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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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2:16. Fire
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"DO YOU think the Allies intend to reform an army?" Madara asked from across the table.
You don't know.
Even without Sasuke telling her to say so, how would she know such a thing? "I don't know."
Regardless, after fielding the same ten questions in the same order over and over, Sasuke didn't really need to tell her how to answer anymore. Although the pain of the subsequent punishment was slightly more bearable when he did.
They were on a new base in Lightning, somewhere far underground in a damp, stone-walled room again. The interrogation rooms in these bases were smaller than the one she'd frequented on Sasuke's base. No less barren or cold, however; still furnished with a single table and a few chairs.
By now, she was used to it all. This was her fourth torture session since she'd healed Madara. Only one of countless sessions over these four or five months.
Sakura was losing track of how long she'd been in enemy custody, of what day or week it was. She did know this was the fifth enemy base they'd visited in this country. Knew tonight would surely be the third time she'd be forced to watch Lightning prisoners slain like a spectacle for her loyalty.
It was worth it for Ino, she had to constantly remind herself; for whoever else might still be alive in hiding. But sometimes, more often than ever—she couldn't remember the point of her silence.
Sometimes the lies she gave Madara were more habit than conviction.
Because who could possibly still be alive? Madara's men were everywhere; they searched for survivors constantly. How could anyone who escaped the last battle endure that sort of relentless chase for this long?
If Ino was out there, what sort of life was she even living? Slinking around like a mouse chased by a clowder of cats, hunted and scarred and lonely and—
"Hmm." Madara scrutinized her, arms crossed, face smooth as paper. Then he bent over, palms slamming flat onto the table, leaning towards her with a scowl. "Today, too? Have you not grown tired of this, medic? Tally her."
The masked shinobi beside her grabbed her left arm and flipped it over on the tabletop, holding it down with a tight grip on her wrist. Aloof, Sakura let it happen without fight, staring at the creamy underside of her exposed forearm. Blue veins webbed under her too-pale skin.
Sasuke's gaze was equally aloof when she lifted her head to check that he was still standing by the door. If it weren't for the warmth on her neck and his gentle orders in her mind, she might've thought he'd completely detached from the moment. He was there as promised, though. Leaning against the wall as he'd taken to now that Madara was present for all her interrogations.
He appeared to wish he was anywhere else, doing anything else. That much, at least, was probably honest.
Don't cry out, he ordered.
Her sights flitted back to the table just as a kunai sunk into the soft skin below the crook of her arm. The shinobi pulled the tip straight across, leaving a deep, crimson-leaking line in her flesh. Sakura fisted her fingers and tensed all the muscles in her body as the poisonous liquid coated on the blade seared into her blood, feeling like fire and needles all at once.
But she didn't cry out—and the seal rewarded her for it.
"What are the coordinates to the hidden Allied bases you know of?" asked Madara.
You don't know any.
After a steadying gulp of air, Sakura repeated, "I don't know any."
Madara sighed, straightening to his full height again. "Don't wait for my order. Tally her as soon as she doesn't answer."
"Yes, Uchiha-sama," replied the masked enemy. As he spoke, the kunai dipped back into her arm, drawing a second line perfectly beneath the first.
She cursed under her breath at the acidity, though it wasn't half as bad as some of the other tortures she'd endured. He'd burned her at the stake. Whipped her for hours on end. If these little cuts were all he planned for today—
"What jutsu's concealing the movement routes?"
"I don't know."
A third line was carved in the row. Whatever concoction lined the metal was spreading quickly up her arm with every wound, engulfing the limb in searing, prickling agony. Despite the drizzle of blood pooling down her skin onto the table, she kept her study glued to the Uchiha patriarch in front of her.
"And I don't suppose you know who was on the jinchuriki's detail team, either?"
"I don't."
"Or Konoha's policy for housing the body of a jinchuriki?"
"No."
The fifth line drawn cut diagonally across the first four, and Sakura bit her tongue not to react as it passed through open wounds.
She finally glanced down. Tallies. So that's what Madara had meant.
A perfect tally of five was carved into her flesh.
You can heal them when it's over.
Ignoring Sasuke's words, Sakura examined her arm like it belonged to a stranger. Blood bubbled as it poured out, irritated by the liquid it'd been introduced to. If she had chakra, she could probably deduce what poison it was. Might even be able to counter it with the right jutsu. She used to do this sort of thing with ease, all the time.
But the poison wasn't the issue. The poison merely increased the pain.
The real problem was—
"Who was next in line to receive the Nine Tails?"
"I was never told," she mumbled, contemplating how the man's kunai sliced through her like a roast pig for the sixth tally.
The marks neared her wrist with every addition. Blood drained from her, the gashes too deep to be harmless. The real problem was how the closer the kunai got to her hand, the riskier their depth became.
It was a comparatively weak, unimaginative form of torture, yet a singularly lethal place to carve without healing.
How long did Madara intend to drag this out? In her current state, her body wouldn't withstand this level of blood loss for long. This amount would be dangerous even in her prime. Since they'd arrived in Lightning, until now, he'd avoided interrogating her with means that caused uncurbed bleeding.
Not that she'd resist if her captor was willing to give her an end.
You're not going to die, Sakura.
"How many are left of the Allied forces?"
"I don't even know how many were killed in the last battle," she answered mechanically, barely registering how Sasuke shifted on his feet in her periphery.
Her attention was on the red sea on the table. On the seventh tally etching into her. On the way her arm was numbing while her chest suddenly submerged into fire and needles. On the weightlessness overtaking her thoughts.
The sight of blood usually had her stomach turning and mind reeling.
As she saw it leak from her now, she felt… Nothing.
"Who pulled the black receivers out of you?"
"I don't know."
Sasuke was saying something in her head. The kunai dug through her flesh. Pain crawled down her abdomen.
Maybe not nothing, Sakura amended. She felt almost nothing. But there underneath—past the apathy and the hormones and the dosage of calmative that would've kept a genin in bed for days, she felt—
Anticipation.
"Who took the fallen jinchuriki's body away?"
"How many times must I tell you I don't know?"
"Insolent brat. Learning things from my nephew, are you?"
On the ninth cut, her brain swam. It tore through tendons in her wrist. She'd lost way too much blood now; Madara wasn't normally so reckless. Her lips turned up as her heart rate fell.
Sakura! Focus! Sasuke's voice rang in her skull, making her wince. Her gaze swiveled to him, wide and muddled. Stop that line of thinking!
What had she been thinking, she wondered? Her mind felt rather blank at the moment. Blinking, she took in his narrowed stare, the stiffness in his shoulders, the flex of his jaw.
I said that you're not going to die, he growled after her lack of a response. His side of the seal ran cold as he watched her with carefully controlled indifference. Stop wishing for it.
Why should I? she thought, genuinely curious. Why shouldn't she wish for death? Sasuke already knew that's what she wanted. He'd already promised to let her go. Why did he always seem so freshly annoyed when it came back up?
"Something wrong, Sasuke?" Madara interjected.
Grimacing, his head whipped away as he left their mental conversation. "Are you trying to kill her?"
"You sound as if you care."
"Unseal me before you do," he spat. "If she dies while we're sealed, I don't know—"
"I've no intention of killing her right now, so settle down. I'll certainly unseal you should that change. However..." Madara tsked. "I'm highly disappointed with these sessions. She healed me well when you told her to, yet I've weathered weeks of defiance since then. Are you ordering her to answer the questions as I ask?"
"Of course I am."
"Are you continuing to strengthen the seal frequently?"
"...Aa."
"And she still refuses to give up any intelligence..." Madara closed his eyes. "Her Will of Fire has yet to be fully extinguished. Healing me is one matter, but leading me to your comrades is another. Is that it, medic?"
Sakura held the man's cold regard when it fell on her. After a moment, it slid back to the younger Uchiha across the room.
"Perhaps next time, she won't be the only one punished for this silence."
Sasuke lowered his chin, red dojutsu snapping to life. "...Are you threatening me again?"
"You dare show me your sharingan, boy?" Madara snapped, forming a visible barrier of dark blue chakra around him. After a moment, Sasuke's eye faded into a thin, onyx glare. Madara's chakra dispersed a beat later. "Your temper is childish and uncouth. I was advising you. After all, I'd hate to hurt family. I'm asking the same questions, so you know what specific information I seek. Try searching her mind a bit. Surely the bond's strong enough by now?"
"Aa, fine," Sasuke ground out. "I'll see what I can get. But today you were careless. Look at her. It's barely been ten minutes and you've already let her lose too much blood."
Narrowing his sights, Madara smirked. "We can all see she's quite striking, but at least try to hide your affection for the toy I gave to you, Sasuke."
With a scoff, he leaned back into the wall again. "Affection? You seem to remember the seal only when convenient for you. You knew binding me to her with this sort of jutsu would—"
"Your thoughts on the medic matter little to me as long as she's complying with my orders. If she's cooperating, however you feel about her or treat her is fine. But if she remains this uncooperative, I may begin to find this...attachment something of a hindrance. Something of a liability, even."
Instead of his normal surly anger she was used to seeing him fall into with Madara, Sasuke merely puffed out an annoyed, "Ridiculous."
"Indeed. When did Orochimaru start working with the Yamanaka?"
It took Sakura a breath to realize Madara had pivoted his full attention back to her.
That was the question he always finished with: When did Orochimaru start working with the Yamanaka? Arriving at it meant only one of two things: the interrogation would end here, or he'd recommence at the first question and she'd be tortured for, at minimum, ten more.
But unless they planned to heal her, she wasn't going to stay conscious for even five more.
"Never knew—they were," she struggled to say.
The tenth tally cut diagonally across the final four cuts. As the masked man who carved her stepped away, Sakura felt her head lull sideways onto her shoulder.
"You can wrap those wounds and have a medic stop the bleeding, but leave them to fester unhealed," she heard Madara ordering near the doorway. Someone filled the spot beside her, blocking her view of the patriarch. Smoked hemlock wafted over her. "And leave her suppressors on for the next few days. I want those to leave a scar she won't forget."
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That night, he joined her on the sleeping mat gently.
On the third Lightning base, Sasuke started requesting a room for them inside. She hadn't asked why and he hadn't given any answers to the question swirling in her thoughts, but she was relieved nonetheless. The enclosed spaces of these caves felt so much safer than the unending vastness of the jungles outside.
It was easier to breathe boxed silently in like this. Easier not to think about how close she was to freedom and how unattainably pointless it was all the same.
Being trapped in a walled cell made it easier to think about nothing.
She was curled up, facing the stone. Protecting her throbbing arm that was bleeding through the shoddy bandage job Sasuke had given her. If she mentioned it, she knew he'd immediately try to heal it better. He'd give her fresh bandages, and ask her the right way to wrap it, and skillfully follow her directions.
She didn't say anything.
And though he was only inches away on the same sleeping mat, he didn't touch her. On days Madara tortured her, unless she initiated it, he never did.
"I'll take the suppressors off if you want," he offered quietly to her back.
Tonelessly, she refused. "Leave them. It doesn't matter."
"Can the byakugou heal old wounds?"
It was over three-quarters full now. He hadn't brought her any new soldier pills since Madara's torture resumed. Probably because he rarely left to train these days.
Not that it mattered. Her seal, his training—it was all futile.
"No."
The covers they shared shifted as he reached towards her ankles. "Heal it now. I'll think of something to tell Madara."
She moved her feet further from him. "No." It'll just get worse if I do.
"...Then you'll have those marks forever."
"Not forever." With a sigh, Sakura flipped around to face him. Sasuke was frowning at her in the dark. "Just for a bit longer." It wasn't like she didn't want him to touch her, so she lifted her injured arm and cupped his cheek. "You promised."
His hold was soft when his hand molded around hers, pulled it over his mouth, and planted a kiss in the center of her palm. Holding her gaze as he did it.
She should've felt butterflies. Breathless. Pinned helplessly under his mismatched stare while heat pooled below her navel. She should've been happy that Sasuke's novel affection unfurled for her now with a simple touch. She should've thought, for the umpteenth time, that this something he gave to her looked an awful lot like love. Felt like it, too.
Sakura felt none of that. Instead, what she felt coiling within her was a sick dread.
Sasuke would almost certainly get himself killed for this.
Dread was somewhat better than hope—her movement through Lightning had made fast work of that shackle. Hope weakened her intentions. In contrast, the dread that she'd be the sole reason for Sasuke's death made her anxious to leave this world, and him, as soon as possible.
As the days passed, she was growing more and more detached—yet, the more she drifted away, the more expressive Sasuke became. As if they were slowly switching personalities: He surged forward as she fell back. She was the moon, continually waning. He was the tide beneath, pulled in and pushed out as she allowed.
If he'd kept the change in his personality hidden within these private moments as he had initially, there'd be no cause for concern. But his opponent was Madara, and Sasuke's public mask was slipping too much, too often.
Even today he'd spoken out against her torture. She hadn't missed the anger that rippled over the Uchiha patriarch's expression when he did it.
Orochimaru had planted a death sentence on the both of them.
And Sakura was ready to die—but she wasn't ready to bear Sasuke finding the same fate. Merely thinking of the possibility tightened her chest and shook her bones. Even though he'd been Madara's general—even though he slayed her loved ones—even if he intended to take on Madara's mantle—to continue this war as vengeance for the wrongs against his brother and family—
After all this time with him, she at least believed that Sasuke should live.
…And maybe even that was the seal.
"You're blocking your thoughts," he noted, tucking her injured arm between them and wrapping his around her waist, lightly pulling them closer.
"You always block yours."
"...Do you want to hear what I'm thinking right now?"
He was teasing her—or maybe he was serious. It was hard to tell these days.
His frigid walls lowered for her in these moments, and she had no idea how to respond. Academy Sakura would've overheated and fainted. Teenage Sakura would've taken full advantage and made him hers. Even War Sakura would've fallen apart under the attention, finally having cracked through that rotten facade he wore everywhere else.
Trapped Sakura didn't how to handle his new warmth. She thought it was probably more dangerous for him if she did, anyway.
Whatever this was, whatever it wasn't—it couldn't change anything.
It was best to not think too deeply about it at all.
"No," she muttered, closing her eyes and tilting her forehead into him. "I just want to sleep."
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A highly skilled medic was on the next Lightning base. It took them just under one minute to heal a broken finger.
This time, Sasuke was next to her, holding her right arm down. His punishment, Madara had said. The statement affirmed the dread she was sick with, although she did her best not to give the enemy any reaction.
At least that was all he was ordered to do. At least it wasn't Sasuke administering the punishment. There was a fifth shinobi in the room for that, gripping a large, stone gavel.
The way Madara smirked as he observed her four-fingered hand would've brought hot shame to her face two or three months ago. His smirk felt like nothing now. Whether she had four fingers, or 14, or none—she was destined to die in this hellhole regardless.
It was just a finger. She'd lost so much more than that.
"What was Konoha's policy for housing the body of a jinchuriki?"
And it didn't matter whether she answered or not, either. So Sakura kept her lips sealed and gaze towards the corner of the room. Sasuke's grasp on her arm flinched before the gavel landed on her hand, shattering her fingers and joints.
A rasping growl fell from her throat; she involuntarily tugged against Sasuke's hold. She'd withstood her bones being broken as torture before—but never the same ones so repeatedly. They were breaking the same fingers, the same way, over and over.
The healer moved from the back wall to Sakura's side, green palms hovering over the quickly swelling mass on the end of her wrist. Her hand molded itself together painfully under the medic's care.
Cells could be healed by jutsu without consequence a finite number of times. No one knew the exact number, but even the byakugou was limited by this law of nature. Bones weren't meant to be regenerated again, and again, and again—
When all the bones were repaired, Madara asked, "Who was next in line to receive the Nine Tails?"
How many more times would Madara repeat these questions? He'd asked the same ten since they'd arrived in Lightning. The same ten on repeat three times now in this room. Ten scored into her body, marks she was forced to look at every day.
When would this end?
Soon, Sasuke promised.
The gavel slammed down on her knuckles.
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Hours after her interrogation, 13 Allied shinobi were murdered as Madara's base-wide speech came to an end. Three were kunoichi she knew. All three undoubtedly recognized her the moment their hoods were pulled off. She'd given up trying not to care—tears leaked from her eyes as she gazed down at them from the podium.
Samui, Karui, and Mabui died simultaneously when the ground under them cracked open and they fell into the depths of the earth.
Hundreds of enemies were still cheering as Sasuke guided her off the stage.
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The shock of electricity Sasuke shot into her chest hurt nearly as much as the drowning. She found consciousness with a violent cough, vomiting water over the table and her lap. Suigetsu stood beside Madara, feigning a smirk. Next to her, Sasuke was stiff, his muscles tightly controlled.
She'd witnessed Ino undergo this exact torture months ago.
It hurt. It hurt, and it was neverending, and Sasuke just kept fucking reviving her.
Chin dropping to her chest as she huffed, Sakura slacked against the ropes tying her to the chair.
"What jutsu's concealing the movement routes?" Madara drawled.
Lifting her head, she wheezed out a quiet, "Fuck you."
Sakura, please—
Suigetsu lifted his hands in a Dog seal as a water bubble encased her head, flooding out whatever Sasuke was trying to plead.
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Sasuke returned to the room late that evening after Suigetsu escorted her back in his stead. The Kiri nukenin whispered his apologies as soon as they were far enough from the interrogation room. Sakura accepted them with a nod.
What else was Suigetsu supposed to do? Everyone was beholden to Madara. Suigetsu didn't have the power to defy his leader's order. She couldn't hold his actions against him.
But Sasuke probably could defy Madara, if he wanted—and when he finally stepped into the room, Sakura couldn't find it in herself to look at him, let alone greet him.
Why couldn't he just let her go? Just let her die? Why was he keeping her in this wretched existence?
Like always, he'd dropped into their shared sleeping mat soundlessly. But unlike always, she felt an odd clamminess rolling off him; heard a quivering rasp in his lungs. She swiftly sat up, forgetting that she was vexed in an instant, pulling the sheets off the both of them to examine him.
He was covered in a cold sweat. His skin was sickly pale. Dark circles lined his low lids as he stared up at her—irises hazy and dull.
Her hand darted out to feel his forehead for fever. "What happened? Take my suppressors off so I can scan you!"
"I'm fine." His voice cracked. "Lay down. Let's sleep."
"You're not fine! You're shaking—"
"Lay down," he repeated.
His tone held finality, and Sakura didn't feel up to arguing with someone clearly in pain, so she obeyed and laid back down. Facing him this time, and closer than she'd originally been. As soon as her shoulder hit the sleeping mat, Sasuke dipped his head into her chest, sighing mutely.
His skin and clothes were wet with sweat; she wrapped her arms around him anyway. While he hadn't said a thing, she knew it was what he was wordlessly asking for.
"...Was it because I'm not answering his questions?" she whispered.
"It was just a bit of genjutsu. I can handle it." And true enough, his breathing was already evening out. But there was still a twitch in his muscles and a hitch on his inhales.
For how long?
As long as needed, Sasuke replied immediately. Worry about yourself, not me.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she ventured, mindful of how tightly his hand fisted in the back of her shirt.
She was sure he didn't after minutes drug by without an answer. His silence didn't bother her—it was his business, and she hadn't expected him to share it in the first place. To say she was shocked when he did answer another minute later was an understatement.
"It was something I've relived a thousand times already. Truly, I'll be fine, Sakura." Scenes flickered into her thoughts on the end of his sentence. Familiar ones—things she'd seen on nights he fell asleep before her or when the screams of his nightmares woke her up. Red walls. Two corpses on a wooden entryway floor. Dead bodies littered in the streets, red Uchiha fans on the doors. As abruptly as he'd shared them, the scenes blinked away. "...Now let it go and go to sleep."
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Genjutsu didn't work on her, even without access to her chakra.
That didn't mean she had the same defense against hallucinogens crafted to create similar effects.
Madara made Sasuke microdose her with a syringe after each question. As the interrogation wore on, it grew increasingly difficult to focus on reality.
The floodgates of her repressed memories broke open slowly. At first, it was just feelings—the terror she'd felt moving into position for battle. The heartache of losing a patient. The unbearable sorrow of searching for someone who she'd never see again.
Then wraiths were crowding the room. Bloody, broken faces of friends long dead. Injured strangers she'd had to kill before they were captured. The bite of thousands of jutsus on the wind.
Tinged with the unnatural result of being tonic-induced, the images were so much worse than the panic attacks that used to grip her. Her breaths came in shallow huffs as she fought the heightening horror.
Then Sasuke pushed one dose too many into her, and the room fell away completely. Madara's next question folded into the screams of a battlefield.
A war engulfed her. No matter where she ran, death followed. Her feet sunk into dead bodies and rotting flesh. Shinobi in Allied uniforms fell like dominoes in every direction—blood sprayed in the air, soaking into her hair and clothes and eyes. Zombie hands were gripping her ankles, pulling her down into the piles of corpses. The battlefield was all around her and inside her and—
When Sakura finally escaped the hallucination, she was in a small, unfamiliar bedroom, sobbing. Sitting in someone's lap. Arms, warm and solid, surrounded her like a blanket. A hand was smoothing her hair down on the crown of her head. Her forehead was tucked under a stubbled chin. She was trembling so bad her teeth were knocking.
You're okay. It's over now. Just relax, Sasuke repeated in her thoughts.
It wasn't over. It was never going to be over. This would never end—it'd been months—how much longer did she have to do this? She was done.
She was done. She'd been done. She couldn't do this anymore—
A hard hit on the back of her neck knocked her back out.
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Traveling into Fire Country took over a week. Sasuke took to carrying her instead of Suigetu after the first day, though her blindfold remained firmly in place whenever the group wasn't in camp. The daytime heat slowly ticked up as they ventured out of the Lightning jungle, through the Land of Frost and Land of Hot Water, down into Fire.
When they crossed the border into her native country, tears soaked through her blindfold, drenching her cheeks. Even without sight, she'd known within half an hour that she was finally home; Sasuke gave a soft affirmation in her mind as soon as the realization hit her. He didn't say a word about her tangible grief.
The smells—the hot, half-humid, mid-spring air—the songs of regional birds she'd heard her whole life. Everything was so familiar.
Her dreams had once been filled with the beauty of this place. Her ambitions used to circle around Konoha, and Fire, and maintaining this country's stability. Everyone she loved once lived here. Everyone who'd loved her came from this place.
When was the last time she closed her eyes and found a peaceful image of her hometown? When had she last remembered home without her chest caving into itself?
Everything about Fire Country was a painfully intimate memory, tainted darker by the fact she'd never walk this place freely again.
She let herself cry for an hour. Then she'd tugged a vial of calmative out of the pouch strapped to Sasuke's chest and swallowed those emotions with the tonic.
Her guard moved purposefully slow on Madara's order. The Uchiha patriarch seemed annoyed that the remaining Allies hadn't attempted to free her since the precession started. He probably thought, if anywhere, it would happen in Fire. Thus, they progressed at genin speed, not bothering to muffle their movement. Broadcasting themselves loudly to any would-be ambushers.
No one came. Maybe Madara was wrong. Maybe there was no one left.
Her interrogations were so frequent in Lightning that she and Sasuke hadn't gotten intimate in a while. It was a switch from the relationship they'd developed while traveling through Water, where he'd been eager to touch her most nights and she'd been equally eager to receive. So on the third evening after leaving the jungle, when he entered their tent after his nightly wash without a shirt on and sat down beside her without any uncertainty, she was overcome with a strange nervousness she hadn't felt since their first few times.
She studied the way he carefully unrolled a scroll he'd been reading for the past few days. Examined his fingers on the parchment, the dampness on his skin, the purple of his Rinnegan. The width of his chest. The muscles down his stomach and up his arms.
Sakura swallowed, shifting to relieve the heat gripping her—a complete failure of an attempt.
She'd felt almost nothing but despondency for weeks. He was her only oasis. If she had to be here—if she had to feel anything—she at least wanted to feel good.
"Hmm?" Sasuke hummed, eyes flicking to her waiting stare. "What was that?"
Her cheeks flushed. "We both know you heard. Don't act like you don't know."
"Unless you say it, I don't." Except he was already rolling the scroll closed.
But it'd been her initiating contact all through Lightning. She'd had to reach out first for all this time. Wasn't it enough that she obviously wanted it and he knew that? She wasn't being tortured while they traveled, so couldn't he start initiating again, finally?
Shrugging, Sakura turned away from him. "Suppose you'll just stay ignorant then."
She heard the scroll opening a beat later.
"Aa. Okay."
After a few seconds, it was apparent that he intended to let her desire go unanswered if she remained quiet.
Gods. He was genuinely insufferable sometimes.
Her head whipped back to glare at him. "Ugh, really, Sasuke—"
Lips swallowed her sentence as he swooped down with a smirk and kissed her. A firm palm pulled her shoulder back around so she'd face him. His other hand tugged up on the hem of her dress bunched around her thighs. Teeth were nipping on her bottom lip, asking her to open her mouth to him more. Water dripped from his bangs onto her cheeks. His fingers grazed over her hip and onto her stomach.
She kissed him back hungrily, suddenly aware of how much she'd missed this part of him. How keenly possessive she was of how this was hers and hers alone and she was certain he'd never given this to anyone else. How the bloodlines in both his eyes every time he filled her vowed he'd never give this to anyone else.
How much she loved him even though it didn't matter.
When she was on her back, the hand on her shoulder skated down her arm. He grasped her wrist, tugging it between them until she palmed his cock through his shorts. Fingers sliding over hers, he tightened them into a fist, wrapping himself in her small hand.
Even though it didn't matter—under Sasuke's rough, pleasurable need, she almost forgot she was a prisoner of war. Sometimes when he fit his hand around her neck and slid into her so slow she wanted to scream, she did forget.
"Is that how you want it?" he murmured.
She hadn't hesitated at all. "If you want to, yes."
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As soon as they arrived at the first enemy base in Fire, she was reminded.
Despite remaining blindfolded, Sakura knew she was on a stage before a crowd from the chorus of chattering voices. A nervous echo in the seal had her probing Sasuke for answers without success. The salt scent in the breeze told her they were close to a coast.
Someone tugged the cloth knotted on the back of her skull as soon as a silence swept over the gathering. She squinted against the sun, eyes darting over her shoulder to see who it was. Madara smiled back, twirling the blindfold in his fingers. Beside him, Sasuke had a warning in his gaze.
Pursing her lips, she pivoted to face the crowd.
She nearly lost her balance at what greeted her. A hand on the low of her back—Sasuke's—caught her before she fell.
Ten prisoners were already lined up and without hoods. Usually, Madara waited until his speech was done to bring them out. Usually, she didn't know who would die until a second before it happened.
Until now, there hadn't been anyone she knew from Konoha except Ino. But she should've known what was waiting for her in Fire Country. She'd been so caught up in making it through each individual moment as it came that she hadn't given any thought to who she might have to face back home.
On their knees, arms locked in chains at their waists, Genma and Iyashi stared up at her solemnly.
She couldn't stop the gasp that emptied all the air from her lungs.
Hold it together... warned Sasuke.
He'd seen them there. He'd known when her blindfold came off that she'd confront people she knew. Even if he didn't know Iyashi, he'd certainly met Genma as a genin. Why hadn't he given her any heads up? Why did he always leave her in the dark?!
She felt him prickle at her rising indignation. I was worried that—
No! You always do this, Sasuke! I'm so sick of it! You should've warned me, she shouted back. You should've—
"Everyone, thank you for the welcome. I'm glad my procession has finally made it into Fire Country," Madara bellowed, walking to the front of the stage. He tossed the blindfold over the edge. "As I'm sure most of you are aware, I once called this country home. I once helped establish the shinobi village tasked with keeping this country safe. It's fitting that I find myself here again, on the precipice of founding a whole new era. Though I never lived this close to the border of Tea in my first lifetime, I always found this small landbridge quite beautiful."
Sakura was barely breathing, focus darting between the two familiar prisoners. If they were surprised to see her behind Madara, unchained and backed by two teams of enemies, neither showed it. Sasuke's chakra swept over her through his touch on her back, soothing in its warmth—doing nothing but angering her more.
Madara droned on. "As I traveled through Water and Lightning, visiting our bases and meeting with the army, I always started my visit with a speech. I wanted to energize the troops and congratulate them on our win and continued success. I praised them for their work in weeding out our defeated enemy. I introduced them to our biggest prize yet, the Allies' top medical commander, Sakura Haruno." He lifted a hand in her direction; a thousand eyes fell upon her. Hers remained locked on Genma and Iyashi, uncaring of what the crowd of enemies might find in her countenance. "However, I'll skip those formalities this time. Words travel faster than this group has, so I'm certain mine have reached everyone here. Instead, today, I've brought you all out here to bear witness to the Will of Fire—Konoha's long-touted virtue!"
Confused whispers spread through the crowd. The amusement in Madara's voice on the last sentence made Sakura's skin crawl.
Tell me what's going to happen, Sasuke! she begged, willing herself not to tremble.
...I know as little as you do. I don't know what's going on. Stepping forward, Sasuke moved to her side. I'm sorry.
"They say the Will of Fire is what protected Konoha. It's what protected its shinobi and its way of life. But where is Konoha now? Where are its shinobi?" Madara let the questions sit in the hush before continuing—"I'll tell you. Konoha is gone. Its shinobi are defeated—dead, or running, or chained. One of its top commanders stands before you sealed to the Uchiha heir. Six kneel below her, ready for their execution."
Six? She inspected the line of ten again—but she didn't recognize anyone else.
"She could save all these Fire citizens. Sakura Haruno alone could spare these ten lives today. Until now, the Will of Fire that burns bright within her has sentenced nearly a hundred of her compatriots to death before this army. She chooses that useless virtue of Konoha over the lives of those she stood with for the past five years. She would rather these shinobi and civilians die than live a life where they'd be free to chase their wildest dreams—in the world I seek to create." Madara turned towards the back of the podium, search landing on the man to her right. "Come forward, Sasuke."
He heeded the call decisively, striding forward to his patriarch's side. Hand clasping the younger Uchiha's shoulder, Madara returned his attention to the crowd.
"Today, I want you all to see the foolishness of your enemy's conviction. Watch how their top medical commander—the one who was tasked with ensuring their survival—instead gives these allies of hers a coward's death!"
There was a pause in his speech, one in which he perhaps expected applause. But the crowd appeared bewildered by his semantics, forcing Madara to move on without fanfare. If their lack of enthusiasm were offensive, he hid it expertly.
"So, Sakura Haruno." Glancing at her over his shoulder, Madara's eyes narrowed as a sinister grin spread over his lips. "Do the Allies intend to reform an army?"
…That was the first of the ten questions he always asked during her recent interrogations.
Did Madara mean to torture her in front of this crowd? That didn't make any sense. Making her bleed before his top brass was probably safe, but doing so as a show to a whole base of low-ranked followers wouldn't further anything. Wasn't his plan to make it appear like she was reluctantly working with him? Like his nephew successfully lorded over her?
Sasuke had to prompt her with a stern—Answer!—before her mind spun back into the moment.
"I—I don't—know," she stuttered, throat tight.
"Kill the first prisoner, Sasuke."
Five seconds passed. Even Sakura knew it was four too many. Madara quietly hissed something that had Sasuke obediently calling Chidori into his palm a moment later.
…Look away, Sasuke commanded.
Her eyes squeezed shut as soon as Sasuke's finger pointed in the direction of the first captive below them. The sound of electricity cackled in the air. A collective breath passed over the clearing. Then a soft thump of a body hitting the earth pierced into her skull.
When she faced the world again, a corpse lay face-down where a middle-aged woman had once kneeled. Three prisoners were sobbing now. One fell onto her elbows, begging Madara for mercy.
An impossible prayer. Madara Uchiha didn't even know the word.
"What are the coordinates to the hidden Allied bases you know of?" Madara asked.
The answer locked in her lungs as her swimming vision slid back to the next person in line.
Genma.
His expression was blank. His posture was straight. Sakura might've thought he was merely standing guard at Kage Tent as he occasionally used to on Konoha base, if not for the chains, and the crowd of enemies, and how his knees dug into the earth.
Genma held her gaze, dipping his head in a single nod. It's okay, he seemed to tell her. It's okay.
It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. It would never be okay again—she should be the one down there, facing death. She was supposed to shoulder this sentence—not him. Not Iyashi, who was four prisoners down.
Not any of these people.
What was she supposed to do? How could she do this any longer? How many more would have to die before she could follow?
There's nothing you can do for them. Sasuke's voice was smooth as a lake. Even if you answer, Madara will still kill them. Only eight more questions and then we can leave. I'll get you through this, too. He pointed his lightning-laced hand at Genma, tone taking on that of an order. You don't know any bases. Say it.
Sasuke was right. Whether she answered or not, Genma was going to die. Everyone was going to die. All of this was inevitable the moment Madara won.
Nothing she did mattered—it hadn't ever mattered.
Her mind went blank. "...I don't know any bases."
.
.
Near the end of the routine feast on that first Fire Country base—when Sasuke's attention was pulled to the opposite end of the table by a dispute and Suigetsu pushed a carrot around his plate with a scowl—Sakura erected the strongest barrier she could manage around her thoughts.
She gave it a handful of seconds. Just to make sure Sasuke didn't notice.
But his head never turned her way.
Peeking across the table, she confirmed Suigetsu was still battling with his vegetables.
And when she was certain no one had any regard for the Allied captive hidden away behind the Uchiha heir, Sakura tucked her butter knife into the long sleeves of her Akatsuki robes.
Then she put the deed out of mind, settled her musings on how none of this mattered, and released the unnoticed walls.
Hi! I missed you guys :) I'm back!
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thanks for reading, as always.
and thanks to Leech for beta-reading