lips parted in quiet breaths, bangs falling haphazardly across his lashes, and she watched with stuttering, traitorous heartbeats, she was hit with a realization—
Maybe this had been Orochimaru's plan from the start.
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Exactly four days later, it happened. After three weeks of sleeping beside one another, doing nothing more than having the occasional conversation, which typically consisted of Sasuke refraining from overt rudeness while she bit back insults for the sake of Ino's promised escape, Madara returned for a status report.
She was lying down staring at wallflowers as Sasuke showered when the door swung open. The water cut off immediately.
The heaviness of the newcomer's aura was enough to announce his presence, even without her chakra to feel out the signature. Sakura sprung up, flattening into the corner of the wall, tugging the covers over herself. Madara regarded her with a narrowed gaze before sliding it around the room. Taking inventory of the sparsely-filled space.
The rock separating room from bathroom fell back into the floor.
Sasuke stood in the doorway, towel wrapping his hips and otherwise naked, hair dripping. "Madara. I wasn't aware you'd be visiting today."
"As warm a welcome as I'd expect, regardless. How goes your mission?"
"Fine."
"Really?" Madara's attention fell on her. "So you've tasted her, then?"
Sasuke shrugged. "Soon."
Silently moving towards Sakura, Madara stopped by her sleeping mat. "Did I not make it abundantly clear that time was of the essence?"
"Orochimaru said there needed to be a connection."
"Yes. And you're telling me you've yet to make one, correct?"
"I'm working on it."
"Working on it?" Madara kneeled to her level, inspecting her like a scientist. "How exactly are you working on it?"
"Talking. Helping her heal herself. Bringing her meals myself." As Sasuke spoke, Madara's regard drifted over his shoulder to his clansman, making the younger Uchiha bristle and scowl. "She watched me kill her Kage. It'll take time to create a connection stable enough to—"
His words cut off in airless chokes, hands flying to his neck. Onyx snapped into red, tomoe in both eyes spinning as Madara chuckled.
"Your dojutsu is no match for mine, boy. I hadn't realized what a child you are." Madara's appraisal shifted back to her as Sasuke inhaled air once more. "You don't need a connection to taste a toy. The connection forms from the tasting. Surely you're being insubordinate again, pretending not to know such things?"
"That's not what Orochimaru instructed after—"
"That's what I instructed," interrupted Madara.
Sakura stared at a spot on Madara's shoulder, unwilling to look away and reluctant to meet his Rinnegan. The seal on her neck pulsed with warmth and warning. Feeling the weight of his powerful gaze rove across her body under the blankets, she shivered.
"When you joined me five years ago, do you remember what you asked for, Sasuke?" he asked after the hushed pause.
"Revenge on Konoha."
Sakura's mouth went dry.
"And do you feel as if you've gotten that revenge?"
"No." Sasuke's lack of hesitation tightened her grip on the sheets, her knuckles turning white as her face felt. "Not until every shinobi with loyalty left to it is dead."
Madara sighed and stood, releasing her from his scrutiny. "So you say. But at every opportunity, you disobey me. Could it be that you no longer care about revenge, then?" Sasuke remained mum as Madara approached him. "Perhaps you're merely hoping for an end to your life, now?"
"Of course not," Sasuke intoned.
"Then, was I not serious enough with my order?"
Palm aimed towards Sasuke's right foot, Madara shot a Black Receiver straight through it. The weapon cracked into the stone floor so fast Sakura barely saw it happen. Nausea swept over her at how it struck through bone and sinew, pinning Sasuke down. Threatening to pull up repressed memories drowning under the drugged surface.
Only a flexing of his jaw gave Sasuke's pain away.
"I'm fond of you, Sasuke. We're the only two of our great family left, after all. But in the world I intend to shepherd in, family is meaningless. I won't need someone who looks like Izuna when I can simply have Izuna back. It may hinder me to kill you, but I'll lose no sleep over it."
"In this world, family is meaningless," Sasuke ground out, lip twitching in a sneer. "You were only ever a means to an end."
Sasuke hadn't ever been one to parse words; he'd proven that to be true even with his patriarch, the most deadly man alive, in nearly every interaction she'd witnessed. Still, each new time Sasuke bared his cruelty at his leader, Sakura's lungs froze in shock.
Undoubtedly, were it anyone else in the world, Madara would've struck them down for less.
But it was a shared kind of cruelty between them. An unhinged ruthlessness Madara exhibited himself.
"Ha! Meaningless, you say, yet only a true Uchiha could have the confidence to say such a thing to me!"
A brutal honesty that Madara probably respected. What had maybe even kept Sasuke alive through his treachery, Sakura thought.
And then the thought was gone.
Staked in the doorway, Sasuke's bearing smoothed back into blank parchment. "What is it you want?"
"Tsk. Always so abrupt." Madara waved a hand in her direction as he strode toward the exit. "Do it tonight. This is your only warning on the matter, nephew. Are you comprehending my order this time?"
"...Aa."
"Good."
The door swung closed on the end of Madara's word, shutting them in together in a room that suddenly felt smaller than it had ten minutes ago. Ripping the rod from his foot with a curse, Sasuke obliterated it with Amaterasu before porting away in his towel.
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By the time he reappeared hours later into the night, she'd found a spot on the ceiling to stare at and think about not thinking about Madara's visit.
He was straddling her in an instant. One hand shoved her shoulder into the sleeping mat, the other curled over her mouth to catch the scream.
Sakura almost thought sleep had claimed her—almost thought it was a nightmare. Sasuke hadn't touched her anywhere near like this since the war ended. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested in Madara's order. Had almost convinced her that there were lines even he was unwilling to cross.
After everything he'd done, she should've known better.
Surprise morphed into terror as purple shone down at her in the dark. Bucking, she tried to push him off with her hips, shouting into his tightening palm. Her knee jerked up, aiming between his legs; he shifted quickly, trapping her thigh under his knee in the same movement. Immobilizing her with ease.
Her throat ripped on a muffled sob as she floundered hopelessly under his body weight, pleading into his hand: "Stop! Please! Please—don't do this, Sasuke, don't—"
"Be quiet and relax."
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry—please, I'm sorry, I'll try to do better—"
"Stop talking—"
"Please don't do this to me, Sasuke. I—"
"Gods, Sakura, just shut up for five seconds!"
Her breath was coming out too fast, too shallow. Huffing in air through his fingers, she gulped in what little she could, barely staving off the incoming panic attack, the saltiness of his skin prickling her tongue. Though she hadn't intentionally followed his command, the seal still warmed on her neck for the obedience.
Sasuke sighed. "Nothing's going to happen, okay? Calm down. Don't start screaming when I take my hand off—got it?"
Trembling, she stared up at him. His right eye was black as a Receiver, mouth firm as the ground beneath them, brows cinched in irritation.
He was Sasuke Uchiha. The Sasuke Uchiha. He'd wiped platoons, terrified entire armies, fought Kage and lived. His presence was enough to change the tide of a battle. The sway of his shifty allegiance had turned the tide of a whole war.
Sasuke Uchiha had her pinned to a sleeping mat.
"Got it?" he repeated as the crease on his forehead deepened.
And she was just a prisoner without chakra.
Reality seeped in, a frost that coated her veins and left her numb. There was nothing she could do. Even if she fought him, he'd force her if he had to. If he wanted. She'd wind up doing whatever Sasuke wished for her to do.
She'd never had any say. This hadn't ever been a choice.
It was inevitable the moment Madara chose to capture her rather than kill her. Maybe since the meeting when she agreed to be the contact. Maybe since she became a soldier in a war at 16 years old. Maybe it was inevitable from the day her parents had enrolled her in the shinobi academy.
So Sakura nodded. And when Sasuke lifted his hand off her mouth, she didn't scream, even as he shifted his weight to keep her locked down.
It was going to happen. It was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do. The less she struggled, the faster it would end.
What did it matter, anyway? What did it matter if she let him take her?
Nothing would change. No one would care.
In the vast ocean of atrocities the lost war had birthed, this was just another raindrop on its surface. And she wasn't any better than this action—she'd killed people, after all. Even her own people. Her own friends.
This wasn't anything. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
"Just hurry and get it over with," she whispered, closing her eyes.
"I just said—" Sasuke cut himself off, murmuring under his breath, lifting some of his weight from her. "Sakura, listen very carefully. If you don't want something like this to actualize itself, you'll do exactly as I say, and you won't make a scene by fighting or yelling."
Then his weight was gone completely, and he was peeling back her blankets. Sakura held in a whimper.
First, a cup of rice must be ground. Then three mountain flowers, no larger than an inch, should be quickly dried and mashed into a paste. Seeds of the—
His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Eyes bulging open, she clawed at his wrist, soundless words caught in her trachea.
He was going to kill her. This was how Sakura Haruno died: in Madara's base under Sasuke Uchiha.
"Relax. I'll release you soon." His free hand captured both of hers and compressed them to her chest. Leaning closer, his voice dipped in volume—"You need bruises. Stay still or I'll have to knock you out to do this."
Sakura slackened, lungs frantic for air, gazing up at him in confusion and fear. The seal hummed through her, its soothing pulse juxtaposed by the fingertips pressed into the tendons on her neck, nearly choking the arteries off. Lying immobile as a corpse, all Sakura could do was believe him.
She needed bruises, he said. She already felt one forming across her neck—two on her wrists where he'd trapped her hands between them. His grip was just enough pressure to leave marks, not enough to strangle the life from her.
If her continued existence weren't quite literally in the palm of his hand, she'd have more confidence in his vow.
"Ten more seconds," he asserted.
When he released her neck, air swooped back into her body through violent coughs. He kept her pushed to the mat, maintaining control over both her wrists as if he thought she'd fly away if he let go.
Between gasps, she hissed, "You could've just told me what your plan was. You didn't need to scare me." She tried to yank her arms free. "And you don't need to keep me pinned down!"
"You would've argued."
Sakura gaped at him, then glared. "You're a piece of fucking work!"
"Fine. Here's the plan. We make it look like something happened. We act like it did. Can you handle that?"
"Don't patronize me, asshole. And get the hell off, already!"
"Agree not to struggle while I do what needs to be done."
"What needs to be done? See, this is your problem! You don't want to argue, but you're completely inept at explaining anything! Parakeets have better communication skills than you do. If you'd speak like a normal fucking person, things wouldn't—"
"You need real bruises so when Madara comes back in the morning, it looks like I followed his order." He let go of her arms. "It'll be more believable if it appears things were forceful."
"Was that so damn hard?" She glowered at her wrists as she rubbed them, suddenly aware he was still straddling her. "I got it now. Okay."
"Okay? That's it?"
"You talked it over with Orochimaru, right? That's where you went after Madara left, isn't it?"
He was studying her neck. "...Aa."
"Well, okay then. Yeah. If you think this plan will work, then okay. It's not like I can do anything else but agree, Sasuke… In case you've forgotten, I'm a prisoner."
"It might hurt," he warned.
"Whatever."
"It'll be..."
After waiting an awkward amount of silence for the rest of his thought, Sakura prompted, "...What?"
"Nothing. I'll start then." He slipped off her, moving to his knees on the end of her mat. Nudging her blankets onto his mat beside them.
Seconds passed and nothing happened again; her vision drifted from the ceiling to his silhouette. "Having doubts?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.
"You'll need to take off your pants."
Sakura was eternally grateful for the lack of light when her cheeks flushed with heat. "Why?"
She heard the click of his tongue. "Arguing, as I said you would. Can you not make this more difficult than need be?" Long fingers curling into the hem of her slacks, he tugged. The waistband gave, dragging down her hips—catching between her butt and the mat. "The more accurate we make it look, the more believable it will be."
Huffing, Sakura lifted up and let him remove the pants. She focused on her breathing, ignoring how nice the seal felt and how Sasuke's fingers skimmed her ankles and how she was half-naked in a bed with him.
She rarely gave thought anymore to just how fucked up she'd become, but it was impossible to disregard it in this moment. A man under orders to rape her was undressing her to mark her up. His handprints would paint her body in the morning, and something was brewing in her lower belly that felt nothing like the disgust it should've been.
She was utterly deranged. Depraved. Damaged in unmendable ways.
A hot hand was suddenly on her naked thigh. Startled, she jumped, pulling away involuntarily.
His fingers sunk into her skin. "Don't run." Then he lifted her leg up, hooking under her knee to push it down into her stomach. Gripping the back of her thigh in a painful hold.
"Don't—don't look..." she begged, voice shaky. Cognizant of the fact she was only in underwear and fully exposed in this position.
"Aa."
His other hand wrapped around her opposite knee, tightening into it—sights boring into her face as she looked anywhere but at him.
For what felt like a lifetime but was likely less than half an hour, Sasuke bent her into different angles and held her there long enough to leave purpling evidence. He indented his fingers up and down her arms. Flipped her onto her stomach and reached under her shirt, seizing above her hips. Held just below her ass on both sides. Shoved her chest into the bed so forcefully it felt like one of her shoulders might dislocate.
He worked in silence. She quivered under him, praying he'd speed up, hating the way their seal pounded through her empty pathways. Despising herself when her toes curled as his fingers brushed, then bit into her ribs. Hoping he wasn't looking down as he'd agreed to see her slick with something that wasn't proper for the sordidness that was this moment. Something that someone in her position ought not to feel—someone less broken wouldn't.
"Flip back over if you want," said Sasuke. "And you can sit up now. I'm done."
She turned to him, vision falling somewhere over his shoulder. Too worried he'd spy what she was miserably trying to smother if she caught his eye.
"Are you a virgin?"
The abruptness of the question echoed against the empty walls.
"Why does that—" Sakura's mouth snapped shut. All he'd say to it was that she was arguing again with that smug tone. Sighing, she gave in instead. "Yes."
He summoned a kunai the following instant, slicing across his palm.
Before she'd processed the movement, she was reaching out and tugging the kunai away. "What are you doing!?"
"Women...bleed, right?" Though he held his hand cupped, blood dripped onto her sleeping mat.
Sakura let out a nervous snort. This moment was so odd—so unbelievably bizarre she wasn't sure how else she could respond but by laughter.
"Some do, but—for kunoichi, it's...rare. Any strenuous activity can..." Was she really talking about this with Sasuke Uchiha? Had she been right at the start—was she dreaming the whole time? "Tear...what would—cause the bleeding on someone's...first time." She chanced a glance at his face. "There probably wouldn't be blood, is what I'm saying."
The darkness made it difficult to see whether he understood. "If it was forceful enough, it might still, right?"
"Y-yeah. I guess… That could happen at any time, though. Not just...the first."
Sasuke nodded, then dumped the puddle of blood onto the mat between them. He used her discarded pants to smear it around.
"That's what happened then," he said.
She watched him paint her sheets red for a few breaths before lifting her wrist to inspect it. Proof of his grasp was already shadowing her pale skin.
There were a hundred things she should've been thinking about. She was a prisoner of war. She was probably going to die soon. Her captor wanted her raped. A man she'd known since childhood had just bruised a large portion of her body so he wouldn't have to have sex with her—so he wouldn't be killed.
But she wasn't thinking about any of that. Wasn't thinking anything someone stable would've.
How had he known where to touch her to make it look most believable? How had he known women bleed?
She heard herself asking, "Are you a virgin?" faster than she could swallow the words down. The question held too much curiosity, sounded too interested—too invested; too much like she cared when she didn't. When she shouldn't.
He was a cruel, vile, selfish man, and she detested him beyond words. Who he'd spent his nights with since he left Konoha was of absolutely no consequence.
His work on her sleeping mat paused as he peered her way.
Before their gazes met, Sakura's eyes darted to the weapon grinder by the door. "Actually, nevermind." She schooled her tone into what she hoped rang scathing. "I just remembered that I don't care."
"...Obviously."
Her sight narrowed at the way he sounded mocking. "Obviously."
Ignoring her parrot, Sasuke called out bandages from the sealing paper on his wrist and set to wrapping his hand.
Now soaked in his blood, her sheets were disheveled and incriminating, and she peeked down at them with a frown. She may be a virgin, but she'd been a medic for many years. The level of bleeding this scene attempted to portray was probably...excessive, even for a forcible relation.
In the early weeks of the war, after the first time Sakura tended to an Allied kunoichi who'd been violated on a mission by her teammates, Tsunade had called her into Hokage Tent alone.
In great detail, her mentor had outlined the most efficient and effective ways to mend the female anatomy. What needed healing first, what was best to heal over time, signs of irreversible damage. The injury flags that it'd happened if someone hadn't sought treatment immediately—if they'd tried to hide it. Then the Hokage had taught the same for the male anatomy.
Tsunade revealed she'd developed personal rules on the matter—like never showing the person the look, never forcing them to name their attacker, never asking them to undress to inspect the injuries more thoroughly. Things that Sakura should keep in mind, even if she wanted to develop her own rules.
At the time, it'd seemed like a strange, out-of-place training session on something that didn't warrant such a special focus. Is this really all necessary, shishou? she'd asked when they were finished. I only had to deal with this once.
Tsunade had placed a warm hand on her head. You've been fortunate, Sakura. The world of shinobi is seeped in violence of all kinds. This particular kind will spread like a curse the longer war lasts.
That warning had held only truth.
The single case soon turned into dozens, which became hundreds. Tens of hundreds. More, if she were to count enemy combatants that the Allies managed to capture over the five years. More than she wanted to remember—enough that she knew intimately how much blood loss was associated with even the most brutal of trespasses.
"You should, uh, probably cut me in a few places. If you want this to look...credible."
With a raised brow, Sasuke tied the end of the bandage around on his palm. "You sure?"
She nodded. "Yeah. And I'll put some on my—" Her cheeks warmed. "Between my legs."
He reached for the kunai he'd discarded behind him, spinning it on his finger. "Where else?"
"Maybe—my neck, a bit?"
"Your stomach too."
"Okay," she said quietly. "Then probably some on my arms?" Those were one of the main areas where he'd left his handprints, after all.
"Probably." He halted the kunai from its rotation and offered it to her. "Do it where you think it's best."
Sakura took the weapon from him, wiping it against her wrinkled shirt. Cleaning it off as best she could. She'd dealt with Sasuke's blood enough to know nothing was infectious, but the medic in her still cringed at how quickly she accepted swapping fluids.
Sasuke never moved from his crouched position on the end of her bed as she dragged the sharp metal over her skin in specific places. She'd sliced herself thousands of times before; doing so now wasn't difficult, though the sting was more pronounced when she cut through areas he'd just bruised.
She twisted the kunai under herself to leave one last gash on the back of her leg. Before it could drip down onto the sheets, she smeared the blood over her underwear and between her thighs with one hand and passed Sasuke's kunai back with the other.
"Will this be enough to fool him?" asked Sakura as he caught the hilt.
"For now."
"Until when?"
He tapped the kunai onto his sealing paper, vanishing it. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
Unsure of what else to say, she shakily teased, "I didn't take you for a philosopher, Sasuke." Because he'd left her bruised in a wet, crimson bed and watched as she cut herself open, and he wasn't raping her, but he wasn't doing anything to stop any of this. He was complicit. He was keeping himself alive under Madara's rule and dragging her along with him.
Because it'd felt nice to have his skin touching hers while it happened, but then he withdrew and the cold settled back between them. Once their seal had calmed down, the slide of her folds made her queasy, and the ache of her body just felt like pain.
Until she was dead, she'd forever be at his mercy now. Forced to play his game, by his rules, whenever it best suited him.
When he didn't respond, she continued. "...I wish you had killed me." Staring into his Rinnegan, the only shining thing in the unlit room, tears finally budded and bloomed down to her jaw. "I wish you'd kill me now."
Red broke the darkness next to purple. "I can't kill you."
She knew he couldn't—the seal would never allow it. The seal might've not even allowed him to bruise her to this extent if she hadn't agreed.
Hauling her discarded covers back over herself, she curled into her bloody, dirtied bed. With wet eyes, she renewed her endless, silent survey of wallflowers.
Sasuke selected a scroll from above his desk and fell into his mat beside her.
.
.
Madara didn't check on them in the morning.
She'd thought the whole ordeal was for nothing until Sasuke escorted her to the interrogation room, discolored and scabbing, and there he was: Waiting in the interrogator's chair, examining his gunbai.
If his patriarch's presence surprised him as much as it did her, Sasuke's sure step behind her never gave it away. Her own feet halted for half a second, dread coursing through her veins.
Sasuke's hand was brutish on her forearm, towing her into the room with him. His touch on one of the many dark contusions he'd left had her hissing in a sudden pang of pain.
Madara smirked at the display, icy gaze raking over her bare arms and legs. "Is this the work of last night?"
"As you ordered," Sasuke monotoned back, pushing her into the seat across from Madara.
"Easier than you imagined, wasn't it? Did you enjoy yourself, nephew?"
"She struggled."
"I can see." Madara smiled at her again and Sakura gulped back bile. "Any changes in the seal this morning?"
Sasuke shook his head. "I could hear her through the seal while it happened, begging me to stop. Nothing afterward."
"As to be expected. The bond will take some time to form, but it's a good start. Good job, Sasuke. Now go fetch the Yamanaka and her new guard and bring them both here."
Sasuke kept a stone facade. "Again, I'm not a chaperone."
"You're whatever I need you to be. Hurry along, I don't want to be here all day. Your Kiri dog sniffed out a sizeable hideout overnight that I must get back to."
With a stiff turn and a quiet, I'll be quick, to her, Sasuke slapped a porting tag near the doorframe and left the room.
Madara returned to tending to his gunbai. "I'm impressed by your fortitude, kunoichi. Not many could watch their loved one mutilated for so long without giving away any information."
Sakura remained tight-lipped, certain nothing she had to say would help her situation.
"How long does that Will of Fire last? Can it withstand any atrocity? Over the past couple of months, I've considered these things myself. I've thought more than a few times that perhaps you aren't worth the trouble. Maybe I should kill you and reroute the resources I'm expending on your extended stay into more productive plans." Madara exaggeratedly sighed. "Alas, you're the only one who knows where you sent the Nine Tails' body. With whom you sent it. How they could've gotten away without any detection. Wouldn't it be easier to tell me what I wish to know and be done with these circumstances?"
Madara didn't bother looking to gauge her reaction. Standing from his seat, he walked to the far wall to rest his weapon against it.
"Surely everyone has a breaking point, little medic. I'm curious to see where yours lies."
Sasuke reappeared shortly after that, masked, followed by a chained Ino and a second guard that wasn't familiar. The new person's mask was carved with the letter U, broad framed and as tall as Sasuke. Sakura guessed from those last two facts that it was a man.
Ino's eyes were flat, skin pallid, hair messy. They gazed at one another for a moment, Ino's taking on a terrified glint as it fell to Sakura's neck and arms.
"I'm okay," Sakura mouthed with a nod of reassurance. Ino stared into her as if trying to suss out the meaning behind Sakura's expression.
"Welcome, Yamanaka."
At Madara's words, Ino's feet stalled just as hers had.
The man behind her shoved her forward. "Sit down." It was a voice she'd heard before but couldn't place. Ino fell into her chair, head never turning from Madara's direction.
Kajura, said Sasuke suddenly. She blinked, careful not to look his way. Surprised he was still in the room when, by now, he'd typically leave to stand guard outside.
"Let's get started, shall we?" posed Madara. "No point in wasting time. Who helped you out of those Black Receivers?"
"I still don't know," Sakura replied.
"You don't know?"
"No."
Madara glided to the head of the table. "Alright then. Who took the jinchuriki's body away?"
"I don't know."
"I've seen how you respond to the pain of a friend. Today, we're going to try something different. I don't think it's something you'll care to see, so I'll give you a few more chances. Where would Konoha hide the body of a jinchuriki?"
"I've no idea."
"What are the coordinates to some of the hideouts in Fire Country?"
"I don't know any."
Madara waved towards Ino. The guard behind her—Kajura, allegedly—yanked her up by the shoulders and slammed her chest into the table between them. Trying to maintain control of her breathing, Sakura watched it happen as if a ghost in her own body. Ino's chin dug into the unfinished wood.
"How many hideouts did Konoha have by the end of the war?"
"I'm not sure."
Gloved hands pushed Ino's dress up, exposing her legs behind her. Sakura's heart bottomed when Ino closed her eyes.
"Do you understand what will happen if you don't answer, medic? Who took those receivers out of you in Lightning?"
"I really don't know," Sakura maintained, stomach flipping as the masked man's thumbs hooked under Ino's underwear.
"Did Konoha have hideouts accessible to them in Lightning?"
"I—I don't know."
Kajura reached into his robe, fiddling with something around his waist.
"Did they have hideouts in Water?"
"...I don't—"
A penis fell out from behind Akatsuki robes.
The words died in Sakura's throat.
Kajura stepped closer to Ino, letting it lay on her butt, one hand gripping her hip while the other flattened Ino further into the table by her spine. A soft grunt of pain escaped her.
Don't panic, came Sasuke's soft reminder.
"One more chance, Haruno. I'll give you an easy one. Did Konoha have top-Classed hideouts in Fire Country?"
Sakura looked on in horror at what was about to happen—would happen if she refused to answer. Ino's brows were creased, eyes still closed, chest rising and falling in measured, numbered seconds. Preparing herself for it.
No, Sakura thought. I won't do this anymore. I'm done.
She couldn't let it happen to Ino again. She couldn't watch it happen—wouldn't let herself be the reason her best friend had to endure this abuse any longer.
She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't do it.
"Yes," whispered Sakura.
Sasuke's alarm was so loud it drowned out whatever he was mentally shouting at her.
Ino's eyes sprung open, wide and panicked, leveling her with dismay. "Sakura, no—"
Madara chuckled. "Now we're getting somewhere. Did they have top-Classed hideouts in Water?"
Rocking his hips, Kajura used his thumb to press his cock more firmly on Ino's ass.
She couldn't be the reason this happened to Ino. "Yes."
"STOP! Sakura, you can't—"
"And in Lightning?"
"Yes."
"And would Konoha have evacuated the jinchuriki's husk to a hideout in Lightning, or attempted to get it back to Fire?"
STOP ANSWERING!
"Don't say—!"
"Fire," Sakura muttered, tears welling. She'd lasted so long. She'd done so well.
In the end, it hadn't taken very much at all to break her. But this was it. This was asking too much of her, asking too much of Ino—taking too much from the both of them.
"What are the coordinates of the hideouts they'd most likely hide the body?"
Ino was shaking her head, face full of pleading. Sasuke was roaring inside her mind, stoic as ever by the door.
What did it matter?
Madara had won. Naruto was dead. Tsunade was dead. All of her friends were dead. Who was she trying to protect? What was she trying to accomplish?
The only precious person she had left was Ino, and she'd spent weeks letting Ino be brutally tortured over information that didn't matter. There was only one person left to protect. The hideouts didn't matter. Konoha's secrets didn't matter. No one was coming to save them and there was no one out there to save.
This was it.
Sakura wouldn't give Ino to these people any longer. Wouldn't place Ino below the corpses of Allies who no longer existed.
Her expression hardened. "There are at least s—"
"Team Ten!" Ino cried. "You'll endanger Team Ten. Please—don't say anything more!"
Madara paused, glancing between the two women. "What does she mean by Team Ten?"
What is she trying to say? Sakura thought, analyzing Ino's desperate glare.
Shikamaru is alive. Her head whipped to Sasuke, who outwardly raised a brow and inwardly reprimanded, Don't look over here.
"Don't tell him anything, Sakura!" shouted Ino. "No matter what. You have to promise, you have to stay strong, you can't—"
"Shut the hell up," Kajura growled, pushing down on Ino's chest with added force.
Are you telling the truth? Sakura asked, hopelessly trying to extinguish the tiny flicker of hope Shikamaru's name ignited. How do you know?
That's what she seems to be trying to tell you.
Was Shikamaru alive?
Were there still people out there who needed her? People who needed Ino? People worth protecting? Ino sobbed, appeals on her lips, imploring Sakura to shoulder this one more thing. Would Ino be this willing to take it on herself if she didn't believe Shikamaru was truly alive?
If Ino believed it, it was probably true.
…Right?
Did—did Shikamaru really escape that field of death? Had someone survived?
"What does she mean by Team Ten, medic?" Madara repeated.
"This is nothing," Ino breathed. "Please, Sakura. For me."
"I..." Sakura gripped her armrests, self-hatred sinking into her blood. How many things could she shoulder until the weight was too much? How heavy was the straw that could break her back? "I—don't know what she means."
Kajura aligned his tip to Ino's entrance.
Madara tsked. "And you were saying earlier. There are at least—what?"
If you let this break you, they'll keep doing it because it works. Just get through it, Sakura. Go somewhere else.
No. "I—don't remember." I won't leave her this time.
A snicker lofted under the U-mask.
"So be it."
Madara had barely finished his sentence when Kajura rammed into Ino from behind, hard enough to knock the table into Sakura's ribs.
hi! I realized that I didn't warn about my break on ffnet!
so sorry about that!
I've got a terribly busy April/beginning of May, so the next chapters will be posted on:
5/1 and 5/15-and will return to weekly releases until mid-June when I'll be taking off 2 more weeks.
.
thanks for reading, as always.
and thanks to Leech for beta-reading