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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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2:19. Wind
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HAVE YOU finally come looking for answers, Sakura Haruno?
You always asked both too many and too few questions. It was all quite amusing, really. Wanting to know things of little value while turning away from the answers that mattered most. You were endlessly fascinating in that way.
For someone like me, who's lived a long life in this shinobi world of smoke and lies, it was refreshing to observe someone like you, who struggles to hide your thoughts and emotions.
Staring at the decoded section, Sakura was unsure whether to laugh or scowl at how vividly she could imagine Orochimaru saying it all.
The Sannin had triple-layered his shorthand on entry 39. The intricacy meant none but the best codebreakers could ever hope to unscramble it. Even with her knowing the language, every sentence took an hour for Sakura to decipher.
With all their traveling, the feasts, meetings with Madara, healing his cells, the over-vigilant watch of Sasuke and her guards—finding blocks of time to devote to Orochimaru's logs was a challenge. But when she didn't put her brain to something in the quiet pauses between, the ever-growing pool of familiar faces wraithed into existence in her mind's eye.
Dozens now—more already hidden away that Madara didn't bring for her to see. People she grew up with. Family members of friends already lost. Those of old clans and those from civilian families. Older shinobi she'd feared as a child; young shinobi who never should've been forced into this war in the first place.
Sasuke said, on his recommendation, Madara was transporting all those he captured to a prison Hidan built—a massive, underground, single-celled monstrosity staffed by the strongest loyalists. They'd seized too many skilled shinobi to trust the smaller bases with housing. The main Earth Country base had adequate space and manpower to ensure the captives were kept in line.
At least they wouldn't be alone, Sakura thought.
And risky as it was to house so many in one place, it was safer than leaving them at bases without talent or skill to recapture high-level jonin. Plus, boarding them all together was decent bait.
They'd yet to bite, but Madara still hoped the remaining guerilla force might come forward to free their comrades.
So said Sasuke.
He'd started sharing more about the discussions between him and Madara ever since she began disclosing coordinates as he ordered. Ever since the captives became hauntingly familiar and dangerously high-Classed.
At first, it was almost entirely Fire-affiliated shinobi, and Sasuke only had her reveal one Konoha base at a time.
But then he was ordering her to give multiple locations when Madara asked. And then—not a week later—she was rattling off Kumo and Suna coordinates.
Kiri had long been betrayed and excavated, Sasuke claimed, and he had too little information on Iwa to deduce if the coordinates he knew were still correct.
More and more suppressed Allies greeted her through Fire's bases. People she'd come to know in the five years they fought together, of all different loyalty and nationality. Even some from Kiri and Iwa, despite never giving Madara their divisions' secrets.
Madara planned for her to visit nearly 20 bases in her homeland.
…Twenty.
Nearly 20 times she'd be forced to face the fact she betrayed them. There was no getting around that, now. No ignoring the magnitude and rank of the new captives. No reasoning away how Madara had stopped her torture and their slaughter, as promised.
Those weren't the only benefits awarded for her new cooperation.
When moved between bases, she was no longer blindfolded. He stopped dictating what she wore to speeches and feasts. Her suppressors were removed for large portions of the day now, though the anklets remained during travel.
She'd pleased Madara very much.
She was a traitor, through and through.
It didn't matter how Sasuke tried to ease her worries or what she justified it with in the dead of night. The deed was done—her bed was made.
So she fucked him when she couldn't bear to lie in it any longer. She let him fuck her when she wanted to forget. She drank her draughts, and deciphered Orochimaru's logs, and barred from mind all the shinobi she single-handedly turned into prisoners of war because he'd told her to. Didn't think about how the same man who orchestrated the plan that was destroying her was the same man she used to overlook it.
Going through the motions with an empty head and closed heart. Giving herself to Sasuke when the emptiness was too much or not enough. Drowning out the silence with Orochimaru's written words. That was all she could manage. All she was able to do, even if she might manage more.
She couldn't leave—couldn't die—couldn't walk without Sasuke's approval.
But he allowed her to decode. So that's what she did.
Sometimes she caught him glancing over her shoulder at her work. She wrote the deciphered sections in her own shorthand, on a blank page in the back of the logbook. It was far less intricate than Orochimaru's—but it kept the words from Sasuke's prying eyes.
An exercise in futility, she knew. He could simply read her if he truly wished. Even though she could access her chakra more often than not now, for large swathes of the day, she still remained suppressed and vulnerable to his snooping.
Not that it mattered if Sasuke read what she decoded. More likely than not, he already knew anything Orochimaru might deign to share with her from the grave.
But he seemed curious, nonetheless; and she felt defensive whenever he snuck a look.
It was one of these moments now.
In the dining hall of a new base, they ate breakfast before setting out for the next one. She worked through one of Orochimaru's sentences while Sasuke studied her pencil in his periphery. Across from them sat Suigetsu, utterly uninterested in the book, yawning and scratching himself. Pestering Kahyo whenever the table grew too hushed.
The rest of the guards were grumbling about the early start. Some glanced her way and quickly dismissed her scribbling. Some watched longer than was comfortable, dark gazes sliding back to her when Sasuke's attention focused elsewhere.
She didn't bother hiding the book from them, either. They didn't care what she was reading nor paid any attention to her work.
Those shady, lingering looks she'd long grown numb to. She pretended not to notice them. Their owners never did anything more than peek; they'd find amusement in her becoming angered or flustered. With Sasuke constantly orbiting around her, none of the guards would dare try anything, anyway.
Of everything, their unsavory staring was the least of her troubles.
Sweat licked down the nape of her neck. The fresh bindings on her chest were already soaked through. This hot, this early in the morning—the trip today was shaping up to be a miserable move.
From the heat seeping even underground now, Sakura guessed the world had entered June.
Six months.
She'd been a prisoner for six months.
It was strange how a human body could acclimate to things. The Sakura that started the war wouldn't have lasted six weeks under Madara's chains.
Now she was six months in, sitting at an enemy dining table underground: unsuppressed, washed, fed. Reading through a visibly-coded book without any distractions or restrictions.
Almost as if she weren't a prisoner at all.
A little like she was no different than the seven shinobi seated around her, all willfully under Madara's command.
What would an Ally think, catching her in this moment? What would they tell their command? Who could see this scene and think she hadn't joined the enemy?
Even her own mind had trouble resolving it. If it walked like a dog, and barked like a dog—
She wasn't fighting anymore. Wasn't silently opposing. Didn't give Madara or her captors a hard time. Never spoke back to anyone but Sasuke. Her healing talents were helping Madara regain strength while the deals she made were cutting down what little Allied power was left.
…Hadn't she joined the enemy?
Days ago, when she asked, Sasuke guessed they'd arrive in Earth Country by August. She didn't inquire what month it currently was. Somehow, speculating the date felt easier to swallow than knowing it with certainty.
Still, Sakura prayed his guess was right.
Two months. If it was indeed June, she need only continue in this treacherous existence for two more months. And what was two months?
She'd made it six already.
Pulling her attention back to the page, Sakura let Orochimaru's writing fill up the empty spaces in her thoughts.
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I've heard you and the jinchuriki you supported are similar in that sense. Much like my own teammates were. Perhaps that is why Jiraiya and Tsunade cherished you both so—because you reminded them of who they once were.
Even I see it sometimes. A glimpse of the girl she used to be in you.
But those days are long over for us Sannin. My teammates are gone, and I, too, will soon follow. For a bit.
Similar as you are to Tsunade, your unfamiliar behavior often has me wondering about your goals. Who exactly are you aligned with? How deep do your loyalties lie? To whom are you truly loyal?
One eventually becomes settled in their choices and methods after they've had enough experiences. A shinobi without confidence is a shinobi destined to die young. My only desire in life is to escape death, so I never allowed doubt in myself.
You brought an uncertainty I couldn't plan for, however. With your addition and effect, plotting anything worthwhile became harder over the months.
It was me who sought you. Yet, unexpectedly, I'm now asking myself: Did I make a mistake in sealing us all to the same fate? Was it a miscalculation to tie you in?
It's been so very difficult to strategize with you in the mix. Truthfully, I can no longer see the ending.
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The stream's water was cool and refreshing. Sakura slunk into it, uncaring that she'd have to rebind herself when she got out. Her travel clothes swayed on a low branch by the forest line. Full, lush trees around the bank offered shade from the midday sun. Frogs croaked as they basked on nearby rocks. The pebbles on the riverbed were smooth and slick on the bottoms of her feet.
It was definitely June.
She'd had the thought days ago, but seeing the vibrancy of Fire's forests and smelling the hot scent of cedar and summer flowers affirmed it.
Water up to her chin, she watched Sasuke undress and stroll into the stream some feet away, his skin prickling from the temperature difference. Unlike her, he disrobed fully. She carefully kept her sights away from his hips.
If she looked, she'd respond—but she was sore from this morning and the night before. He wouldn't remove her suppressors until they arrived at the next base, so she couldn't relieve the soreness herself. And she'd be damned if she asked Sasuke Uchiha to heal the body aches he'd given her.
No. It was best to simply look elsewhere.
After all the time they'd spent comforting one another, the novelty of his disgustingly perfect body had slightly worn off. It was a bit easier for Sakura to regard him and see beyond the chiseled muscles and immaculate proportions.
The deep scars laced over his back were more pronounced now that she'd felt them with her own hands. The patchwork of healed burns up his arms sometimes caught her eye more than the thick veins they covered.
It turned out he was human, after all.
But—still a little holier than her. Still closer to the Gods than she'd ever be. Though they'd put their treasured son through trials, their favor wasn't any less apparent.
If he'd descended to human, she must've fallen to something even lesser.
Sinking into the water, Sasuke peered at her oddly. "You're always thinking strange things."
"Then don't listen," she shot back, unfazed. They were well past the point of her being embarrassed about his hearing her thoughts on him. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed by them than she did these days.
"I don't try to. You're too loud."
"Pardon me, then. Should I whisper in my own head?"
He smirked. "Aa, great. Would you?" Then, before she could bite, he closed the distance between them and dropped his voice to a whisper. "We need to talk. I'll pull us into the seal. Alright?"
Brow raised, she looked over his shoulder into the forest. He'd ordered their travel party to break for an hour, and it didn't appear any followed the two of them here. If they were quiet enough, there was no reason not to have the conversation normally.
But unlike her, Sasuke had chakra to scan for eavesdroppers. Who was she to argue?
Sakura shrugged. "Alright."
Sharingan blinking to life before her, the bright summer world hazed into a black, swirling abyss. Sasuke was wearing his usual nondescript black attire; observing herself, he'd dressed her in the long, red qipao dress she wore as a genin.
"...What's with the clothes?" she asked, pinching the fabric at her waist.
"Nothing. Better than just your bindings, right?"
Sakura monitored his expression for anything of note. But as always, he gave nothing away; she gave up with a sigh. She wasn't sure why the sight had stirred something hopeful in her, anyway. It was just a dress.
Her gaze fell to the side—to the brown box she'd forgotten about.
"And that's still here." Approaching, she knelt to examine it. Nothing special jumped out. It was a plain box made of what looked like wood but felt smooth as glass to the touch. Unlabeled, with no clear way to open it. Running her fingers over its edge, she peeked over her shoulder. "You've never told me what this is."
"It's nothing important."
"Then why's it here?"
"Ignore it. That's not what I want to discuss, and we don't have much time." Sasuke perched a hand on his hip as his mouth settled into a firm line.
Sakura let her curiosity drift away. The strength of the tonics she took made it easy. If he didn't want to tell her, she wouldn't find out, no matter how much she argued. And it seemed this was something he didn't want to share.
Turning on her heel, she seated herself atop the box, crossing her legs.
Rather than getting frustrated and angry over his refusal, it was best to let the matter go. Better to let him win as he always did and remain on good terms for the day.
From experience: Being on bad terms with the only person she had left was… Unbearable.
"Okay, then. What is it?"
"During a recent interrogation session… A few weeks ago, when they were breaking your hand," he started, then hesitated. The space around them pulsed with displeasure and muted anger.
Recalling it with a grimace, she nodded. "...What about it?"
"You thought about how bones can only heal a finite number of times. Remember?"
"Hmm…" She tried to jog her memory, but couldn't recall exactly what she'd been thinking beyond the pain and torture itself. Such a thing wasn't common knowledge beyond higher-level medics, though. "I don't remember, but that's true."
"Is it only bones?" asked Sasuke, sights narrowed. "What about other parts of the body? Are there limits on those as well?"
"All cells have a limit on the number of times they can regenerate. Why?"
"What's the limit?"
"I don't know. I don't know if anyone knows. It's impossible to know until you hit it, I think. And it's probably different for every person. Or even every cell. Why?"
"What happens when you hit it? The limit."
Sakura bit back the rising irritation. "...I don't know that either since I've never seen it in practice. But if a cell can no longer repair itself or be repaired, the only thing left for it to do is die. Or…" Gaming out the process, her mind slugged through the strong calmative with difficulty. "Maybe it'd morph into something that resembles a cancer cell, but I can't say for sure."
"Either way, that cell would cause harm to the body it belonged to." Sasuke was looking through her, to some faraway thought. "Correct?"
"Correct. Again, why?" By now, she knew him well enough to know that when he didn't reply the first time, he wouldn't reply unless she pressed. "I've answered you, now you answer me. You know I hate when you do that."
His vision refocused. "Do you think it's something you can do to Madara? With the cells he has you working on."
Her brows furrowed; truthfully, she hadn't expected this conversation to turn to Madara. "Like…over-stimulate them?"
"Like what we're talking about. Heal him as he requests, but cast the healing jutsu more than necessary."
"I… Well, I've never thought about it..." Cast the healing jutsu more than necessary? It wasn't something she'd ever tried—ever thought to do. No medic would waste chakra healing a healthy body, after all. But that didn't mean it wasn't possible. "I don't see why I couldn't."
"Do you think he'd notice?"
Frowning, Sakura admitted, "You're asking things I don't know. This is all theory. I mean, the parts of his body I'm healing aren't even attached to him. Assuming what he reintegrates are healthy cells, how could he know one way or another? And until cells hit their limit, they should behave as normal, healthy cells."
Sasuke nodded along. "Right. Madara's not a medic either, so he probably won't notice anything that isn't overtly abnormal."
The new strategy pieced itself together in her brain as they stared at one another in the abyss.
Sasuke was the one who ordered her to take over Orochimaru's role—yet here he was now, telling her to weaken Madara as she did it. That he sought to usurp his patriarch was unmistakable, but wasn't this a roundabout way of doing it? Wouldn't it have been better that she never started healing Madara in the first place?
His motives were clear, but the constantly evolving schemes and pivoting plans didn't make much sense once analyzed with any amount of scrutiny.
War Sakura would've pointed this out. Would've told him: If he wanted to take Madara's power, he should get on with it as soon as possible.
The longer he let Madara solidify his authority, the harder it would be to seize it. Madara had been extremely weak before she healed him—Sasuke should've moved then. Now he wanted to bank on an untested theory? There was no guarantee she could do it. No guarantee his patriarch wouldn't notice if she did.
But she wasn't War Sakura anymore. Now, she was something a little less. And soon, she'd be nothing at all.
So Sasuke could do whatever he saw fit, as long as he kept his promise. Inefficiencies in his method of strategizing weren't her problem. Ghosts paid no mind to the world of the living. Whether he killed Madara tomorrow, or in two months, or changed his plans a hundred more times, it didn't matter.
"If that's what you want me to do, I'll try," she concluded.
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I digress—you didn't find this entry to read my final musings, did you?
I know Madara will one day ask you to take over the healing process, so I left that clue for you on the last page, expecting you'll think to check my logs. It will surely pique your inquisitiveness. But beyond that, why have you come to read this passage? Do you think I've left you something vital? Are you hoping I divulge the reason I'm following Sasuke to my death?
What more do you hope to find in this book?
Or perhaps you hold no more hope by the time you read this. You're already so broken, little kunoichi. I can only imagine what state you'll be in when this ends. If you're as similar to Tsunade as it appears, many years of anguish await you, no matter the outcome. That is the duty of a medic.
I've also fought in many wars. Wars between nations. Between comrades. Between friends.
War never leaves a person. Never truly. Even when the brain blissfully forgets the worst atrocities and years go by. It stays a shadow on your back until your last day. Until your last breath, it will burden you. It will change you and those around you. Harden those it doesn't kill and kill those who can't harden.
Some say it gets easier. Sometimes I wonder if Tsunade or Jiraiya would've said such a thing.
For this, I feel as if we are kindred spirits—and because you're sealed to Sasuke in a somewhat similar way that I am bound to him. Although I won't explain the nature of my own ties, I do suspect your seal is more difficult for you than my duty is for me.
Being sealed to someone of a completely different nature and background. Someone who is too honest and too dishonest to handle you with any care. Someone wracked with such volatile and deep emotions that anything additional would send him over the edge. Someone who cannot stay by your side at any length while you're suppressed without keeping your constantly-turning mind drugged.
I will admit: Watching the two of you clash against one another is so very entertaining.
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The first part of the theory proved possible.
After a small tweak to the mental hand signs and a specific focus, she could cast the healing jutsu continuously on healthy cells. An immediately apparent downside to the morphed jutsu was its energy consumption. Maintaining it required nearly double the amount of chakra. Damaging the cells repeatedly would've been the easier way.
But with Madara in the room, that wasn't an option; however, he barely paid attention to her work, anymore.
Since she'd given up 18 bases and hadn't fussed over the bi-weekly healings asked of her, the Uchiha patriarch rarely spared her a glance. As she regenerated the cells beyond what was necessary, Madara chatted with Sasuke about this and that.
Then she voiced the process was complete, and he reintegrated the parts as usual, and everyone went their separate ways.
No suspicion. No questions. No indication he noticed she'd done something different.
But even before this session, there hadn't been any of that. Past the first few times they'd traveled to Orochimaru's lab, Madara never showed an interest in the healing process. Sakura hadn't given it much thought; most fighters couldn't be bothered with medical.
Now that she was doing something deceitful, though—that indifference towards her total control of his health seemed glaringly foolhardy. Shockingly so, to say the least.
Madara's hubris displayed more than ever.
For a moment, she wondered what gave him such blind confidence in himself and his position that he wasn't at all worried about the danger she posed. Then she remembered it was June.
It was June, and the last battle happened in mid-December. It'd been six months since he won the war.
And in those six months, had the Allies counterattacked even once? Did they try to resurface? Attempt to free their captives or take down one of Madara's smaller bases?
Six months of complete silence would make any leader confident. Even she could see the writing on the wall. His enemies were crushed.
Madara had nothing to be afraid of—nothing except his own flesh and blood, whom he now appeared to trust more than ever.
So when Sasuke returned later that night with 50 more soldier pills, the first she'd gotten in over a week, saying he wouldn't be able to get any more for her—it was surprising. If the stock came from Madara's personal stash, there should've been no reason to cut Sasuke off. If Sasuke was stealing them, there was no better time to ask Madara for them directly.
"What do you mean?" she queried, hands out to receive his gift.
Sasuke dropped the small pouch of pills into her palms. "I mean what I said. This is the last batch I can get you."
"Why? Have the stockpiles run out?"
"Yes," he answered, holding her gaze. "There's no more."
"What about the bases I've been giving up? Didn't he find more there?"
"No."
For her byakugou's sake, that was a shame. But, realistically, Madara should've never gotten his hands on any of the Allies' soldier pills. Housing such large quantities at hidden bases was totally against protocol from the beginning. That her enemies hadn't found any from the locations she betrayed was ultimately a good thing.
And anyway, it seemed Sasuke brought her all these pills because he planned to use Hundred Healings in his fight with Madara. For just one person, she had plenty of stored chakra. She'd maintained a whole army for hours with far less.
Honestly, she didn't need any more soldier pills. In two months she'd be dead.
The base they were on tonight was so small that Sasuke opted to stay in the travel tents. He'd erected theirs tens of yards from the others, though still close enough that they spoke in whispers. Pitch black inside the burlap walls, the new-moon sky outside offered little in the way of light. All she could make of Sasuke was his shadowy figure and the glint of his eyes.
He clicked off her suppressors, and she made swift work of building a barrier around the seal.
Opening the bag, she chose the first pill her fingers found and plopped it on her tongue. Sasuke monitored her like a crimson-eyed hawk. Lately, he always did when her anklets were off.
The reason was obvious.
Her strength made him nervous.
With chakra, taking her own life would be as simple as snapping her fingers. She could stop her heart with a single thought. Cut the connectors in her brain faster than he could blink.
With chakra, he couldn't stop her from summoning Lady Katsuyu and running away to Shikkotsu Forest. Humans who weren't Sages couldn't live long in the sage regions, but Sakura didn't need long. She just needed the escape.
Unsuppressed and with a nearly-full byakugou, it would be comically easy for her to die or flee. Sasuke's behavior said he'd come to the same conclusion.
He would always beat her in battle, but in this particular fight: She'd almost certainly win.
Sakura had no intentions of doing so, however. Not anymore. Until Sasuke allowed it or Madara killed her, she was trapped in this cage they'd both carefully constructed around her.
Because within enemy clutches were hundreds of Allies, now. All caught through intelligence she'd disclosed. Imprisoned by the loyalty she broke. If Madara couldn't reach her, they would pay in her place. If she left this tent or left this world, he'd simply revoke his promise and murder them all in anger.
So Sasuke didn't have to be nervous each time he removed the suppressors. He didn't need to supervise her every move.
…Surely he knew what he'd done.
Plucking another pill from the bag, Sakura held his watchful gaze dispassionately. Fresh chakra surged within when she swallowed it.
There wasn't any way he—one of the most intelligent people she'd ever met—didn't know. In absolutely no world was this unintentional. Not when done by Sasuke. It was so clever of him, frankly. A scheme far more in line with his title of a master tactician than the nonsensical plans he laid around Madara.
In a single request that he pretended wasn't an order, he'd effortlessly added hundreds of links to the chains holding her here.
She should hate him for it. Six months ago, she would've thought she could.
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Months ago, I suggested we find a new contact. After you were trapped in Madara's base for a week, and Sasuke refused to return you to the Allies for weeks past that. Even though I brought you in the first place; I thought Sasuke would quickly agree, as he'd been angry with me since the agreement began.
From where you are now, I'm sure an intelligent kunoichi such as yourself can deduce his answer.
You were the best option for ensuring he survives when the war ends. I still believe that.
But seeing him pale and shining with sweat as he carried your slack body into our base after the Land of Tea. The way he rarely left his room but to shoo away Tsunade and Kakashi's missives to return you to the Allies immediately.
I began to worry that you might bring about a different sort of end for my dear student.
There's no turning back now, though, is there? So I shall leave that thought there.
While I could write more about how fascinating you two have been, it'd be foolish to anger the one promising to bring me back. I have complete faith that a Konoha kunoichi like you will keep your honor.
Do not forget what you swore with blood, Sakura Haruno.
Alas, I'm running out of space and time, and I've written nothing of significance. Thinking of you toiling over this shorthand I've told you to read, however… Hoping to uncover gold and finding this instead…
Truthfully, I think it is hilarious. I can just imagine your face now: A pretty scowl. Maybe muttering how I'm a snake bastard under your breath. You are, at least, never boring, little medic.
So for that, I suppose I'll gift you with something you might deem interesting.
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A little over a week later, she found herself at the seventeenth Fire Country base in the middle of the day, on the last stage she would grace in her homeland. They'd depart for Wind Country tomorrow—or tonight, if Sasuke so chose.
It was scorching. The base was by the Bay of Fire, straddling the border of the Land of Rivers. A section of Fire she'd never visited—the ground was rocky and dry, the trees scrawny and twisted. Though the earth here was flat, its terrain resembled a cliffside before a waterfall or the base of a rock mountain.
As if a long-lost portion of Earth Country had migrated into Fire, no cover could be found on this stony ground. Everyone was sweating. It smelled of bodies and stench.
She'd taken off everything but her white bindings and black undershorts to travel here; usually, she'd redress before showing herself to Madara's followers. Today she stood under the hot noon sun as she was, fanning herself with a useless hand. Most of the other few hundred shinobi were in a similar state of undress, shielding their eyes. Some casted Wind or Water Release techniques on one another. Six in the crowd drew larger groups, offering their Ice Release to others.
Sasuke turned to Kahyo when he noticed it. Despite herself, Sakura glanced back, too. She didn't care for the woman. If not for Kahyo, she would've succeeded; she wouldn't be here on this stupid platform, in this awful heat, in this desolate existence.
The woman could at least cool Sakura off after what she'd done.
Kahyo shook her head at the expectancy on Sasuke's face. "There's no moisture in the air here. I can't use my technique without it."
"Suigetsu, summon water," ordered Sasuke.
A second later, huge puddles began forming across the stage between the group, bubbling up into existence out of the stone. Sakura peered down at the water. It looked strategic in its placement, like it was forming something. The sight tickled a memory—
A lush, Water forest. Anxiety and apprehension. A red-cloud black robe and a wave-carved mask. The bark of a tree digging into her palms. Unfamiliar clothing itching against her too-small, foreign body.
But this time, the water spelled—
AS YOU COMMAND O GREAT UCHIHA-SAMA
Suigetsu was grinning when her gaze lifted to him. As she recalled, he'd frozen the water himself after summoning it back then. So why was Sasuke looking toward Kahyo? Didn't Suigetsu also have Ice Release?
He doesn't, Sasuke answered. He freezes it using Wind Release. It's not the same and won't hold in this heat.
"Will this do?" he spoke aloud.
"Yes, Sasuke-sama." Kahyo's irises morphed into milky white, cut down the middle by a single blue line.
That had Sakura turning back to the crowd, a rush of anger washing through her. It didn't subside even when the ice particles brushed her burning skin like a balm.
Deep down, she knew it was irrational to be angry with Kahyo. Kahyo merely followed orders; she had only slightly more agency than Sakura did. Anyone called in by their superior in that situation and ordered to Do something! would've acted the same.
But if not Kahyo, then who?
Because if she wasn't mad at Kahyo, then she had to be mad at Sasuke, and she couldn't find it in herself to feel that way toward him any longer. She physically couldn't be angry with Sasuke anymore. No matter what he'd done or what he planned to do—she'd already been so furious with him so many times, yet they always ended in the same position they started, regardless.
They were all the other had in this place. Being infuriated with him was like biting the hand that fed her or stabbing her own foot.
He was the only one she had left in the world, maybe. The only person here who cared about her. The only man who'd ever seen all of her.
...It was easier to be mad at Kahyo. And she was, and that was that.
When Sakura thought the crowd might give up waiting and leave against orders, Madara finally appeared without any apology for his tardiness or the sweaty irritation he'd caused. He swept onto the podium smiling wide, snapping his fingers at a group of shinobi close to the front. They body-flickered away in an instant as Madara took center stage, clearing his throat for effect.
"What a beautiful day it is down here on the southern coast! This is my final stop in wonderful Fire Country. It seems even the Gods grant me good weather on these most important occasions!" Madara bellowed before quietly chuckling to himself. "You're all likely wondering about the delayed start. Let me clear the air—there were some unforeseen but welcome changes in preparing the newest batch of prisoners. For morale and the compliment, I like to show each base I visit the trophies gained through our army's hard work. But those trophies I intended to display today were suddenly overshadowed by the newest prisoners captured yesterday—by none other than the diligent shinobi of this very base!"
The crowd cheered as the atmosphere grew thick with anticipation. Something familiar in Madara's tone had Sakura summoning thoughts of her hometown—drifting half her mind away from the moment. Protecting herself.
He had someone important. Someone she knew. She could feel it.
Who is it? she asked, remembering the path she used to take from the Academy to her parent's house.
It took exactly 13 minutes to get home from school. If she walked quickly, she could make it in nine. But when she stopped at her favorite dango shop on the way, it was closer to 20.
Her mother loved the dango from there, too.
…I don't know, Sasuke answered, touching against the memories she was seeing with unease. Keep your composure.
What did he think she was doing? Did he suppose she visited this place for fun?
Madara was saying more words.
Konoha's narrow streets were constructing themselves in the field. The flaking wood of old side paneling, the dusty roads between the houses, the smiles on her neighbor's faces. Power lines crisscrossing the buildings, laundry lines hanging in between—vases on porches full of Yamanaka flowers. Old Konoha clan symbols etched into doorways.
And then she inhaled, and part of home was real and right in front of her. Knees down in the dusty road. Squeezed into the narrow walkway. All chained. All suppressed.
None ever going home again.
Konoha's medical division. Hosho. Io. Kanpo. Kito. Kumadori. Kusushi. Magire. Migaki. Sukui. Yokaze.
Hakui.
Shizune.
.
.
The marriage covenant is not a covenant of slavery. If it were, it would still be widely used within the shinobi nations to subjugate. That its practice is all but forgotten in your generation, and even in mine, affirms as much.
Its weakness has always been that it cannot create bonds out of nothing. It's a method that can only build upon an existing foundation.
Sealing two strangers or two enemies together with the covenant seal merely mixes incompatible chakras. Their bodies will eventually reject the juinjutsu. Depending on the hostility between the shinobi involved, those rejections are sometimes fatal.
At its creation, it meant to join souls already familiar with one another. Form an unshakeable bond between two willing parties. When it came to prominence, couples thought it romantic.
But the problems of sealing people together in such an emotionally-charged way soon appeared. Arguments became exceedingly volatile since strong feelings felt by one passed to the other. No longer able to keep the negative thoughts of everyday life hidden away, some partners fell into a loop of compounding anger and annoyance. The constant sharing drove some weaker-willed shinobi insane.
Those without a sense of boundaries frequently search through their partner's mind without consent. If a partner died, the other was likely soon to follow, their brains unable to cope with the new silence and solitude. And if one decided they no longer wished to be married or sealed, it was difficult to remove the seal if the other partner objected. Painful to dissolve at best, dangerous if either person fought it at worst.
As things modernized, ceremonial rings replaced the seal. People began to value the mutual trust and privacy that came without marriage covenants, so they fell out of style.
.
.
Bases in Wind Country were more challenging to maintain than on the rest of the continent. At least if one sought to move the base underground—as any hidden base had to be.
Because the ground was sand for many yards down, and even the earth below that was largely unstable at best, any hidden base here required that a talented Earth Release user maintain it. Not every shinobi with Earth Release could manipulate sand to the degree such a job required, however. It was difficult to find someone who could, and even more difficult getting them to agree to do it. The job was thankless, without any promise of glory.
This problem had Madara calling Sasuke and Suigetsu in for talks the evening they arrived at the first Wind base. In their months-long procession, it was the only above-ground base they'd come to.
Most of Madara's bases in Wind were above ground, said Sasuke. Thus, they were all small and lacking in power.
Of all five nations, Madara had the weakest presence in this one.
With the Kazekage's whereabouts unknown, it was dangerous for his enemies to traverse the desert openly. More dangerous still to build into the sand without a high-level jonin maintaining the tunnels. But even if Madara found someone skilled enough—no shinobi alive could control sand like Gaara. He could entomb an entire base without breaking a sweat if he caught wind that Madara was hiding in one, expert Earth Release jonin there to battle him or not.
Even Madara had reasons to worry in Wind Country. The desert was an unforgiving place.
Sasuke guessed his patriarch wanted to modify the route and timetable. Expedite their travels through this second-to-last leg of the journey.
That all sounded terrific to Sakura. In her opinion: The sooner they left this place, the better.
"Does that mean we'll arrive in Earth before August?"
Sasuke had regarded her with an unreadable tension. "Possibly."
She'd nodded, and he'd ordered her not to go outside, and then he'd exited the tent.
I layered genjutsu so they can't get in, he'd told her.
And then the seal went cold with distance. That was half an hour ago.
She couldn't remember the last time Sasuke left her without stationing Suigetsu at her side. Well—she could, but chose not to. The unusual space was both wondrous and wretched; frightening and freeing. Sasuke was her shield as much as he was her cage.
But surely Kahyo was on guard outside in his and Suigetsu's place. Sakura still didn't care for her, but she trusted her as a woman.
Or so she thought.
Since not five minutes after that line of thinking, as she parsed out the last section of entry 39 on the hot sand, someone uninvited ducked into her tent. Akatsuki cloak hiding their frame. Black mask hiding their face.
The stab at anonymity was pointlessly stupid. She'd seen her guards' masks enough to know who wore the U-engraved one.
Her blood ran cold. What little chakra she could access she rammed into the seal on her neck.
Sasuke! Come back! Hurry!
"Hello, medic." Kajura's voice was smarmy and deep. Hovering by the entry, his masked head rotated around the small space. "He put the works on this tent, you know. For a prisoner—pathetic, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you," she spat, glaring at him.
If it were Madara, she wouldn't talk back like that. She knew better.
But this was Kajura—and he was only here because of her suppressors. He couldn't beat her in a real fight. He wasn't the kind of man who'd bother trying if they were on equal footing. Their physical positions put her at a further disadvantage; she'd been seated on the ground, hunched over Orochimaru's book.
Leaning back and scooting into the sand, Sakura inched away from him, gripping the pen she'd been writing with in a tight fist.
"Sasuke might let you get away with that smart mouth, but you'll talk nicer to me if you know what's good for you." He stalked towards her slowly, dropping his Akatsuki cloak on the ground behind him. "That sadistic fucker's a moron in more ways than one. I've been traveling with him for months. Does he really think I don't know my way around his genjutsu traps?"
Sasuke, can you hear me?! I need you to come back!
"He'll kill you for this, Kajura. You know he will," she warned as her back hit the tent wall. "He's threatened as much. If you turn around and walk out now, I won't tell him this happened."
She could slip under the burlap. Dive out of the tent and make a run for it into the desert. Without chakra, her chances of escaping him that way were close to zero—but trying would be better than laying here and letting it happen.
Please, Sasuke, please—
"I think you won't tell him even after it happens. You wouldn't want your precious Sasuke to know someone else had their way with you, would you? That might make him look at you a bit differently, after all. That's just how men are."
Kajura kneeled, hand reaching out to touch her ankle. She tried to kick him away—but his fingers encased it and squeezed painfully, tugging her whole leg towards him. With a grunt, she swung the pen at his arm. He batted her attempt away, laughing.
Like this, she was completely powerless. Weak.
At his mercy.
The calm that shock had brought abruptly faded into a panic. SASUKE! PLEASE! HELP ME!
"A toy's only fun when it's your toy. No one likes to share, and no man likes another man's leftovers. At least, I'm sure that's what the distinguished Uchiha men think. Me, on the other hand?" Kajura's free hand clamped around her other ankle and yanked her away from the wall into the middle of the tent. Shouting, she flailed as much as she could, but he was so much stronger with chakra. He tugged her legs apart, resting them on his shoulders. Holding them still with an iron grip. "I don't mind seconds. Or thirds, or fourths. Shit, for a woman like you, I'd take it no matter how ran through you got."
The air in the tent buzzed at the end of his sentence. She and Kajura froze simultaneously. Then the space above the sleeping mat was swirling with kamui—a hole materialized out of nowhere, gaping into existence—
A body flew through the opening. A second stepped through leisurely after it. Sakura blinked hard, trying to settle her swimming sights.
The hands around her ankles disappeared. She quickly crawled away, shaking and gasping.
"Uchiha-sama, I—"
"Amaterasu!"
Screams filled the tent. Still in shock and near hyperventilating, Sakura tried to take in the scene as best she could from the corner.
Sasuke and Madara were here. Sasuke's Rinnegan was bleeding. Kajura's hands were engulfed in black flames. Madara was smirking, firm grasp on his nephew's shoulder—holding him back.
"Now, now, Sasuke. Let it go."
Sasuke was shaking almost as badly as she was. Kusanagi drawn, lightning sparked down its blade.
"I understand the seal's made you possessive over the medic, but Kajura's done nothing wrong. It's not against my rules to touch the captives. Appears the connection's grown quite strong between you two, anyway." Madara tsked. "So I won't allow you to kill one of my men when no harm's been done."
"He's not a man—a man wouldn't do this," growled Sasuke, eyes sliding to her. Something feral passed over his expression. "He's DEAD—fucking—let go—"
"Men and women do all sorts of terrible things in war. Now, release your flames." Black Receiver sliding out of his free palm, Madara aimed it at her head. "Or she dies, too."
Sasuke scowled, veins popping across his jawline. "Madara! You saw what he—"
"Release your flames, brat. I won't order you a third time!"
Kajura's screams filled the silence. The two Uchiha glared at one another, anger rippling off one, annoyance dripping off the other.
Sasuke suddenly snarled, head whipping back to the burning man in the middle of the tent. "Kagutsuchi!" Blood pooled in his sharingan and dripped down his clean cheek. "Get the fuck out of my sight, bastard! If I see you again, I'll fucking kill you!"
Madara grinned. "That's right. You heard my nephew. Leave this base and find a medic if you wish to keep your life."
Sakura looked back at Kajura. He had no hands or wrists. Half the forearms he had left were charred to the elbow. Sobbing, he crawled out of the tent on his knees.
Madara said something before stepping back into the kamui portal.
It was all happening too fast. Or maybe it wasn't happening fast at all. Her mind couldn't process the events as they occurred. She felt like she'd missed some of the argument—or some of the struggle—or imagined this whole thing entirely.
Was she dreaming? What was going on?
Gaze falling to her hands, she watched them tremble in the sand, uncertain if they belonged to her or not.
—kura!
Sakura—
"Sakura! Hey! Look at me!" Her head swung up to find him. "...Are you okay?" Sasuke stared down at her, eyes wild. Searching. "Was I...late again?"
Huffing in air, she tried to compose herself. "I-I'm okay. He didn't—you came—" Tears welled, hot and thick in her vision. "You came!"
And then she was crying. But…she wasn't sure why. Her body felt empty—emotionless. Disconnected from the water running down her face.
Sasuke fell to his knees and gently pulled her to his chest. "Shh… You're okay. I'm here, you're safe." Warmth leaked out of their seal through her pathways, vibrating softly. His frame was like a cover from the world. "I made it this time."
.
.
The first time I came to notice you was when Sasuke saved you in the Forest of Death all those years ago. You were such small things. He likely would've escaped me that day if he'd left you there to die and run away on his own. I still remember that terrified look on both of your faces. I'm smiling even as I write this, thinking about it now.
You were all so innocent then. Such is life as a shinobi, I suppose.
And there you have it.
I do think I've rambled plenty. It's off to follow dear Sasuke's command for me. I've faced down death enough times that I never fear it, but even so, it's never a comfortable or enjoyable experience. Therefore, you must take accountability for my situation. It's on your command that he gives his, after all.
So I leave you with this simple message, Sakura Haruno:
You must resurrect me and keep Sasuke alive as promised. Binding or not, you gave me your word.
Keep it.
hi! missed you guys! as always, find the story on AO3 if you want a comment reply :)
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the invite code is: WV62DCrCqM
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thanks for reading, as always.
and thanks to Leech for beta-reading