Hatake Sakumo

Summary: One of Jiraiya's failed seals pulls Sakura into a brothel, in the past. Only Jiraiya is alive, unconscious, and drunk in a corner. That man lounging naked on a couch isn't the Hatake she knows. Haruno Sakura, he discovers, is an ANBU with crazy ideas about peace and helping neighboring countries. To a bored genius, she's a breath of life.

Note: Stay safe everyone.

BORDER BROTHEL

CHAPTER 1

Mist hung low over the burial ground. Dim and muted the rest of the elemental nations seemed to hold their breath. As first, and only, son left he'd the right to forego the ritual nōkan. He couldn't stomach leaving the body here to slowly decay. Nin liked to go fast. He'd still placed six coins at the entrance to pay the journey of Sanzu-no-Kawa. It was old and superstitious, but his grandfather had been more traditional than most nin. Besides, this was their home. Hatakes had been in the Land of Fire much longer than the village itself and it felt wrong not to recognize it. Their place in the temple had edges worn soft with time and innumerable cold season storms.

He'd picked the bones out of the ashes and placed the ashes in the chamber below the massive stone. There'd been no one else to perform a kotsuage. He'd never once wished so hard he had someone else close enough, using chopsticks casually around him, to pick up the same item. It was the sort of occurrence which happened if too many meals were taken together and usually avoided like a literal death plague for what it might represent. A funeral rite picking bones was the one and only time. His fist clenched in his pocket, hidden from the world and unable to hide it from himself. Damn him but he wanted someone there. He wanted someone standing close enough to warm his side.

His summon animals had always been fitting. Wolves could survive on their own, but wolves in the harshest conditions fared better and lived longer with a pack. Every pack had a strong member at the back, ready to protect. They had a pathfinder at the front to make it easier for those coming behind. The nails of his fist broke skin, a sharp sting which helped him as he walked these ashes to their clan's large stone monument. A standing memory of everyone who'd come before, who'd worked to bring him here. He couldn't fail them. Sakumo wouldn't.

He placed the ashes beneath the monument. His grandfather joining the others in their rest. After doing so Sakumo found it hard to breathe. A stone formed inside his chest, something hard and inescapable. Knowing the man who'd raised him and taught him everything was suddenly nothing more than charred remains to be swept here.

Their clan's monument had a roof protecting carved out stone bowls for flowers, incense, and star anise. One of his ancestors had long ago designed the grounds so fresh water ran behind. Symbolic of the water they'd brush across the dying's lips. Sakumo liked to think the stream would lead them to the larger waterways and eventually to the sea. So that they'd not be lost or alone. That the early death would let them avoid hardship, even if it wasn't wrought by oni. He kept telling himself this in hopes it'd become less painful.

Sakumo kept swallowing, not knowing what to say to those who'd come to pay their respects. So far they'd left a pile of mizuhiki envelopes with condolences and ryō. He remained in front of the monument, incense burning his sensitive nose, and hundreds skirted around him. He'd been given a week off for family leave. Only his grandfather had been the last one left, so family leave was mocking in its irony.

After the final burial days passed like hours. His days at work, scheduling and dealing with problems and going out on the missions he knew the less experienced shinobi couldn't handle. It blurred. Everything seemed to pass him. For a life which had for years been predictable and repetitive, this was new. The numbness began to eat at him in a way he'd never had to fight before.

The loneliness pervaded his home. Too large and too empty. He'd been promoted 4 years ago, so he could pay for the estate but for a sole soul it was haunting in excess.

When Jiraiya, one of the Sannin and the closest thing he had to a best friend, asked him to scout Uzushiogakure in search of the last remaining scrolls on sealing...He couldn't think of a reason to refuse. In fact, the thought of getting away from this desk, from his village who so easily used and then forgot his grandfather, it was rather appealing.

Her makeshift med ward was narrow, cramped with occupants, and poorly lit. Around her drifted the soft sounds of breathing and semiconscious snuffles. Sakura pulled an IV drip bag closer, tilted it towards the room's small window and squinted to read the composition and fill line. In a hospital one of the less experienced nurses would help with these tasks, but they were 150 km from the nearest village large enough for a hospital. She'd mixed each IV solution, filled, and marked them herself. Sakura thought it was damn lucky she restocked her sealed supplies two weeks before. This was her first stop and the flare up of illness had taken out the entire building's staff.

She stood between two beds so close they brushed her legs and she had to shuffle sideways to reach a green glowing hand to their feverish foreheads. One had reached 40 C, it'd be concerning for a ninja, and was dangerously high for this civilian untrained in chakra circulation. Sakura bent over the woman, her jutsu shifting to lower the heat production and burn out the excess energy at a less damaging frequency. Sakura stayed there, brows bent together in concentration until the woman's fever was brought down to 38 C. Low enough for the body's process to heal itself.

Her mission gear hung much lighter than her old medic skirt. This one had been redesigned by ANBU during the war. Sealed and multi-compartment pant pockets, and hidden pockets inside the slim armored vest, all of them sealed with her own chakra signature. To get her scrolls or supplies they'd need to convince her to do it herself.

A fate she'd heard saved many secrets, even if it hadn't saved their Konoha ANBU. Stone in particular had a nasty streak of disappearing their numbers. While Iwagakure and Konohagakure always had their differences, recently their ANBU and Jōnin dropped out of communication when crossing into Iwa. Assumed dead, no note sent or body recovered. All their ANBU uniform contents lost to interdimensional space when their signature faded, their chakra transformed to natural energy for the last time.

Iwa, even more than Konoha, was struggling. They couldn't afford a war but couldn't afford to look weak either. It was a long-standing animosity which both sides kept provoking. Sakura secretly thought if they'd just stop sending their people to Iwa, then Iwa wouldn't retaliate. They could thrive if they spent as many people on diplomacy and trade agreements as they did on intelligence.

Unfortunately, Sakura wasn't paid as a strategist. She was only a medic picking up the pieces. From plans which had a certain percentage of guaranteed failure. More nin were dispatched because some wouldn't return. This was known, anticipated. Sakura hadn't been able to quantify it before, but now she was personally tasked as back up on those missions.

So yes, the sealed pockets were an improvement. She just had to make sure to never get caught. To always keep her armor on. Stay equipped even during innocuous missions in case she got caught. Be underestimated. She had an advantage as long as they mistook her for someone less accomplished. It was in her best interest to never be recognized as the medic nin who could break mountains and rebuild a person's body. If she did something truly remarkable she had to mask it as mundane. Easy enough as most people couldn't differentiate between her favorite techniques.

Sakura left her patients to sleep. They'd wake up soon enough and she'd have to check them then. Water ran cool over her hands as she washed them. The water closet was a hole in the wall with a door, available for guests to use if they really needed a place to go, but not cozy enough to encourage lingering. Sakura grabbed her water and put lotion on her too-many times washed hands. Her entire bathroom had been put in her personal use compartment, everything besides the toilet and bath hardware. It was a luxury she indulged. She loved the smell, the feel of soft hands. The bottle fit right back in her pocket as if it'd never been there.

Sakura slipped from the room in search of fresh air. Of all the brothels on the border of Fire Country this one was large and had apparently been heavily trafficked since the 2nd Shinobi war. She walked through the crowded hallway, one of the busiest brothels in the region, and no one recognized who or what she was.

Not even Kiba's cousin who was at this moment leading an androgynous staff member into a room down the hallway, the Inuzuka chatted and twirled a kunai in an attempt at cool. Inuzuka looked right at her. Nothing. No recognition of Haruno Sakura who'd been at their clan block party last month. The water bottle in her hands had moisture from air cooling on its outer surface. She guzzled the water and side-stepped a nin fondling a woman. They hadn't made it to their room and quite possibly wouldn't. The nin glanced at Sakura and his eyes slid right over her, disinterested.

She didn't look like Tsunade's apprentice. She didn't look like a Konoha medic in the rural countryside. It'd been years since she wore a medic nin skirt. Under her henge the only indication she was a medic was a small cross insignia tattooed above the ANBU Swirl on her shoulder. Both tattoos and her ANBU uniform were well hidden. Her appearance of an unassuming, brown haired, dark eyed medic in travel nurse clothes.

An unremarkable woman visiting Jiraiya's same travel destinations. Unlike the legendary author she switched her appearance every stop. Their contacts knew when a female traveling medic came by, they should drop their scrolls in her locked donation tin. It was painted red, the barest nod at their Konoha allegiance. Most who put money in there were just so thankful they'd met a medic in their border hamlets. Few had anything more than a practicing clinician without her variety of supplies or depth of training. Sakura hadn't anticipated being given so much money, but she accepted it with honest thanks. Konoha, for all appearances, was much poorer than it'd been.

Any extra she happened to make went to the Konoha Orphan Fund. Each month when she saw the kids she had scrolls and scrolls full of new clothes and preserved vegetables merchants and farmers traded for her service. It was a good disguise and the kids got the benefit of getting something at every birthday.

The chatty little buggers had a tendency of swarming her. Shouting, "Sakura, Sakura!" Before proceeding to rush through story after story of what they'd done that week. And "Aren't you proud of me?" They'd ask her.

"Of course I am," She'd always smile and tussle their hair.

The smaller ones clung to her legs when she visited. Hoping for and receiving hugs and contact. They were a jubilant bunch. So happy and easy to smile at the smallest things she brought them or the way she taught those gifted with natural control how to heal their own scrapes and bruises.

They warmed her heart. The same contentment she got when she visited one of Jiraiya's contacts for the first time and offered them free medical treatment for their family after the meeting. The look of surprise, then the happiness. It's contagious. Just like the women and men of this night den when they croaked excited greetings to her. This is what she lived for, despite the good natured ribbing from most of her friends.

Tenten and Lee were exuberant when Sakura up and quit the hospital, taking more and more specialized assignments, and giving them an extra sparring partner to test out the new training field they'd built outside their house. The three kids they'd adopted already running around in green spandex and brandishing kunai in the dozens. They were going to be the terrors of their academy class, once they were old enough to see over the registration desk.

She chuckled at the image of the green beast clan. A family of love, determination, and spirited euphemisms. Her chuckle turned sadistic as she remembered the uptight Uchiha and Hyuuga clans just bought up land on either side of Lee's training field.

Sakura had been taking advantage of their request for a training partner. She'd gotten faster and expanded her style. Their taijutsu and weapons practice took it up a notch since she'd been officially offered a tiger mask and uniform.

She wouldn't ever have a white cloak as she rotated between teams and information gathering rosters as needed. Naruto dubbed her "a walking hospital" to be sent out accordingly. The sort of missions which might have lost people their limbs or not left anything at all if she hadn't shown up. The constant stream of work challenged and engaged her. ANBU seemed to have some fire every other month needing to be put out. It was exhilarating.

Around her the brothel was still busy, despite so many staff members being unwell. Its crowd and entertainment hadn't diminished. The bar and lounge below had loud strumming music and a live performance from a visiting band. Their location on the coast overlooked the beautiful remnants of Uzushiogakure. The nearby resort designed as a gambling house. Both buildings had been severely damaged during Iwa's final invasion of Uzushiogakure. The entire sea facing wall of this brothel had to be rebuilt.

From deep dark wood and aged fixtures to lighter, fresher paints and stains. A notable change in building materials as she walked to the end of the hall. It ended in a wide third floor balcony. The wind and mist from the ocean hit her. Heavy with salt and little creatures and all manner of things she never saw in the deeper forests.

Her informant, even while holding a fever and coughing had handed over the scroll of secrets. Secrets written down and sealed away with a pre-prepped seals team. Scrolls she sometimes volunteered to help make when Konoha is running low and can't feed 78 orphans let alone purchase prohibitively expensive pre-prepped seal work.

She knew just enough about seals to know when an array is triggered and that a tri-gram really shouldn't be structured like that. Only problem with arrays is that the pros make them invisible until you apply chakra for reading or triggering. A sturdy seal would never trigger without intention. She'd worked on hundreds of them. Naruto taught her everything he'd discovered, even if she didn't get as much time to practice as she'd like. At least her writing and designs were no longer shaky.

Here Sakura was standing on the balcony. The reused wood from the buildings' reconstruction had been popping out so she reached back and used the barest bit of chakra to push it back in, fixing the draft it had been drawing through the newest outer wall.

She felt the familiar awakening of an array. A familiar feeling only this one rubbed at her chakra, shaky, sharp, and pointed. She'd never felt one so unstable. Sakura whipped her head around, attempting to remove her hand from the seal. Only to her horror it came away and stuck to the back of her wrist like a living leech.

"What the-"

The balcony disappeared around her. For a moment so did the air and whatever in-between place it took her to was insanely cold. If it wasn't for her creation rebirth jutsu she wouldn't have survived.

The air came back. The lights came back. Lights which hadn't been there on the balcony. Only she wasn't on a balcony anymore. Around her the room formed, or maybe it was her who formed. The interdimensional space spit her out and she stumbled and used chakra to stick her breakneck landing.

The smell of perfume and musk heavy in the air. The large bed disturbed. Pillows and blankets discarded on the floor. The same fabric pattern of the brothel she'd left.

Only this one's walls are built differently. Her eyes shot to the familiar spiked white hair of a huge man. A man currently drooling on himself, a smile on his sleeping face, and the very picture of satisfaction. His shoulders weren't nearly as wide or muscled as he'd been at his death. His wide hand rested on a large, almost Tsunade sized breast.

She took in the breathing and clearly alive spy master, then his companions. Jiraiya cozy and passed out between a pair of blondes. Smoke drifted from the other end of the room.

She felt the shift in chakra as it locked around her and held her in place. A similar feeling to the Nara's jutsu, but not using shadows. Her feet were stuck to the floor, her henge stripped from her face. The disguise seals on the ANBU armor fought whatever was attacking them. They won for the moment, but they were draining her. Her throat flexed, her arms and legs utterly locked and immobile.

Sakura's eyes found the broad and bare chested man who trapped her. He reclined on a luxurious couch, legs spread, and naked. The way his wild steel grey hair hung was somehow familiar to her. Next to him a woman slept. Her body marked with love bites and looking as if they hadn't bothered to clean up after sex.

In her time this wasn't a room but a balcony overlooking the Uzumaki sea and islands. This version of the brothel didn't have a balcony. It didn't exist yet. Yet. Damn.

He looked her over. She felt Tsunade's jutsu as it stripped from her face, the edges of her armor's seal powered appearance beginning to fade just the barest at the edges as her chakra fought to keep it powered against the drain. He watched it. Then those dark eyes drifted to her face, taking in the hair she'd braided and trapped with spikes.

"You look expensive."

Her cheeks tinged. Her fury got the better of her.

"Not going to happen Hatake."

Because that's what he was. There was only one family which glowed white chakra. She looked over, the image of a drunk, passed out, but very alive spy master told her more than enough. She was utterly and royally fucked. The landscape showcased by grand window showed just how different this place was. It's angular shape of the shore. The presence of large trading vessels.

The fact this room hadn't yet been destroyed by the final attack against Uzushiokure meant she had arrived before Uzu's last remnants we're killed off. Sakura wondered how much she'd already changed. Her presence here.

"No? Not even for Konoha's White Fang?"

She stiffened. His hair is the wrong color. It sticks up, but in a mane, not like her sensei's did. The woman sleeping next to him, now she looked like Kakashi. The same pale and sharp cheekbones, slender build, silver hair the exact same shade and texture of her sensei's. This was Kakashi's mother. He never had spoken about her. Sakura wondered what happened. She'd never imagined this. It wasn't exactly the picture of domestic bliss.

They were ninja. This, she realized, was more realistic than the kunoichi mother she'd always assumed. Kakashi being what he was, capable as he was, he must have gotten the genes and training from somewhere.

Whatever jutsu he used to lock her in also cut major chakra pathways. Her severed connection to her forehead chakra storage and her loss of henge left strands of pink hair laying across her vision. His eyes lingered on her headband. The man grabbed a pipe that'd been laying on the table, took a lazy puff.

Then through the smoke asked, "So Konoha Kunoichi."

His words made her start. Her neck shifted and jerked against immovable shoulders.

"How is it you were promoted from Chūnin, then again through Tokubetsu and into ANBU without meeting the Jōnin Hanchō?"

She looked from Kakashi's mother to him, shock and dawning anxiety gripped her.

"You're the Jōnin Commander."

"Hm," He agreed.

Lazy, watchful, certain he had her in a tidy trap. He did, she realized. The seal she'd accidentally triggered still glowed and shakily thrummed where it clung around her wrist. Other seals, just as shaky she could feel had been activated around the room. They look like some amateur tried to silence the space and keep everything within contained here.

It was shoddy work. But in essence functioned. They were trapped within. All ANBU now had training on area lock seals. They couldn't afford another Orochimaru locking up their kage. The seals she saw active here would be comparatively simple to break. The man in front of her the only real obstacle.

She wondered how many people it'd kill or save if she paralyzed him with a chakra scalpel. She didn't delude herself with the notion she could harmlessly incapacitate him. He'd just come after her. Fighting a nin with techniques like this would be a fatal match. She didn't want to do it more than once.

Hatake raised the pipe. Wide lips surrounded by morning scruff, he sucked on the end and gently released the glass. Flower smelling smoke pervaded and wrapped around them as it drifted up. It wasn't tobacco but something sweeter, softer. It invaded and wrapped around her frozen form. The room felt smaller as she prepared for the fight of her life.

He remained seated. Leaned backwards till arms hung over the spine of that red couch. Tan legs bent before him. He watched her, while utterly starkers, and apparently unbothered she was considering escape.

She had seen many naked people. This, it was calculated. Maybe to make her angry, as his comment had earlier. Maybe to intimidate her into talking. As if to show there wasn't anything she could do. It succeeded in making her angry, if that's what he wanted. Flinty eyes stared straight back.

"Kunoichi. Pink hair, green eyes, no henge layering, extremely obvious thought pattern, you must be a Haruno."

She was going to kill Naruto for sending her on this mission. Hokage or not if she ever got back to her time, her reality she thought with a fast beating heart, she'd punch her old teammate out of his cherished tower.

He looked down her body, "ANBU storage seals on the side of the standard issue pants. Now that's not something we've thought of. Wouldn't even be approved before our man here improves his techniques. As you can see some of the seal work is still smudged and deviates. You're here after all."

Hatake was much too observant. She wanted to punch him too. Her shishō's strong personality traits were something Sakura had more and more understanding of as she aged in a male dominant profession.

They were all so damn full of their own dangling bits and positions. Cocky, slightly dismissive. She was ANBU and he was dismissing her as a threat. Or, she realized somewhat late, trying to stall her while his cage jutsu finished draining her chakra.

Damn her, but he succeeded. She was just so angry. He'd already compared her to a sex worker once tonight. You look expensive, he'd said. Her blood still boiled. Even seeing his game didn't mean she could control it.

"Where I come from the Jōnin Commander would be strung up for making these sort of statements."

Shikamaru couldn't afford to be dismissive of women or anyone gender neutral anymore. He'd be poisoned by Shizune. By his flower cultivating and torture specialist teammate. By his own life partner. By said partner's liberal Kazekage of a brother. Shikamaru couldn't afford to be so blatantly prejudiced. It just wasn't cool to be degrading anymore.

Yet her reality wasn't here and now. She slowly unclenched her fists. She had been about to break the floor, break his face, and get away knowing little baby Kakashi would tragically be born without his father. Yet her shishō had also taught her good sense and strategic timing. The rules any good kage needed when dealing with a frustrating adversary.

Note:

Serious topics are hard for people to face upfront. I've found it easier to read about them. Interspersed with amusing twists on an utterly normal occurrence, a satire strives to make us all think. It adds ridiculous moments in serious situations. It poses questions a militaristic and oppressive government would rather us not ask.

It takes characters with sometimes annoying character traits and turns them into antiheroes. The characters are not perfect, but they are modeled after real people with real struggles. Love them or hate them, that's your choice. In the same vein that "Inglorious Bastards" is a satire with a love story at its core. This story takes people who would have died alone and instead gives them another option. Our cast is emerging from a harsh, sometimes toxic environment. Considering this, the characters must change and grow. They become better people. They find their own hearts and passions. Discover their own roles in society, despite what is traditionally expected.

I hope you enjoy the silly journey as much as I do. This romantic satire is meant to fuel discussion. So go forth and have original thoughts. I look forward to reading your original stories covering similar topics. Seriously, PM me and I'll read your story!

Much Love,

Mellyrian

Tags:

Sakura and Sakumo Are Bringing Cooperative Democracy to the Elemental Nations, in the Silliest and Most Unlikely Way Possible,

How to Make Friends and Stop Stealing Shit from Your Neighbors,

Killing children and civilians is wrong-Always, Never Support a Genocide (in case your government has lost its mind, I'm sorry and wish you safe while you push back on this),

Learning to Respect Others, Recovering Assholes From The Brink of Misogyny,

They Get Paid to Kill People But Find Another Way,

Seeking Peace,

Brothels, Unapologetic Adult Themes, Questionable Morals,

The White Fang Would Totally Marry a Dominatrix if She Was Into That,

Sakura Likes a Challenge, Fighters to Lovers,

We're All Inglorious Bastards

BAMF Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura-centric, Strong Female Characters, POV Haruno Sakura, ANBU Haruno Sakura, Hatake Sakumo Lives, POV Hatake Sakumo, Good Parent Hatake Sakumo, Hokage Jiraiya (Naruto)

Content Warning:

Threats, Aggression, Violence, Restraint, and Physical Tying Up of Enemy Shinobi