The Yin and the Yang

by lilac haze

AU. Non-canon. Modern setting. ER Doctor Sakura Haruno. Subjectively speaking, Minato Namikaze is bad at his mystery job. Age gap less than five years. MinaSaku. In which two strangers learn to find balance not only within themselves but each other and all the struggles that come along the way give one major event that was lead up by thousands of tiny decisions and steps.

9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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Chapter 9

"Did you know about this?" It felt stupid to ask, she felt stupid for asking but she wanted something. She was after something: honesty. His. So she asked with trepidation on her face and uncertainty fluctuating the pitch and smoothness of her vocal chords.

"Yes," he did not try to deny it as he sat across from her with his plate empty save a few crumby remnants of his breakfast sandwich and his second half-finished cup of coffee.

Her foot bounced up and down on its toes; the anxious motions were enough to impact the stability of the table. Neither brought attention to the fact.

"Did you have a hand in it?" Sakura scrunched her hair gathered in a bun. She was not like him. She could not listen intently with so much patience. She needed to move. She needed an outlet. She was seconds removed from pacing.

"I did," Minato answered, unphased.

And that bothered her. "Does he," she racked her brain trying to recall the name she had read in a sleep-deprived, exhausted haze - not fully convinced she was lucid. But the brain could not think up faces. So it was not a dream; because she remembered his face. Vividly. "Does-"

"Haruto Nara," Minato supplied and in any other circumstance she would have found it helpful.

"Does Haruto know that he's facing fourteen years in prison for possession and discharge of a firearm?" Assuming there were no other charges that the DA tacked on. She pressed her fingertips until they were nearly numb. Her elbows were bent on the table, folded inwards.

"Up to fourteen," Minato leaned back in his chair. He regarded the blue block letters on her oven with flat eyes. It was six in the morning. She supposed he would much rather be in bed still. His appearance was disheveled. Hair was even more shaggy and uncooperative than usual. He did not even bother to zip up his black fleece hoodie. The white corner of the small rectangular adhesive bandage popped against all the darkness it surrounded. "Up to fourteen. He'll get a generous plea deal. His clan-appointed lawyer is a good one." He too was a shark. Once he smelled blood, it was over. "He'll get at most five years and be out in two years for good behavior."

Oh good. You have it all figured out.

There was so much in his limited words that she could not substantiate. How fourteen got slashed to five only to end up being two - the math was beyond her. Minato's nonchalance did not sit right with her. At all. It felt routine - procedural. Like it was just another day for him and it very might well be. She did not like being reminded - having it thrown in her face - that she did not know things about him. Maybe it was more accurate to say she knew something - very limited things - about him because the unknowns seemed to outnumber the known. At least two to one.

"Is he married? Does he have a family? Elderly parents?" She leaned forward, hands folded not in prayer or plea. Fingers pressing against her knuckles. They each had an assignment, to keep each other contained. She kept her eyes on his hands: one curled around the handle of his mug and the other flat on the table. They were clean physically but her mind wondered just how dirty they were under the surface after tinkering with all the things she did not see nor understand.

Do you know? Do you even care to?

"He has a wife and son. His parents passed away years ago. Peacefully. His son's eight." He provided information. He seemed to have answers for everything. Even questions she did not get the chance to formalize and ask. "They will be taken care of."

I'll take care of it.

A variation of what he said to her. It clicked. Sakura stiffened. Her eyes snapped up to his. Watching and waiting. Calculating. He always thought before he spoke. Unlike her.

He's not ruled by his emotions. Calm, he controls the room. He controls the situation.

That fact was not lost on her despite her being the one to ask questions.

"What does that mean?" She asked slowly in an amateur attempt to replicate his demeanor. "They will be taken care of," she parroted his words back to him, unable to make them her own.

"It means," Minato exhaled a breath. She saw indecision mar his symmetrical features for a split-second - a small crack in otherwise a steeled exterior. Detached. "This is how the Clan operates. Nara - Haruto - is a low earner. The Clan offered him more than double what he made last year and was on track for this year for the next two years. His family is properly compensated."

How? How can you say that so easily?

"Money isn't everything," she compounded her self-righteousness with indignation at the lack of his, overcompensating. "His son, and his wife, are going to miss two years with him. Two whole years, Minato."

"I am aware."

She narrowed her eyes at his dismissiveness, empty-handed for anything that would give him the benefit of the doubt. "Are you?" She bit out before thinking it through as usual. She was quick to fall back into old patterns. "You called him a good man - a decent man - yourself." Decency was probably what sealed his fate to his label: low earner. Not everyone was self-motivated and self-disciplined. Not everyone could be their own boss or find niches to carve out opportunities with the Big Boss's blessing and support.

Your surrogate father figure backs you just like Sasuke's backs him. You have to see that. You see that right?

"It's done," his tone was stern, just avoiding the edge where it would cross over into scolding. Patronizing. "This is just how the Clan operates. He had a choice. He was given an option. He chose to elect it."

Some choice.

"Is that how you operate?" She asked with a low hum, agitated with beating around the bush. The heart of the matter remained. "Is this how you operate, Minato? Since you make more, your freedom is more important than someone who makes less?" The fire - the anger - in her belly spoke for her - through her, bleeding into her words; coating them.

"Sakura," he was frowning. He lifted his hand with clear intent she recognized, Sakura moved hers away - back towards herself. The hurt that flashed in his eyes momentarily sent a trickle of guilt through her gut. It would build. But right now she could pretend not to notice it. It was small enough. "He's a person. He has a life. He has a family. Do you think for a moment that if there was another way I wouldn't have pursued the path?"

Why are you okay with having someone else answer for your actions?

"Why isn't it you?" She pressed without entirely being sure to whom the question was directed towards. Her or him.

"I can't go away right now. Not with you being in danger."

So I'm the reason then?

"I never asked you to do any of this!" She threw up her hands, sitting up in her chair. Posture as rigid as her stance, defiant and confrontational. "Don't put this on me. Don't blame me!" She did not need help in this department. At all.

"I'm not blaming you," he said calmly, not reacting to her projected outburst. His face pulled together in what could be in disappointment if she was slightly less charged - if she was seeing things even a diopter more clearly for how they were in actuality and not in her head. "You asked for a reason - my reason - and I gave it to you," he said matter-of-factly in a voice that never fluctuated even once.

You're using me as an excuse…as a way out of taking accountability!

Her fingers clenched around each other. His eyes caught the movement. Like a bird of prey, he saw everything.

"You said I was safe," she lowered herself back down, all at once. The chair groaned against the kitchen floor. It was not an accusation but it came out sounding that way. Even if the heat of her flame was no longer charring the edges of her words.

I visited Mom. Hiro and Ino were here….

"For now," Minato sighed, running a hand through his hair. The coffee on his tongue was stale and bitter. She was safe for now as he said. But once the Uchiha handed in their fall men, it was open season on Sakura if one of them was not Masanori.

"You said that samples go missing…cases get thrown." The swallow was painful. The cost of free breathes was steep. She could not believe what she was about to say. "You were willing to do that for me. Why not for Haruto Nara? For his family. Can't you do something?" She asked him earnestly.

Can't you at least try?

For the longest time, only his stoic mask was her answer. He was studying her every bit as she was studying him. She wondered if his notes, his translation guide were more thorough or accurate than hers. Did he see the irony of her request? Did he think of her as a hypocrite? Was he simply too kind to tell her to get over it? Wake up kid, this is the real world kind of a moment - a harsh lesson on the state of reality.

"I'll look into it," he said at last.

She nodded her head, she did not have it in her to ask for clarification. She did not want to know. Sakura pushed back her chair, the legs scraped against the linoleum, screeching; rising to clear the table and wash the dishes. The hot water barely registered on her skin. But she was not too forgone to hear him pad away from the kitchen. Ceramic left on a gray mat on white marble.

An upholding of created space.

---

"This is cute," she pulled a hanger with a dangling dress from the rack. Gold. Short. Lined with sequences. The back was completely missing. Stunning.

"Where would you even wear it?" Sakura asked, only sparing it a glance. "Seems a little much for dinner even for you," she moved velvet hangers from right to left with a disinterested hand. Her green eyes peered over the metal clothing rack at the light foot traffic on the street. They were in the fashion district in Yuma. A necessity. Ino had reached the end of her understanding window and Sakura had jumped at the excuse. She told herself it was because she did not know when the opportunity would present itself to her again after things finished "publically sorting" themselves out. Also, she needed to buy a gift exchange present. Life - normalcy - had to start up again at some point.

"I was thinking for you," Ino tilted her head as she regarded the dress. "But now that you mention it, you don't have enough going on to fill it out in the front."

"I thought we were looking at coats. How did we end up in the dresses section?" Sakura's question was nearly carried off by her distractedness.

"What happened to your brown one? You had it for less than two months. What the hell did you do to it?" Ino shot back, tone clipping with huffy exasperation.

I got blood all over it.

And even if it had been dry cleaned - twice - she could not bring herself to wear it. Not with the eyes on her and not with the memories dyed into the soft wool. It was too bad. She really did like that coat.

If Mom ever went outside she could make use of it.

"I must have left it on the train," Sakura lied, not without guilt.

"I finally convince you to spend money on something and you go and lose it!" Ino threw her hands up in dramatic fashion. She was a theater kid growing up. And a ballerina so the flare of the dramatics was part of her DNA. The many distractions during childhood keep the loneliness of being an only child in the home at bay. "You are a child. You are so irresponsible. You are…."

Sakura stopped listening to Ino air out her list of lengthy grievances. She had started and she could sustain the so-called conversation by herself for hours, with no additional effort needed from her beyond her physical presence. Sakura adjusted the black bag on her shoulder - the one with scrape marks on the bottom and sides from where she dragged it against the concrete subway floors. They were tucked against her away from Ino's watchful gaze. Sakura did not want to give the woman an opportunity to gift her an expensive bag out of the goodness of her own heart - or to make space for a higher-end classic. Ino called it "being good" where she patted herself on the back for not giving into a whim, never mind the fact it was the only one out of ten that the statement held true for.

Green eyes clashed with a pair of gray of the saleswoman who had an expensive silk scarf around her neck. The woman's painted red lips pulled into a polite, friendly, professional smile. Sakura averted her gaze, ducking her head to pretend to inspect a sheer garment that was too long to be a shirt but too short to be a dress.

Can I be any more suspicious? She's going to think that I'm stealing!

But that was only the surface level of her anxiety. What if this building - this strip mall - was owned by the Uchiha? What if the woman herself was part of the Akatsuki? Her long jacket covered her arms completely. The fact had her palms sweaty, never mind the fact that it was the dead of winter. A sharp pain registered in her side. Sakura whirled around breath hitching and heart stammering. Her wide green eyes landed on Ino's completely unamused face.

"You know when you finally agreed to go to lunch and some light shopping with me, I thought you would be more involved in the process, Forehead. What the hell is the matter with you?" Ino's arms were crossed over her plaid tweed jacket that matched her mini-skirt. She looked more like a Barbie doll than Barbie herself. She was perfect. And frowning at her severely.

"I'm fine," Sakura said for the umpteenth time, and despite the repetition, it was no more believable than all the previous utterances.

Ino's hands were secure around her hips. She glared over Sakura's shoulder. The scurrying of high heels gave Sakura all the information she needed. Ino scared off the sales lady who had been sniffing around for her potential sales commission. There was no way she was Akatsuki. On the other hand, if she was…what did that say about Ino?

Ino would run a whole division. She'd be terrifyingly good at it.

Maybe Minato can add luxury goods to his inventory of offerings.

"That's it!" With a bruising grip, Ino clamped down on Sakura's elbow. The platinum blond stomped her stiletto-clad feet, dragging Sakura with her. Her baby-blue eyes were narrowed and her nostrils were flared. Pissed. She was pissed.

Let it be quick. Please, Universe!

"Ino," she began to protest weakly, meekly. But her voice never stood a chance against the leaves rustling in the wind both in the trees and the ones curled and brown underfoot, the click-clack of Ino's heels, and the idle chit-chat of the faces they passed. The woman continued her charge and Sakura had no choice but to comply.

The bridal store, the jewelry store, the macaron store, even Konan's third display-only boutique, they moved by each one without consideration of the careful displays in the painted dark-green brick store-fronts. Her arm had gone numb from lack of circulation. Ino released her. She wore a large smile that was painfully artificial. Sakura began to rub away the sting from her elbow.

"Hi!" Ino sang brightly in a voice two octaves higher than usual and nasal sounding. "Two hot fudge sundaes, please. Extra whipped cream. Like a mount of the stuff. And chocolate sauce and sprinkles. On second thought, just fill the container for a single scoop with whipped cream. And two cherries on top, each."

The man with a white paper hat on his head looked at Ino funny. Sakura tried to cover her face with her hands, mortified.

"Did you get all that?" Ino blinked impassively, not understanding the issue. She tapped her black credit card on the beige-tiled order window. The grout was a light pink.

"Ma'am," the man - Daichi, if his nametag was anything to go off of - pointed a thick finger behind the blond. "There is a line."

Ino turned her head, eyes flat at the various looks and murmurs being targeted in their directions. Less than five people because it was the middle of the day in the middle of winter. The platinum blonde faced Daichi, impatient and with a huff. "I'll pay for all theirs. Just make ours first," she said loudly to which Sakura groaned. "Anyone have a problem with that?" She called out over her shoulder. She grinned haughtily when not a peep of dissent graced her ears. She slid the card over the window with a perfectly manicured hand that was free of her wool gloves that hung from her purse. "Extra whipped cream," she reminded him, tone grave with seriousness.

Daichi rolled his dark eyes heavenward before he muttered "I hate rich people," not so quietly under his breath. Sakura smiled timidly - not making eye contact - apologetically as she followed after Ino who had stalked off to find a table that met her standards, with a fist full of napkins shoved into the pockets of her red peacoat.

xXx

"You're certifiable," Sakura glared at her over the large mound of whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate sauce, and two cherries. She shoved a spoonful of it into her mouth - expanding her cheeks like a squirrel.

"What?" Ino asked her in a bored manner, unabashed by what just happened minutes prior.

"You know what!" Her best friend hissed.

"You're still on that? You left a fat tip and in cash too. Daiki's totally over it." Baby-blue eyes moved from head to torso. "Unlike you," she gestured vaguely in Sakura's general direction. "You're upset. So stuff your face and spill your guts. You know you want to." Ino pressed her lips together in judgment for a moment. "Is it about your mom again?"

"Daichi, the guy's name was Daichi," Sakura corrected in what was a lost cause. Sakura swallowed another spoonful knowing that Ino was watching and labeling. Psychoanalyzing. Sakura opened her mouth. "Do you think I'm reactionary?" She asked in what was a foolish endeavor judging from the vacant eyes Ino regarded her with. "Pig?"

"Do you want the real answer or judgment-free support of your delusions?" The woman's clarifying question was more rhetorical than implied.

Thanks, Ino. Kick me while I'm down.

Sakura slumped back in her seat - her moodiness grew. She idly dug her heel into the concrete, pulverizing nothing into even more nothing. The metal chair was as uncomfortable as it was cold. Maybe her body was growing soft, pampered by her couch.

"In your defense, Mebuki does know exactly what buttons to press," Ino lowered her chin onto the back of her hand, her fingers curled into a loose fist. Relaxed. "She's not shy about it either. And anger is a secondary emotion. In your case, with your mom, it's rooted in years and years of her not respecting your boundaries or listening to you."

True but Mom's not the one I keep going off on.

"...and you're a people pleaser, not that you want to hear it from me. You bend yourself over backwards to make your mom happy which I don't think is possible because she refuses to process her trauma. If anyone shows you a modicum of kindness you latch on to them, putting their needs in front of your own. When Iruka broke his arm you drove him and from work every day - a whole twenty minutes out of your way - never mind the fact that he still had one perfectly good arm, all because he would bring you sandwiches from the vending machine when the ER got too crazy for you to step away from. And you're not even listening to me," Ino complained, eyeing the sundae in front of her. She chose not to engage with the intrusive thought that said to flung some whipped cream right at Sakura's face. That would surely get her attention. Good or bad. Instead, she waved her hand in front of Sakura. The charms on her bracelet - Sakura's gift to her after they were placed in the same hospital for their residency - jingled softly just as the pinkette blinked to.

"Sakura," Ino sighed, fixing the placement of the charms - correcting their outward orientation - to gather more patience and presumably understanding. "What's going on?"

Sakura raised her eyes until they were captured by a pair of baby blues - as expansive as a cloudless summer sky. "It's a lot," she warned halfheartedly, doing her best to provide an out even if all it was was a small sliver of window.

"So am I," Ino rolled her eyes with impatience that was not befitting a woman in her line of business. "Before I'm thirty, Sakura." Ino waved her hand hastily beckoning Sakura to pick up the pace. "Okay before I look it," Ino corrected at the deadpan stare being directed back at her.

Sakura inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with as much air as she could. Her mouth started to move. It did not stop moving even when Ino's jaw was unlatched and the maliciously compliant request for extra whipped cream all slid off her untouched sundae and dripped onto the concrete through the metal table grates.

"Ino?" Sakura called out her friend's name while dabbing the corner of her mouth for the sticky, sweet chocolate syrup that had collected here, with a wrinkly pulled out of her pocket napkin. "Are you alright?"

"You were interrogated?" Ino blinked. Rapidly. Excessively.

Sakura nodded her head, miserable. "They searched the clinic."

"They searched the clinic?" She repeated, outrage held back by a hair. The blonde leaned closer, her eyes scanning. Her voice was low. "Are you alright?"

No. And things have been weird…tense with Minato. I have no idea what to do there.

"Traumatized I think. It still doesn't feel completely real sometimes," Sakura admitted with a sigh. "It's a good thing you called to suggest-," threaten coming over, "-a meetup. I needed to get out of the apartment." She needed to get away from Minato. He clouded her judgment. It was terrifying just how much. She had not thought twice about lying to the police about him. Hell, not even once. It was her initial - instinctual - reaction.

"But they got the guy right?" Ino pressed, her hand reached over and around the sticky mess to find Sakura's.

I got the guy. He's in my house. He was reading Sumida when I left. The depressing ones. The ones from my collection. Being really subtle about it too.

Brooding. Minato was the silent brooding type it seemed. Her pride would not allow her to be the one to bring it up first.

"One of them. He turned himself in," she sighed wearily, tired of maintaining two conversation streams.

"I had no idea," Ino made a sympathetic sound. "Do you want to stay with me? Or I can stay over," she offered selflessly. It must really be a pitiful situation if Ino offered willingly - unprompted - to stay in Tani overnight. She claimed the water was radio-active and would wreak havoc on her hair and skin - aging her decades. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

He's there. Just there.

"I didn't know what to do. It all kind of happened and honestly, I'm glad I didn't drag you in with me," she smiled, twisting up inside knowing it was all a lie. She was trying so hard to pretend not to notice the silver-colored car across the street. A dark hood was pulled over bright red hair. "I'm okay," she said convincingly as she patted the back of her friend's hand.

"God," Ino crossed her arms over her chest. "And on top of it all Sasuke turned out to be an asshole?"

"The biggest," Sakura tapped her plastic spoon against her empty sundae cup. She coaxed Ino's untouched one closer to her, picking up the rate at which she pulled at the lack of protest from her companion. Sakura dug into the ice cream that had not melted given the cold.

"It's always the hot ones," Ino uttered sagely, betrayed. "No wonder you're no closer to coming back to work. What a nightmare. Can you imagine what people would have said if they served you the warrant at work?" Ino shook her head, pushing away a scenario that was too much - even for her. "There'd be no coming back from that."

"Tell me about it," Sakura grumbled, stuffing her mouth with a scowl, not even tasting the sweet treat. "He probably would have gotten a kick out of it."

"You should call Hatake," Ino stated without warning or shame. "It's the only thing he's good for."

Sakura coughed, hands plucking more of the napkins out of her pocket to slap across her mouth in a preventive measure to keep ice cream splatter from becoming airborne. A rectangular sprinkle stuck to the back of her throat, irritating it further.

"What the hell Pig?" She glared at her friend when her fit subsided. Her voice was raspy. Her throat hurt. Her eyes were watering and her face was red. Her life had all but flashed across her eyes. "That's not the answer to everything!"

"To this it is," Ino said with a frown, voice level, and expression of no-nonsense. "You just need some extra attention right now and you'll be right as rain. You know, get all of this out of your head even if only for a while."

"Is that what you tell your patients? Is this Dr. Yamanaka's professional advice? Get laid." Sakura asked with a snort. She pushed the sundae to the side, losing her appetite. "You're ripping them off," she mumbled unintelligibly under her breath because it made her feel better - marginally.

I'm good thanks. The last thing I need is a cop sniffing around me. Another one, I mean.

"Sometimes," Ino answered with a shrug, shameless - she would argue mature - in the wake of Sakura's reaction. "Why are you so bent out of shape anyway?" Ino asked, voice dipping as it filled with suspicion. "Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not!" Sakura said in a squeaking voice that was defensive. Even she could not argue the contrary. "I'm having a completely normal reaction to your comment."

"Right," Ino rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a stark lack of conviction. Sarcastic and biting as the rest of her. "You wouldn't know normal if it smacked you across the face." She sighed, picking at the insides of her nails for what was not there. "Are you still brooding about tall, blond, and handsome?" She asked innocently in contrast to the sharpness in her eyes.

Yes. Pathetically yes. I wish the name Haruto Nara meant nothing to me. Things were good before then…before Detective-Stick-Up-His-Ass.

Sakura bit the inside of her cheek until her left eye twitched which defeated the whole point of donning a poker face.

"Forehead," Ino groaned, throwing her beautifully done face in her hands. "You're hopeless," her voice was muffled but still coherent.

"I know," she could not fight the accusation - the judgment, the shame. "I'm bad at letting go. I'm bad at communicating. I'm bad at listening. I'm bad at being tranquil and mature and understanding. I'm bad at being open-minded. I'm bad at this."

I don't know how to go back.

"Forehead," Ino growled out but her voice softened toward the latter half of the word. "You are. You definitely are bad at a lot of things." Ino squeezed her fingers, earning herself a small smile. "But you're also really good at a lot of things. More things."

"Like?" Sakura asked with warmth coating her stomach, canceling out the chill in the air and her cold fingers.

"You're a good friend," Ino said with openness. "A really good friend. I should know because I'm rich. I could buy a whole armful of decent friends but I don't need them because I have you."

"Pig," Sakura regarded her, gobsmacked. "I don't know what to say."

"That's easy, say yes," Ino's smile turned predatory.

"Yes?" Sakura furrowed her brow. The warmth was continuing to climb and now it was practically scalding.

"To more shopping!" Ino clapped her hands. "Since you're such a good friend and all."

Sakura frowned. She had fallen for it. Ino's words of affection rarely came for free. She knew that. "I can't, I have to-"

"Where could you possibly have to be right now?" Ino cut her off with a flippant question. "You don't have to be at work, you don't have the okay to start up your clinic again from the station, you don't have any hobbies, you don't have a boyfriend or your dickfriend waiting on you, you only have one friend - me - and you've already seen your mom this week," Ino counted with her fingers. She wiggled six in a taunt. "I know you don't have a date, so tell me, Sakura where do you have to be right now? Hm?" Ino lowered her chin on the bridge constructed of fingers.

You don't have to call me out like that Ino. Or at the very least take so much enjoyment in it.

"But don't you?" Sakura deflected with more desperation than tact.

"I'll call it in. Say something came up. Karin can take my consultations. She owes me anyway for borrowing my dress. She returned it with a run in it. She then tried to gaslight me into thinking that it was always there and that I just didn't notice," Ino griped as she texted a message supposedly to Karin and Shizune - their supervisor. Ino looked up from her phone. Her eyes sparkled.

Oh no. I'm in for it now.

Sakura stiffened. She knew that look. That look meant trouble. No good, very bad trouble. All traces of doubt were eliminated when Ino's soft, glossy lips pulled into a smile. Cheshire cat. A bead of cold sweat rolled down Sakura's back.

xXx

"This is so unnecessary," she complained in a whiny voice as she stared at herself in the mirror with a face that was committed to being petulant and extremely unpleasant. Not that it mattered at all in the grand scheme of things.

"Turn around," Ino's hands were pulling and tugging impatiently, not deterred in the slightest by her less-than-cooperative-back-talking model.

"Hey," Sakura's shoulder hit the stall wall. The edge of the mirror dug into her skin. "Easy!" She huffed, straightening her hair back into place with a couple of shakes of her head. She frowned at her side profile. The dress fit her like a glove almost everywhere except the chest. The extra fabric bunched pathetically. Sitting much lower than it was designed to. "This one would look better on you."

"I don't need a revenge dress," Ino reminded her testily, her eyes moving up and down. "Turn around for me." As she said the words she was spinning Sakura by the shoulders. "Your ass looks amazing," Ino hummed in approval, eyes critiquing with strategy.

"I don't need a revenge dress." Especially not one so over-the-top slit on the right side, a bardot neckline. It was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. "Where would I even wear-"

"Hush, Sakura. I'm thinking," Ino's reflection was contemplative over Sakura's shoulder. "Leave it to you to not wear a bra again. It would have helped to have some structure. Can't believe you're still on that nonsense."

"The study out in Mizu-"

"What did I say?" Ino snapped. "I don't need to hear the study about how braless women's boobs sagged less than those who wore them. The whole parameters were bullshit. Some women," she gestured to herself. "Can't go prancing around without one. Their chests would have to have to be classified as Class Five weapons if that were the case."

Class One. Or Two if they were augmented or enhanced in any way.

Sakura corrected in her head. Bras were expensive and uncomfortable. So she avoided them where she could. In her defense, she did not think that she would be forced out of her thick coat and into a thin dress. But she supposed that was her fault for the oversight. But she kept that to herself because Ino was focused. The blonde was biting the tip of her nail. Eyes focused intently on the chest area. Sakura nearly brought her arms up to cover herself. Sakura felt about two feet tall. She had worked past this insecurity for the most part…but Ino was starting to make her realize she was not as accepting as she led herself to believe.

"We can work with this," the blonde exclaimed as her only warning before she whirled around the opened the thick sand-colored curtain with a flourish.

"I-Ino!" Sakura wrapped her arms and the bodice of the dress around her, preserving her modesty. Flashing the whole store was not on her list of to-do's for today or ever really.

"Don't you move, Forehead!" Ino called out from somewhere in the store, voice loud but distant. "I can fix it!"

"Honestly," the pinkette sighed in exasperation as she grabbed the curtain to close it, averting her gaze when it accidentally caught the sales attendant's. She turned in the mirror, ignoring her flushed cheeks. She observed as objectively as she could. "It's not terrible," she breathed as she admired the cut from the back. It did highlight certain assets.

I wonder if….

She all but jumped out of her skin when the curtain was yanked again. She eyed Ino through the mirror, her aghast expression accusatory. A deer in headlights. Ino had moved silently like a gazelle. Sakura did not even hear her heels.

"Wear this," Ino said breathlessly, handing her something nude-toned and with hooks. A lot of hooks. The blond moved the curtain back into place so they were no longer out in the open.

"What is that?" Sakura eyed it, dubiously. It seemed uncomfortable. Constrictive.

Like a corset or a medieval rib-crushing torture device.

"Magic!" Ino said with eyes glittering. "I haven't used one since I was like fifteen. So it didn't come to mind right away. This is the answer to everything, Forehead," Ino endorsed mightily right before she pulled down the neckline of the dress roughly toward Sakura's hips.

"I-Ino!" Sakura squeaked in indignation, face redder than the silk fabric.

"I'm going to convert you yet!" Ino laughed, more than a little deranged. And suddenly Sakura found herself preferring to be in the company of Detective Uchiha and Detective Domeki at that particular moment in time.

xXx

"Did you find everything okay?" The woman with shiny black hair smoothed close to her head asked pleasantly. An expensive red, white, and yellow ascot tied around her long slender neck.

"Does this come in any other colors?" Ino lowered the dress on the counter, not giving Sakura a chance to speak up from behind her.

"Oh, this is lovely," the woman said with a smile. She flipped the tag to read the numbers to enter into the computer. "What color family are we thinking?"

Ino glanced at Sakura who was perusing the front of the display cases under the register. The jewelry glittered.

"Red," the pinkette answered distractedly, not looking up. Sakura's palm was flat against the glass and she was at eye level with the second row, bent over.

The woman nodded her head. "We have it in a few options: burgundy, maroon, ruby, crimson…," She lifted her eyes from the screen to gauge interest before she listed off the remaining names.

Ino smirked as she leaned onto the counter. "Do you have it in floozy-red?" Ino asked; eyebrows arched haughtily. The two women exchanged a knowing look.

That's a thing?

Sakura inwardly balked.

"Candy Apple," the woman said with a distinguished nod. "It's our best seller. And it seems we have one more in this size and a couple a size up and down. Shall I pack it up for you today, ladies?"

"Oh yes, a size down," Ino threw the nude fabric on the counter too, sliding it to the woman. "And the magic-lift bra as well." She tapped her nails. The woman walked away to procure the dress. "It will fit you better," the blonde brushed off Sakura's look. "Trust me."

"Trust," Sakura said with a snort.

"Forehead, did you need heels? Ah," Ino shook her head, thinking better of it. "You can borrow a pair of mine. You still haven't given the Nobus back to me. Don't think I've forgotten."

"I already gave them back," Sakura said with a sigh as she lowered her purse to the counter to pull out her wallet. It would weep today just as she would when the statement came in. "You gave them to Karin for the fundraiser, remember?" The one that was months ago.

Ino's lip curled in real anger. Baby-blue eyes watched disinterestedly as the woman began to fold and package the dress in a white box filled with red, crinkly tissue paper.

"She's lost privileges to my closet. What else did she take and not give back?" Ino asked her without a glance back.

"Um," Sakura pressed her lips together. "Your brown handbag with the gold chain. Your purple scarf. Your sunglasses? The hexagon ones," she listed because she wanted no part in being blamed if and when Ino suddenly remembered they existed and did not find them in one of her master-bedroom-sized closets. She had five. One for each season and one just for shoes. She had an automated shoe rotational storage - it maximized space because otherwise, Ino would need three more closets to display her inventory. With each item listed, remembrance hit Ino. By the time Sakura was done her shoulders were moving up and down. Ino laughed. It made Sakura's blood run cold. She was on her phone.

"What are you doing?" Sakura asked her with traces of guilt.

I should have talked to Karin myself. But then again…she did tell everyone I was probably getting work done out in Kumo.

"Nothing," Ino said innocently, voice saccharine sweet. "Just planning a lunch date with my dear friend Karin."

We're even now, Karin. I forgive you.

Maybe Karin would find it in her heart to forgive Sakura.

"God help her," Sakura murmured, watching the woman put her purchases in a white bag with elegant gold thread of the boutique's initials. You would think with the prices they charged they could afford to stitch the whole name.

"Will that be all?" The sales associate asked again. Her bright red nails gleamed under the canned lights. Shiny.

"Can I see something?" Sakura asked politely, drawing Ino's attention from her rage-filled phone tapping.

"Of course," the woman said with a polite, professional smile. She procured keys from her pocket. "What would you like to see?"

"Sakura, have you seen this message on the hospital's online bulletin board that was just posted?" Ino tilted her phone side to side trying to communicate with Sakura discreetly. This was not where Ino got her jewelry from. Only one store in all of Yuma met Ino's standard and this was decidedly not it.

"These right here," the pinkette answered the woman's question ignoring Ino's inquiry. She tapped the glass, breath fogging it slightly.

"Cufflinks?" Ino asked, phone still in hand and her bag held in the crook of her elbow. "Who are you looking at cufflinks for? That's way too specific for the gift exchange." Not to mention expensive.

Sakura traced the smooth edges of the square platinum. They were filled with blue sapphire. They sat against black velvet in an emerald box. They were fancy without being flashy or obnoxious. Classy. They were classy.

They're perfect.

"I'll take them," she closed the lid and tapped the box once with decisiveness before sliding it toward the woman.

"Certainly," the woman gathered the box in her hands. "You have excellent taste."

And you're already counting your sales commission.

Sakura chuckled out of politeness. She pulled out her card pointedly ignoring Ino's glare - the glare that demanded Sakura explain right this instant. Instead, Sakura placed her card on the rich oak tray. It was when she had signed what she needed to sign and her purchases were wrapped and in hand that she turned to Ino.

"It's not for the gift exchange," Sakura explained without doing so. "Power of manifestation right?" Sakura asked with a wry smile, knowing full well the fire that was burning in Ino. "Come on, I need a pair of earrings to go with this dress. And we still need to pick something up for the work thing."

Ino sorted, letting Sakura loop her arm with hers. "No one is going to be looking at your face in that dress."

"Point taken," Sakura said with an eye roll. "Let's get garlic fries then. My treat." To that, Ino did not argue. Because garlic fries did not count when counting calories - it was basically a vegetable.

xXx

She was surprised that the lights were on; that he was there. Sakura lowered the bags from her arms and eventually set them down using her fingertips. She had gone a little overboard. A tradition when shopping with Ino. Either she kept her wallet sealed and did not buy anything or she was left with a monthly statement in hand and a question on her mind: why? It was like she was possessed.

But on a positive note, I found the perfect generic present.

A portable, plug-in cup or mug warmer that had a backup battery life of two hours. It would be appreciated, she was sure.

"I'm home," she said as she slipped out of her ankle boots, using a hand to stabilize her on the wall when she had unzipped them from the back. The words felt as strange to hear as they were to say.

"Welcome, back," Minato answered with hints of warmth that she might have read into. Her laptop was open on a cushion over his lap. She had his full attention. "You were gone for a while."

Not really the quick lunch I had advertised.

"Yeah," she set her shoes to join the others - next to his loafers - breaking eye contact with him momentarily. "Time got away from us." She shrugged out of her coat, putting it on the coat rack. "Did you eat?"

I hope you didn't wait for me.

She should have texted but Ino would have noticed. But there was also the fact that she and Minato did not text. The first time she had tried he gave her a mini-stroke when he called back instead, claiming it was just easier to talk over a call. So she rarely bothered. And in all truth, she did not try that hard. She figured Sasori would have told him. If she was able to sneak Sasori some donuts and cake slices, she could have texted Minato.

"I managed."

Weird. He's being weird even by our new standards.

She noticed that he had headphones in his ears. He had been listening to something. "How was your day?" She remained by the door as if tethered to it with a very short restraint, she pulled the edges of her sleeve down as low as they would go. They fell well short of swallowing her hands.

"Good," he smiled. It did not quite reach his eyes. "I tried that noodle recipe."

"I thought I smelled garlic," she sniffed the air for good measure. "Smells like a success," she said conversationally and without surprise. Minato was quite the cook. The nagging in the back of mind, gnawing away at her, moved to the forefront. Thoughts of conversation of trying it out together filled her mind. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God." She covered her mouth. Today. They were supposed to try it out today. They had made plans under the tapestry of his star-print fort. He would go shopping for the ingredients. They would cook them together. Before the tension since Haruto Nara's arrest - the disarray. "The noodles!"

"Sakura, it's okay."

She would have believed it if he had looked remotely in her direction when he claimed such things.

After I hyped them up too! And asked for them.

"Minato," she heard something in her voice she was not accustomed to hearing. The pit of her stomach had expanded to swallow the whole thing. "I'm sorry."

For being selfish. For forgetting.

"Sakura," he set her closed computer aside. He was standing from his seat but he did not move closer - just like her. "It's okay. It's fine. Did you have fun with Ino?"

She nodded her head. It was fun. But she had left fun on the other side of the door.

All faults, shortcomings,

wiped with hands with kind patience-

Strive toward your me.

With steps that were becoming more and more steady with each iteration, she walked to the kitchen. She could feel his eyes and practically read the question from the air. She first opened a drawer and fished out a fork. She moved to the fridge, finding the new storage container rather easily. It stood out. A beacon for her shame and guilt. She closed the door and pulled herself a chair. She sat cross-legged in that chair and began to tuck in all while Minato watched her owlishly. His blue eyes were so wide.

"This is really good," she said through a grimace. Her stomach complained that it did not have any room but she kept chewing. She was nothing if not stubborn. "Better than I remember," she insisted.

"Sakura," Minato's toes were just at the edge of the kitchen. "You don't have to."

"I want to," she countered adamantly, breathing deeply out before she brought another forkful to her mouth. She was no amateur. She was not going to fill up (further) on empty air. She took her time chewing in a futile expectation that by the time she was done, there would be more room. "You toasted the sesame seeds," she breathed her appreciation, choosing to ignore the way it sounded like a moan. He also made it extra peanut buttery just like she had mentioned preferring it. With lots and lots of garlic. "So good," she gushed, praying tears did not streak down her face. "You want some? Round two?" She offered with palpable hope.

She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out in relief when he trudged forward. His bare feet slapped against the linoleum. The drawer groaned before opening. The metalware did not clack at all as he pulled out a pair of chopsticks. She sighed when he finally came to sit across from her. She moved the noodles to the center. No docileness was found as he busied himself with helping her. He chewed.

"They might actually taste better cold," he admitted with surprise, holding a shrimp at the ends of his sticks.

She laughed, pushing out air. "Maybe the company has something to do with it?" She asked in a voice dangerously close to teasing. The butterflies in her stomach became hornets at the hardening of his face. Subtle but noticeable. "What's wrong?" She asked him, fork lowered to the table and the noodles threatened to come back up.

"Sasuke came by the clinic. He left his card. Slipped it through the door." Minato procured said card from his pocket. He tapped the text written in ink, in particular before sliding it over to her.

Call me.

"I'll get the vodka," Sakura was already halfway to the cabinet where she kept the glasses.

Minato rose to go to the fridge where he had placed a new bottle hours ago.

---

"I didn't touch it," she said into the dark room just as she stepped inside of the open door. Her fingers were still around the key in the lock. She found the light switch. They flickered and a low electrical hum reverberated before they turned on in earnest. Stable.

"This place is darker than a tattoo parlor," Sasuke noted dryly over her shoulder.

She made no comment on the interesting comparison on accident or a slip-up that revealed he did his homework. She stepped closer to the door to allow him to enter, which he did. She closed it behind him gently.

"You weren't kidding," Sasuke walked leisurely to the camera sitting on the middle chair. His eyes kept scanning the room. His head turned in all four directions to facilitate the most coverage of ground. He grabbed the camera. With a flick of his thumb, he turned it on and began to lazily check the contents of the memory card. "I can finally tell Shiranui to stop clenching his ass."

Lovely.

"Happy to help," she could not hold back the sarcastic words but she contained an eye-roll so she figured it was not a total wash. Her jade-colored irises migrated to the door that they had entered with not much subtly. "If there's nothing else…," she let her voice trail off. He was a detective. Surely he could figure it out.

"I missed you yesterday. Where were you?"

She blinked but beyond that, she did not let it show just how much his question caught her off guard with the interestingly worded statement and subsequent question. "For the record?" She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her thick purple top. "Didn't you get the guy?"

Sasuke smirked, his dark eyes shiny with amusement. "Not for the record. And allegedly. We allegedly got the guy."

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worry bled into the cracks and lines of her face.

"You've been cleared," Sasuke tapped his fingers against the lens cap. "Can't say I'm surprised."

You're in control. Don't let him mess with your head. Calm. Calm people control rooms.

"Oh?" She put forth her best Ino impression. Nothing shook the blonde. Sakura believed that in her bones. Hot juicy gossip notwithstanding.

"You're smart," the corner of Sasuke's mouth rose. "Too smart to get involved in such a mess. Akatsuki is bad news."

"I'll take your word for it," she countered with disinterest, forgetting for the briefest of moments those were her words that he threw back. The damage was done. She could not take them back so she compensated with bravado. The thought of throwing her hair over her shoulder crossed her mind. It was what Ino would do.

"You're kind. You care about your neighbors," he continued - establishing a pattern that she did not care for. "You have instincts that protect. I saw it myself."

"You reached for your gun on purpose?" She asked out loud, forgetting that it was not in her head.

Was it a test too? You used Ms. Honda as a prop?

"I was doing my due diligence," Sasuke answered without truly doing so. "A follow-up of sorts."

To my claims of reacting on instinct when I ran down the stairs.

With just a handful of words, he had her mentally stumbling. She rolled back in her head the conversation - the interrogation. The first outside her door and the second inside her clinic. Her guard could not be pulled more up. The only challenge was to keep it off her face and mannerisms just how shaken up she was.

He's sharper than I gave him credit for. He might be more of a genius than an asshole.

Quite the feat but no one asked her.

"I do feel a little bad."

She looked away from his smug face. If she stared longer than seconds at a time, the risk of punching his teeth in, ran high. He was just so arrogant.

And hot.

Okay, so many she took the channeling Ino exercise a little too far.

"For?" She prompted, eager to get back upstairs to her life. Hiro was slated to come over in a bit. Minato planned on still being out during that time. He promised to bring back a box of brownie mix for an after-dinner snack. And that was the only thing keeping her going.

I should text him to buy some walnuts too. Or to just get the box that comes with walnuts…does he like walnuts?

"Not calling you."

She stared at him, surprised. "For the camera? It's fine. I didn't even notice it was here. I haven't had anyone need the clinic since we came down here last." That was a lie. She had noticed the camera immediately. In her paranoia that it might be recording or it was bugged, she left it downstairs in the clinic without an additional word. It was a relief that Minato shared her reservations when he said she had done the right thing. She felt slightly less crazy for thinking the way she did.

"Before then," Sasuke corrected her misconception with a shake of his head. "You're not half bad looking."

Excuse you?

"I'm sorry?" Came the more appropriate response even if the tone was not all that different.

"Don't be," he was smirking at her again. Full of arrogance and maybe even a little charm - if she was drunk, desperate, or her cycle had lined up in the worst possible way. "I don't make the same mistakes twice."

What?

Her fingers curled as a stress response. The blood in her veins congealed. Something - everything - felt off. Wrong. So she did what she always did, she waited for more information.

"Let me take you to dinner," his smoothly uttered words in a low voice like velvet had her sputtering like an end-of-life engine.

Like a d-da-date?

"I..is..w-wouldn't that be a conflict of i-in-interest?" She struggled through her question, face aflame with embarrassment because what the hell? What was she supposed to do with this?

"How could it be?" He asked with a cocked brow.

Not even a week ago you were ready to arrest me.

"I-," she could not believe what she was hearing. "Wasn't I just a suspect?" She asked, confused as if she imagined the whole thing like a horrible fever dream.

Maybe I did get shot…down at the under level. Maybe I've been in an elaborate coma this whole time!

She could only hope because that made more sense than what was currently transpiring. She stopped herself from pinching her cheek.

"You were never a suspect, Sakura."

She was too stunned to call him out on his overt familiarity all of a sudden. "Then what was all this?" She waved her hands vaguely at everything in the room. "If not the suspect treatment?"

Was it just what you call your charm, you deranged psycho?

"It was just a tactic to encourage you to be more forthcoming," Sasuke opened the lid of a random container. He peered inside, sniffing. So unbothered by just how bothered she was. "Nothing personal."

Sakura scoffed, unable to think of anything more intelligent or witty to throw back at him. It felt personal, very personal. It was her life. What was more personal than that? She stomped over, snatched the lid from between his fingers, and slammed the metal lid back on the glass container all while glaring at him.

"No warrant, no touching," she warned for the first and last time, teeth clenched and eyes hard.

The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. Light and soft. Breathy. Her stomach turned at the realization of just how close he was. She could smell his cologne.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," Sasuke claimed, resting a palm on her counter and leaning toward her so slightly that she could not even call him out on it. It was negligible, the way he pushed the envelope. Sakura's hand over the container cap shook. The camera was somewhere behind her. "I'll make it up to you." He bore into her soul with his dark, dark eyes. Almond-shaped. Intelligent. Obsidian. Reflective. Endless. Consuming. "Show you a different kind of treatment." He smirked, his gaze intensifying.

Sakura swallowed. Audibly. There was no way, no word, in which he did not hear. The smug curl of his lip confirmed her newly discovered worst nightmare.

xXx

Her legs were shaking and the tremors were felt all the way in her fingertips. She fumbled with the door. The warm light of her kitchen greeted her. He was there. Close but not crowding. Worry on his face. Her shakiness showed up as the divet between his brows and the frown on his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, unable to hold back the question any longer. Arms reaching but not quite arriving; leaving the decision either to her or exigent circumstances - such as preventing her from falling on her face if she passed out, which in all honesty was tempting. "What happened?" He spoke again without his usual patience. Her silence was unnerving him. "Sakura," he called out her name.

She blinked. She licked her lips. Her throat was so, so, so dry. She did not know how that happened.

Water.

"What did he do?" There was an accusation in his question. "Did he threaten you?" His voice was cold, low. A chill went down her spine, jolting her senses just enough to awaken.

"Dinner."

"Are you hungry?" Minato asked her bewildered. They had lunch two hours ago. Not that it mattered. She had hardly eaten. He halted his movements to arrange a plate at the shake of her head.

"Dinner," she repeated, looking at him, blinking slowly - perturbed. "He asked me to dinner," her voice was so unsure - unsteady.

"Dinner?" He stood there unconvinced he heard her right even if he had been reading her lips. Minato's frown grew in direct proportion to his confusion. "He asked you to dinner?"

Sakura nodded her head mutely. Heavy. She was looking past him. "Without the badge…. No detective, no doctor. Just Sasuke. Just Sakura. Just Sasuke and Sakura," she repeated Sasuke's words to Minato; words she did not fully understand the significance of.

"What," he paused, lips pressing together briefly. He gathered more than just thought. "What did you say?"

She grabbed the back of the chair. The upholstery absorbed the sweat from her palm. "I said yes," she said, staring at the space between their feet. Toes pointed right at the other.

"You said yes?"

She nodded her head. "I said yes." She sank into the seat, unable to support herself anymore. Cheek rested against the cold marble. Pink lashes fluttered heavily. Spent.

---

The video played in front of the screen for his eyes. The audio played in headphones for his ears. He sat there on the printed accent chair unmoving beyond blinking. Stewing, he was stewing. Time has gone by so slowly since Sasuke left yesterday. Too slowly. But not slowly enough because the day he was dreading since learning of it was here. The time was here. And he was doing all he could to pretend that was not the case. Hence the distraction. But the documentary on a privately funded charity - the Innocence Initiative - that fought cases for those who they believed to be wrongfully convicted, hardly could keep his interest.

She had said yes. She had said yes to dinner with detective - no just - Sasuke Uchiha. All the while the inside of his mind screamed - pleaded silently for her to tell him what he longed to hear - at her to say no when he posed the question with desperation that he kept back. She said yes. She had accepted.

Empty space beside,

Unspoken explication-

Your echo fades, slow.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing Sumida into the furthest corners of his mind. The strain was starting to be too much. He lowered the laptop to the coffee table but turned up the volume. His mind was playing tricks on him. He could hear Sakura calling his name. Why would she be calling his name now? When she was getting ready - for hours - to interact and entertain someone else entirely.

Sasuke.

She was getting ready, preened, to go to dinner with the son of his rival clan head, Fugaku's youngest and consequently his biggest headache. He knew, somewhere deep down, that he had no right to feel the way he did but knowing and experiencing were two different things and he was at odds. He felt betrayed somehow. And that added to his conflict - guilt. She would not be in this situation if it were not for him.

Or would she? How casually she had mentioned her mother had given her Sasuke's number over a year ago this morning over breakfast - offhandedly even as if it were neither important nor relevant. Maybe not to her but to him, it was. It was both. Why did she not reach out to Sasuke sooner? Before all this, Sakura was in the dark about the underbelly of the Uchiha Clan - the true faces they hid under shiny exteriors with pale skin, delicate symmetric features, and dark thick hair. Sasuke was everything most were looking for. He was a graduate of a good university. He had a stable job. He was from money. He was from a traditional background and prescribed to traditional values. He was confident. He was competent. He was capable. He was smart. He was handsome. He knew how to carry himself. He was a catch - the total package. His mug was on just about every trashy magazine that ranked the most eligible bachelors of Konoha. He was sought after. He had no shortage of options. He had a fan club for crying out loud. He was something Minato could never be. Clean. Sasuke was clean. As clean as anyone born in a clan in Konoha could be.

She's not a bad texter. I'm the bad texter.

Shika was too lazy to carry his phone with him half the time, much less text. Who did Minato have to text? He never developed the habit when everyone else was learning it. It was embarrassing to admit that he was well behind the times. He did not understand the lexicon. And he could write a book on how emojis confused him. Why did they have so many meanings? Hidden meanings? Who thought that was a good idea? And so much was lost without the aid of tone. Something innocent and innocuous to the sender could be interpreted in so many different ways by the receiver. Texting was a waste of time. And then there were the spoofing technologies. Text messages could not be trusted. Anyone could pretend to be anyone else after spending as little as fifteen ryo. A phone call was much more direct. A phone call was harder to spoof. Minato did not text if he could help it. But Sakura texted throughout the day. She texted her mother. She texted Ino. She presumably texted other people - Amaya, Hiro, Detective Hatake (even if that was in the past, he was not clear exactly), maybe even Ms. Honda's son. Why did she not text Sasuke?

Could he - Minato - have been the reason? Minato stood up. He paced from one end of the rug to the other. Head bowed. Questions like that were precisely what were feeding into his torment. He was doing it to himself. He was dying of thirst while his mind - his imagination - watched Sasuke drown.

What if this was more than just what he - and Domeki for what it was worth - believed it to be? What if Sasuke was actually interested in Sakura…romantically? What then? The line between love and hate was thin. Hate was not the opposite of love - indifference was. And Sakura was far from indifferent to detective Sasuke Uchiha. She was firmly on the side of disdain during their first meeting. It was no secret. But the second time he had no purview on the interaction beyond what Sakura told him. Nor the third. What if they were texting? Sakura and Sasuke?

Sakura and Sasuke.

His stomach twisted violently at the thought, clenching.

"Minato!"

He jerked his head up. His eyes almost popped out of his head, just managing to avoid swallowing his tongue - not through lack of effort but more on account of it being impossible. "Sakura!"

She winched, covering her ear closest to him with a flat palm. "Why are you shouting?" She shouted at him.

"What?" He furrowed his brow.

Sakura rolled her eyes. She pointed to her ear while maintaining aggressive eye contact. She barely blinked. Dumbly, without thinking, he brought his hands to his ears. He felt plastic. He pulled the buds from them. His throat was dry. "Everything okay?" He asked, feeling incredibly stupid.

Clearly, it was not. He had eyes. She was staring at him flushed. Cheeks pink, eyelids sparkling with glitter, and lashes curled and coated with mascara. Her lips were more brown than usual but somehow still overall pink. Pouty. Enticing but not an open invitation either. She was holding the red dress to her - covering her chest. Sakura spun around and all but shoved her rear against his front.

Um….

"I'm late! I need you to zip me up," she spoke quickly with short, hurried words. "I was calling you from the room for like three minutes," she added with agitation.

"Sorry, I had my headphones in," he explained lamely as if she did not very well point it out to him (literally) much less see; blinking rapidly, still stunned. Still holding the headphones in his growing sweaty palm. He raised his eyes from the curve of her butt. The dress hugged her in a very flattering fit. He swallowed when he remembered there was a reason she was here in front of him and not a mirror. A mirror did not have arms that were connected to hands - hands with fingers. Fingers that she needed for a very specific purpose. His hands shook slightly as he found the tiny red zipper against her creamy smooth skin. "I don't understand," he said after clearing his throat.

"How to work a zipper?" She asked him, glancing over her shoulder unimpressed that her back was still exposed despite her stressing how pressing time was.

"Why are you going," Minato grumbled barely above a whisper. He inhaled deeply, subtly. She smelled amazing. Addicting. Different than usual and not in a bad way. Elevated. Everything about her now was elevated and heightened. He moved the zipper up in the opposite direction of what it should have been.

"He might give up information," Sakura answered, facing away, voice distant - distracted.

Willingly? Unlikely.

Sasuke was a detective. He was smart. If anyone was going to be interrogated it was her. But he did not have it in him to tell her outright. It would be a successful night if the only person hurt was just him. Just the one.

"We still don't know much about the Uchiha right? The one we saw?" She asked him, humming slightly, flattening the fabric of the dress to her chest. "Careful," she inhaled sharply when the zipper caught around her ribs. "I don't have a backup dress. Let me hold my breath. I knew I shouldn't have let Ino talk me into going a size down. I won't be able to eat anything!" Sakura sucked in air loudly. "Okay," she instructed with her breath held. "Now."

Minato slid up her zip past the clasp of her bra all the way until there was no more track left. His eyes rose to the inches of skin just out in the open. Her hair was gathered in a hairstyle that was more complicated than the typical buns she wore around the house.

"Did you get the hook?" She asked, head tilted down slightly exposing the shiny gold clasp and the dangling end of a chain at her nape.

He shook his. He stepped closer, back arched. His breath hit her skin. He found the small metal hook, also red. With his face centimeters from her back, he searched for the other end for the hook to secure into. A small red loop. Calloused fingers danced, warm and deliberate to join the two, lowering down to the straps that had fallen from her shoulders.

"They're supposed to be like that," her hand - warm - covered his, sending jolts of electricity to his elbows. She turned around slowly. "Do I look alright?" She asked him with her head cocked to the side, and a bright smile on her face. Dazzling.

"You look…," he licked his lips, starstruck, breath stagnant in his throat because he forgot to finish drawing it in. His eyes focused intently on the part of her that was the most surprising. He blinked slowly not wanting to be without them in his gaze for any longer than strictly necessary on a fundamentally functional level. It was a puzzle - a mystery - he was trying to solve. A real thought-provoking exercise. A retrospection on what he thought he knew.

Eyes knew not beauty,

Until your light appeared bright—

Now the world holds still.

She was almost spilling out of the dress. And that confused him - pleasantly. Very pleasantly. She was not the most endowed woman he had been with - not by far. She was a handful - if he was being generous - which was enough. She more than made up for it elsewhere with everything else she brought to the table. She was smart. She was kind. She was funny. She was beautiful. She was strong. She had pink hair and the most beautiful, expressive eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that reflected his face when he was lucky enough for her to allow him that close of an audience. She had really nice legs. She had a butt that…. She had a lot going for her. But now, as he looked at her chest she was considerably more than what he expected. And all he could think was how.

How did this happen?

"Perfect," Sakura was grinning - not that he registered much like he did not realize he never finished his compliment. "I owe Pig a lunch." Her hand went to her ear. "I do feel naked without earrings, do you think I need them?"

She half turned so she could gaze at her reflection in the brass mirror by the console table where she kept her keys, giving him the side view - a very nice view of both the front and back. He had no spare headspace to worry about coming across as a creep. She had used the word naked. It had to be deliberate.

She never wore makeup for me.

The thought came to mind and his bottom lip moved marginally past his top. He finally had closed his open mouth. She did not comment as she adjusted her hair. Strands framed her face, softening the look. She was amazing. She was beautiful. He wanted to touch her. To free her from the dress that did not allow her to draw in a complete breath. They had food at home. She could eat here and ask him questions if she were so inclined. He would even feed her - happily - so she did not need to lift a finger that might ruin the perfect pink manicure she had come back with after her time with Ino.

"It's perfect," Minato said gruffly, catching the surprise on her face. His gaze locked with the delicate necklace looped around her neck twice. The first loop was basically a choker. The end of a very long gold chain disappeared under her dress, a path to lead the eye. "You look perfect."

"Thank you," she beamed at him through the mirror. "I can't believe that I'm going to Sage," she gushed with what seemed like genuine excitement.

Excitement for someone else.

A bucket of ice water was dropped on him. An even bigger shock than the taunting red dress.

"Ino is going to lose her mind. She's been trying to get a reservation for months. Oh!" Sakura patted her front in a momentary relapse in memory, forgetting she did not have pockets or room for anything else. "Mind taking a picture of me?" She asked him with green eyes under red shimmering hoods. They popped even more against the sharp contrast. She looked around the room for something, hurried in her movements. She walked to the sofa where he noticed a small red clutch - the same color as her dress - was waiting. She opened it, holding out her phone for him. He transferred the headphones to his pocket, finger clammy before taking it from her. "Near the mantle?" She asked, already walking there.

Minato stared at her through the screen. The brick was competing against the dress. He shook his head. His eyes landed on the green tree in the corner of the room. "The plant," he pointed. "It will be a good contrast."

"You're a genius," Sakura moved over to the thin brown tree with wide green leaves. The pot was white and porcelain. She posed with one leg slightly bent, her shoulder angled. She smiled. He stood there enchanted. "Did you get it?" She asked with a large strained smile after a couple of seconds of him not moving.

He tapped the screen twice quickly. "Got it," he passed her the phone.

"Thank you!" She scurried back to her clutch, putting her phone in there not bothering to check the photos. She leaned, avoiding bending for something by the arm of the couch, struggling.

"Let me," he kneeled, forcing her to perch back on the armrest. He straightened the first shoe - black and strappy - before guiding her foot into it. Her baby-pink toenails slipped to the front. "You'll be able to drive in these?"

"I've done it before," her voice called out from above him. "It was such a good call to fill up the tank yesterday. I would be even more late had you not." He did not want her to stand stagnant in places too long - especially gas stations - for safety reasons. "I don't know what I would do without you, Minato."

"Call Ino," he said out of self-preservation. He did not allow himself to absorb her words. "Or wear something more sensible."

"Like my slippers?" She asked with a laugh that went silent when his fingertips grazed the inside of her ankle in purely unjustified contact. "I need the heels. He's tall."

He's not that tall.

He was guessing. It was hard to gauge things like height from the distorted fish-eye view of the door's view hole. Sasuke seemed around his older brother's height, if not a little bit shorter.

"Don't overindulge especially if you're nervous, it won't help," his advice slipped out of concern born from a scenario his brain just thought up: her heel catching in a sewer grate and Sakura with a broken ankle spilled on the sidewalk for anyone to take advantage of. Or more likely, Sasuke pounced on something she said causing it to all come apart.

"I know," she agreed with a small sigh. "I'm going to stay away from sake." It hit her harder than tequila. She knew her limitations as she grew more frank - honest - when she drank. She said what she was actually thinking after about three and a half shots. That was the amount of hard alcohol needed to temporarily disable her stingy filter. She - they - could not afford that. "You'll be around?" She asked with more noticeable nervousness.

"You won't even know I'm there." He secured the strap through the buckle. He was in no hurry to rise. "If you get a bad hit in any way, get out of there. Don't worry about being rude."

"I know," she smiled softly. "I'll be good. I'll be safe." She patted his shoulder in consolation. "I really am late, Minato."

"You're worth the wait," he said with conviction. He found it hard - if not impossible - to believe anyone could harbor a grudge against her for being late once she made her entrance. Especially if she smiled.

She giggled, cheeks turning pinker only adding to the very pretty image. "Fingers crossed that he agrees."

He rose to his feet, taking her hand and helping her to hers. The top of her head was level with his nose. He lowered his gaze just not too much lest he be distracted. Because her plan, the one he had been unsure of, would work and that too surprisingly effectively. Because he was sure that in that dress, looking the way she did, she could get any answers out of any man who was straight. He was sure of it.

She moved to the door. He followed after her, holding out her red coat for her to slip into. She lined and buttoned all the buttons. While his imagination ran amuck in his head, she plucked her keys from the bowl and waved at him. He heard her heels clicking as he watched her descend the stairs carefully through the peephole. Sasuke did not know what was awaiting him under that bulky, shapeless red coat.

"At least it's not a trenchcoat," he muttered under his breath darkly, tugging at his hair. He closed the door of the hallway bathroom. The tap turned on.

xXx

"He didn't even bring her flowers," Minato griped, peering through binoculars he had bought from a store earlier this morning. "I never gave her flowers," he practically chided himself. It was partially his fault. Maybe even majorly. They never talked about it. What this - they were. He had been passive, waiting for her to bring it up on her own. Only she never did. So it just went unaddressed.

For too long. A look where it got me.

He never had to pursue a woman before. He never had to think about it when he finally started having any interest. Shika ragged him for being a late bloomer. Minato supposed he was right. He was a bit of a loser growing up. A wallflower and having Shika - the kid who preferred the company of puffy, indiscriminate faces in the clouds to actual people - as his best friend really did him no favors. Minato did not have his first kiss until he was eighteen and that had not been entirely through his own doing. He was far from smooth in the beginning anyway. Back when he actually worried - inwardly, he dared not breathe his concerns to another soul, Aunt Yoshi was long gone - about making an effort - any effort.

A smile and a hello had served him well in the past for his purposes - for what he was after; apathetic to the prospect of the opposite sex as much as he was to life; after he grew into his ears and filled out his once lanky frame with purposeful muscle. After his glow-up in what society deemed attractive. But now, this was different. A smile and a hello was not enough. Not nearly enough.

We haven't even held hands.

What should have been one of the earlier steps - milestones - they completely forewent all together. Their fingers never rested interlaced, palm to palm with the peace of mind that came from knowing - experiencing - stability. Routine, they did not have the comfort of routine. They did not have security. They were moving backward - they did things woefully out of order. They jumped straight into it without meaningful, purposeful, sustainable steps. A sprint and not a marathon; that was the race they were running. That was not the race he wanted to run, even if he was more suited for it - built for it. The end goal - ultimate destination - was different. He was reaching for something a little harder to breach and with a more lasting impact - at least he had rising aspirations of such.

What is sought, is longed,

Soft breaths of endless promise-

Home in your heartbeats.

His father died before he could get advice from him. Because while Minato did not remember much, he knew in his bones that his father knew how to treat his mother right. They - from what Shikaku and Yoshino told him along with his fuzzy memories - were never far from one another. Always touching. Always close. Always whole in the presence of one another. Minato could see the love his mother held for his father in all the pictures of them together. She was enamored. It was in her sparkling baby-blue eyes, in her wide smile. His mother adored his father. No one else existed in her world other than Naoto and then him when he came along. That kind of look - devotion - did not just happen. His father did the work to win not just her over but her clan - he had asked for blessings after all. Work that Minato did not do.

Yoshino and Shikaku were surprisingly tender, much to Shikamaru's chagrin. They were more muted in what he remembered of their connection. He did not recall them kissing once in front of him or Shika or anyone. They relied less on words and touch and more on acts. Shikaku would prune and fertilize her camellias so that their blooms would be maximized in both yield and length. Yoshino's smile and good mood would be all the thanks the man needed. It was as if he walked on air. Yoshino picked out and set his clothes every morning - ironed. Her devotion was through her actions: the food she cooked him, the newspaper she had ready, and the coffee brewed to his preference. The little things. They would smile softly at each other - sometimes with just their eyes - and the whole world would melt away. Shika and he would cease to exist at the dinner table or the park when they went on an outing. Subtle but no less deep. He could not ask Shikaku for the wound was still fresh even after almost two decades. The pain was profound.

And Jiraiya…well he was both present and more than willing to offer advice, the thing was Minato would be amiss if he accepted it. Something told him that Sakura would not be as receptive to Jiraiya's methods as Tsunade was. And he was not ashamed to admit - to himself - that he really did not want to know what those methods were in any level of detail. Their relationship - Jiraiya's and Tsuande's - worked for them and that was where Minato was going to leave it.

When exactly was Sakura supposed to get dressed up? The only place I took her to was a laundromat.

He did not know, in short, how to woo a woman. But that was hardly any justification. Flowers. At the very least he should have brought her home flowers. Just once in addition to the groceries. He should have been more direct than his intentions went beyond the physical - beyond the situation they had that she could have misclassified - downgraded - as a situationship in her mind. He was committed. He was always committed. Even back when he could not openly commit. The commitment was always there, it was the timing that was off.

I told her I would wait…for the right person.

And yet his actions - spurred on by her, he realized - spoke to a completely different reality. He did not wait at all when he was being tested. He did not wait for things to line up. He did not wait for his plan. He did not wait for all this - this life to be behind him. He did not even wait for her to be in a more stable mental state. And that….

Clear words bridge the gap,

Heart laid bare in honest light-

Truth blooms love's petals.

"Direct. I need to be more direct." The mindful alignment of his thoughts and actions now with his words. He would wait. He would do it right. Tomorrow. Starting tomorrow.

If it's not too late. If I haven't messed it up that badly. If Uchiha doesn't….

His grip was tight around the plastic vision enhancers coincidentally as Sasuke rose to help Sakura out of her jacket. Minato's teeth pressed together with enough force to crack a molar when Sasuke stepped back and Sakura moved forward, out of the protection of her outer layer. Sasuke's gaze was low, locked on Sakura's pulp rear.

"He's not even trying to hide it!" He actually looked over his shoulder as if there was someone else in the car to corroborate if they were seeing the same thing he was. Outraged. He was outraged and offended beyond a reasonable doubt. It only got worse from there. Sakura turned around. And more than just the Uchiha's head turned. The plastic strained. He really should have splurged for the metal ones.

Silent prospects taunt,

Sweet may have beens turn to ash-

Regret's bitter bite.

xXx

"I really am sorry I'm late," Sakura said slightly out of breath from walking a block in heels at a pace faster than walking but not quite a jog. She lowered the cloth napkin in her lap, mindful to not let her elbows graze the satin tabletop.

"You more than made up for it," Sasuke hid his smirk behind his wine glass. The wine that he took the liberty of ordering before even her arrival. "That dress," he sighed in satisfaction, toasting to it before taking a sip, and setting the glass on the table.

Looks like Minato was right. The dress is a hit.

"Hm," she smiled. It was slightly tight. But he did not notice. "I'm surprised you got reservations at this place on such short notice." She was making a concerted effort to be on her best behavior - for now, only time would tell for how much longer - so she elected not to tack on an adlib to ask if he had a standing reservation to fill with whatever person he set his sights on that week. Instead, she took in the ambiance - careful to avoid the gaze of a couple that was staring at her with hunger as if she was the special on the menu - around her. The room was dark with soft yellow lighting. Naked Raiden bulbs. Dark wooden paneling. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with alcohol. The faint sounds of piano keys being played along with the plucking of a harp.

All signs point to enhancing the romance…on a planet of over seven billion people, here I sit across from you.

"Not as surprised as I am that you own something other than loungewear," he stared at her over his steepled fingers. His elbows sat bent on the wooden armrests. "You clean up nicely," he said, matter of fact.

Is this how you talk to all women or just the ones you serve a warrant to?

"Detective-"

"Sasuke," he cut her off.

Sakura kissed her teeth, using the borrowed time to dial back. She would not last long at this rate.

Ino would be so proud if I threw this wine on his face and stormed out…but then again if it meant a lifetime ban, she might just never forgive me.

"Sasuke," she rolled his name along her tongue, not caring for the way it sounded or felt. "You're antagonizing me."

"I am?" He asked with a disingenuous raise of his dark brows.

"You are, sir," she brought the wine to her lips. She inhaled the scent, breath fogging the globbed glass before she sipped slowly. Relishing the flavor. She did not find herself wishing it was vodka. It was that good. Delicious even. "I thought we were supposed to get off on a different foot?" She tilted her head to the side. Glancing at the bread on the table, it smelled divine. But even working down wine was posing to be a challenge. She smiled easily at their host who appeared to her left.

"Madam, sir," he dipped his head slightly at both of them. His hands were folded behind his back. His dark green double-breasted suit had shiny round, gold buttons. "May I please take your coat to the coat-check madam?" He gestured to it on the back of Sakura's chair.

"There's a coat check?" She asked, face losing some natural color. "Where?" She gaped with an open mouth, embarrassed she had asked both questions out loud.

The man looked uncomfortable. He turned to Sasuke for aid on how to proceed.

The Uchiha laughed, it was not unkind but her face turned even hotter. The rush of blood deepened her painted-on blush. "You were so excited that you missed it." He gestured with his eyes. "Arata," he addressed the host.

"Madam?" The man - only a surname: Arata - regarded her.

"Please," she leaned forward slightly so he could slip her coat from the chair with more room to work with. She brought a hand to her chest, covering some of the cleavage that was practically pushing up to her neck. She should have tried to sit in the dress before she committed. But that was not what she had in mind when considering it. At all. "Thank you," she dipped her head in Arata's direction. The man left just as quickly as he had come. "Thanks," she murmured the word. Saying it louder in his direction was not in her capabilities at the moment.

"I come here twice a year at least," Sasuke leaned back in his chair. His three-piece silk suit was all black. Soft. And expensive. Not one of Konan's - the stitching on the sleeves was different - something imported maybe from Suna. Ino would know. Ino would have an aneurysm if she knew where Sakura was right now and just who she was sitting across from. His voice, like his hair, was slick. "On Mother's Day and her birthday. So they're a little more accommodating with their scheduling."

You bring your mother to this place? Where everyone is…attached?

There was a throuple in the back booth who were not being very discrete with what was happening on account of all the gigging.

Dinner and an interactive activity.

"Oh," she played with the edges of her napkin. "That's sweet. So your mother and you are close?" She asked as a sane person would. Probably.

"Closer than I am with my father," Sasuke answered without emotion.

"That's something I can understand," she raised her glass. "To awful fathers?"

His eyes - smolder - tracked down the length of her face, lingering on her eyes. She felt the heat pooling in her belly.

Too far? Too soon?

The answer came when he raised his glass to click against hers. Through the rounded globe of her glass, with her lips pursed at the rim, she watched him drain his. It was being refilled by the waiter who showed up seemingly just as Sasuke had set it down.

Her lips tugged upward at the new arrival before her eyes fell on the empty plate in front of her. "Did I miss the menu too in my excitement?" She asked Sasuke only half disingenuously. Bratty.

"You really need to get out more, Sakura," he said with a sigh, amusement lighting his eyes in a manner that made her upper lip want to twitch. "We're doing the five-course tonight." His eyes never left hers while he addressed and dismissed the waiter with a flick of his wrist. A shiny watch, gold caught the light.

He knows how to accessorize…and wear a suit.

He looked good. Damn good. She could feel the daggers being shot at her in the back of her head. It was not every day that Konoha's premiere bachelor entertained a lady.

As if.

The waiter bowed and disappeared before she could even utter a sound of protest.

Five courses?

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she remembered that particular detail. She suddenly had the urge to fan herself. Too bad that the red and white fans on his cufflinks were made of diamonds and rubies instead of paper.

xXx

Minato crouched down near the front wheelbase. His dark jeans had just enough stretch to accommodate. The flashlight in his hand moved from left to right. His cobalt eyes narrowed at a small blinking light. He clicked the flashlight. There was only darkness. He waited. The red light flashed again. He sighed, clicking the flashlight on before moving it between his teeth. His phone was in his hands. He captured pictures from both orientations.

He slipped his phone into his pocket. He rose to his feet. He glanced first left then right. The street was empty. He felt the hood of her car. It was cold to the touch. He made one more round, checking the pressure of her tires with his foot. They were all within the acceptable margins. He stalked off back in the direction of his car with dread in his stomach because he knew just more of what awaited him.

xXx

The sequins from her clutch bit into her arm and her side where it was tucked in securely. The corridor was longer than she expected, arched with dark black marble tile with gold - what else - veining. The reflections of the yellow lanterns were like stars on a country-side night sky. She was self-conscious of the amount of sound her shoes were making. Echoing right back into her eardrum louder than before. She did not know what was worse: to move slowly but more quietly but prolong the length of time or just to keep walking quickly (loudly) and have it be over as fast as possible. She split the difference by defaulting to something in the middle.

She was pleasantly surprised to find there was no line in front of the dark black door with a long, wide, protruding gold handle. Just one person. A woman wearing a uniform not all that different from the one Arata donned. She had a knee-length pencil skirt instead of slack and kitten heels.

Because women don't need support.

Sakura smiled, dipping her head in thanks at the door being held open for her. She came to a standstill, eyes widening involuntarily. She gasped softly, chin tilted up taking in the meticulously painted scenery of the ceiling. Women in kimono mid-dance, fans extended. Arms were frozen in place with grace and poise. Color. Vibrant and with variation. Dark black hair oiled slick and shiny done up with clips and flowers. They were beautiful. There was so much to look at. The bathroom was bigger than her apartment and Mr. and Ms. Honda's combined. Wide stall doors on either side. An emerald couch with gold detail rested next to three panels of floor-to-ceiling mirror. Makeup stations. Ring lights. Velvet upholstered stools tucked under each bench.

It smells so good in here.

Like flowers, like she was in a meadow.

Is that?

She furrowed her brow and turned her head, walking further into the bathroom. It was.

They have a damn fountain in here?

And a pound with actual fish tucked away in the corner lush with indoor plants. Koi swam lazily at the bottom of the clear waters. The falling water - coming out of what resembled a rock - slapped the surface at a predictable, comforting cadence.

The bathroom is nicer than the dining area.

A streak of orange caught her eye. The koi slapped its tail, disrupting the image. Sakura straightened her back. She moved toward the stalls. There was no peeing unless she slipped out of her dress completely. But that was not why she had wandered inside.

I needed a break and a touch-up.

And to make sure she did not get any greens in her teeth. They were always tricky and treacherous. She was not alone in the bathroom. A voice calling out from behind a stall alerted her to that fact.

"How is he so handsome?" The voice asked with a groan. "The longer I look the better looking he becomes."

Her lips pulled into a smile. She ducked her head and continued to move along.

"But he wasn't alone today!" A voice from the otherside answered. It was slightly more raspy than the first.

"I know! She looked annoyed every time I looked over at them. She has no idea how lucky she is."

Someone else is having a not-so-good time?

Sakura gave up her trek to the otherside. Her feet hurt. She still had ten stalls - on each side - to walk past. The sinks on her left were more than good enough. She parked herself in front of one by the wall - a way to hide the support beam. She set her clutch down on the marble counter. She opened it and began to root through.

"Did you see the dress she was wearing?" There was no shortage of judgment in the question.

"How could I not?" The woman retorted back. There was a sound of a zipper being pulled up. Sakura twisted the bottom of her lipstick until there was enough poking out to slather on her lips.

The stall door hinges creaked slightly. "If I didn't know how he was, I would assume she was some high-end escort." The woman let out a rough scoff.

"True, he's not like that cousin of his," the second voice mused. "He's so handsome. Maybe even more handsome."

"So much for Sage being a classy establishment."

The women shared a laugh at someone's expense. A tap somewhere on the other side of the wall turned on. "It totally clashes with her hair."

"I know right? Someone should have told her by now that red doesn't go with pink!"

Sakura's fingers froze around the cylinder of lipstick. Lips parted, eyes wide was the set of her reflection. The fountain did not reach her with its soothing chorus where she stood, stagnant from her indecision.

"Well, I'll see you in an hour."

"God it's so boring here."

"That's what you get for being a bathroom attendant. At least the tips are nice," the woman said with a laugh. "See you."

Thick heels tapped closer and closer in pairs until the most recent step. Green eyes locked with a pair of wide-with-mortification green-gray. Her mouth flew open, lip quivering.

"Hi!" Sakura said brightly without taking her eyes off the woman's reflection. "Perfect timing, can you help me with my necklace please?"

"Uh," the woman stammered, her hands came up about halfway. She did not move beyond that.

"I can help you ma-mm," the voice said, face losing color when she too realized the situation. At the angle, her gold name tag glistened to the point that it failed to serve its purpose.

Sakura turned around slowly, she held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. "I don't want to ruin my nails," she laughed, playing up the obliviousness. "Would you be so kind," she brought one of those hands to rest over her necklace.

To their credit, the women did not exchange a look. The attendant stepped forward. Her orange hair was coiled into a sleek bun. Sakura turned back around to face the mirror. She tilted her head down. With the heels, the woman was shorter than her. It was not something Sakura was accustomed to being barely average height. Her fingers were shaking slightly.

"So does Mr. Uchiha come here often?" Sakura asked in a pleasant voice almost as if they had not been saying far-from-flattering things about her. Assumptions.

"Yes ma'am," the woman behind her answered. "Every other week," she spoke quickly, stammering and fumbling with the clasp. "Sorry," she murmured.

That's considerably more than twice a year, detective.

"You're fine," Sakura assured her with a lilted voice meant to be disarming. Usually, it was reserved for children patients who wound up in the ER one way or the other. "Does he come at the same time?"

"Mr. Uchiha is a man of habit." Her voice was still unsure but her words were whole and enunciated clearly.

"Have you been working here long?" Sakura did not miss the way the woman jumped at the question.

"S-six months."

"And your friend?" She did not believe it to be a lie.

"Almost two years," the friend answered meekly, eyes trained to the ground and hands clasped tight in front of her.

"Have you seen him with anyone else?" Sakura asked, her voice was more firm.

"Got it," the attendant - Ai the backward nametag in the mirror red - said. Sakura felt the first loop slack around her neck. The chain pooled in her waiting palm. A red ruby glittered at the end of it.

"Thank you, Ai," she smiled, tucking it back into her purse. Grabbing it before she turned around to face both women. "Have you?" She asked eyebrows held up with expectation.

The women exchanged looks, balking in synchrony. They opened their mouths at the same time, apologies tumbled out of them. Hurried, panicked, and excessive. Sakura held up her hand, stopping them mid-word. They stared at her begging for mercy with their pained features, lips trembling with a partially complete plea for her to spare their jobs. Apparently Sage paid very well.

"Please answer the question," Sakura crossed her arms.

"Just once," Ai answered, she was clenching her white-gloved hands. "It was with an older woman." She looked to her friend for support.

"His mother," she clarified. "Mrs. Uchiha is very kind."

Sakura nodded her head. "Anyone else?"

"Mr. Uchiha isn't a player!" The brunette spoke up quickly with some fire, she covered her mouth and shrank back. "Sorry."

"I should have been more clear," Sakura's smile still did not reach her eyes. "Have you seen Mr. Uchiha with anyone else? Another family member or someone that looks like him perhaps?"

Like this cousin you referred to, or something?

"No," she piped up, glancing down at her wristwatch. "My break is about to end ma'am," she uttered with reluctance, unable to meet Sakura in the eye.

"Of course," Sakura slipped her hand into her purse. She pulled out a folded-up bill. "Thank you for your help," she held it out for the brunette.

"Ma'am?" She asked, untrustingly.

"Just a conversation amongst friends, nothing worth repeating, yes?" Sakura asked gaze focused with precision; ready to read each and every thought that fleeted over their faces.

The woman curled her fingers around the fifty ryo bill. She nodded her head in understanding. "Your hair and makeup look really nice, ma'am," she pushed out through her teeth, nearly whistling like a howl of wind, bowing shallowly before tucking the money away and taking her leave. Leaving behind her friends both old and new alike.

Sakura peeled her gaze from the door and brought it to Ai who was looking no less nervous. The orange-haired woman was quick to avert her eyes. "I was hoping you could help me with something else?" Sakura asked pleasantly, conveniently flashing the numerical amount of a crisp ryo bill directly at Ai. One hundred.

Ai nodded her head. Sakura's smile reached her eyes this time.

xXx

Ai had not been nearly as helpful as Sakura had hoped. The woman barely knew anything beyond what her friend had already shared - she managed to make Sakura feel a tinge of sympathy for Sasuke however for what it was worth. It did not seem like the man had many close relationships. No friends from what she heard. A hundred ryo down the drain but she consoled herself that it gave Ai some peace of mind that Sakura would not turn around and demand that she and her friend be fired. So she was back to her original plan - having to actually talk to Sasuke. It was like pulling teeth. Still, she tried to keep the agitation and annoyance off her face to the best of her admittingly limited capabilities in this particular department.

"You must have hundreds of cousins." Sakura was only exaggerating a little. Clan populations exploded like bunnies. Year over year. The trend ticked upwards.

In particular, do you have a cousin who was shot in the hand recently? Maybe one that told you a pink-haired oni did it?

"Probably," he agreed with a monotone that lacked color. "I never cared to keep track. I have one that is more than annoying enough all on his own. He's like a persistent mold. He won't go away. Shisui," he practically spat the name. "You two would get along."

Is that supposed to be sarcasm?

"Because you find me annoying? A mutual trait that the two of us share?" She asked without offense or defense. Because it could not be that she was mold-like. If anything - if anyone - was to be mold in this dynamic it was him. He was lingering. Festering. Growing in his ability to agitate her and disrupt her life.

"Because you're friendly," Sasuke supplied with displeasure. It was definitely a flaw in his book.

So probably not him then.

"Must be hard avoiding him living in the same compound," she luffed the leafy green that was the garnish on her plate with her gold fork.

What's with rich people and gold?

"I don't live in the compound. I moved out when I went off to university."

"You didn't go to Konoha?" She crossed her ankles. It made the most sense. It was close. It was the best their nation had to offer by far.

"I wanted a change, to be outside of Fire for a while. I went to a university in Oto. Kanta University," his tone was drier than the wine - despite being just wine and not sake - that had gone straight to her head and began to form a headache. "You probably-"

Oh, I have.

"They are known for their music worldwide but they also have an excellent forensics program. Now it makes sense why you run your own crime scenes," she smiled at the surprise that had flashed across his face. He did not expect her to know things. "So you lived in Oto for four years. Came back to Konoha after?" Sasuke nodded his head. "Where are you now?"

"In Yuma still," he wiped the corners of his mouth with a champagne-colored napkin that complimented the dark green tablecloth, pushing away his plate.

Sasuke Uchiha can't leave his bougie comforts.

There were no restaurants remotely at this level anywhere below Mori.

"So you must visit often, then. Back home, I mean." Sasuke's plate left the table faster than her words left her mouth. "I'm done, thank you." She nudged hers closer to save the poor man a trip to the dishwashing station.

"Not as often as my mother would like." He sighed long-sufferingly. "In her ideal world, it would be every day so she can have her picture-perfect family dinners. But I can only stand my father for so long."

She made a sympathetic sound that was as genuine as the shade of her hair. She felt his pain and her features communicated as such.

"What happened to your necklace?" Sasuke's brows bunched together. "Did it fall off?"

Sakura's hand went to her neck out of instinct. "Oh no," she laughed, shaking her head. "It was getting itchy so I took it off in the bathroom." She patted the top of her clutch that was by her thigh. "I didn't lose it."

"Good," he said with a curt nod that she tried to tell herself was not patronizing. "Was it a gift?"

What's with you all of a sudden?

"It was," she smiled softly thinking back to her thirtieth birthday. Ino would not take no for an answer when Sakura had politely declined given the sticker shock of the item after a quick internet search because her gut was telling her it was expensive-expensive. "I'm not used to wearing necklaces," she elaborated for reasons unknown. Maybe it was as simple as to get his eyes off of that vulnerable part of her anatomy.

"Your skin's not green so it must be real," he noted offhandedly.

Charming as always, detective.

"Are you seeing someone?" He asked. Such was the dance. She asked. He answered until he changed the subject entirely. And each time he did, he reinforced that he was the one in control - beating her over the head with it.

That was one elaborate leeway.

"No," she answered. It hurt to breathe. The bra - the damn modern-day corset - was digging into her skin. She could feel the metal hooks leaving indents, maybe even some bruises.

"Too busy?" The Uchiha was surprisingly conversational. She had her doubts about his intentions. "Or is loyalty just not for you? I had my reservations but my mother assured me you were a good girl."

Asshole.

"And my mom swore up and down that you were a gentleman, it stands that we're both disappointed."

He frowned slightly. "Was your lamb not cooked how you like?"

"No," she shook her head. "It was fine. It was delicious," she clarified before he could snap his fingers and demand a new plate or for them to slaughter a live one while they watched. She was not sure if she was exaggerating or not. Sasuke seemed demanding and the staff was bending over backward to keep him happy - well, satisfied.

Minato would like it. It's a little too gamey of a meat for me, which you would know if you bothered to ask.

"You hardly touched your soup or your salad."

Of course, he noticed.

"I had a big lunch," she lied. She had barely eaten anything today, something that Minato gave her grief over. She forewent lunch not because she needed time to get ready - she did, she was not very efficient in time management when it came to this probably due to lack of practice - but because her stomach had not stopped churning since she woke to an empty bed. He was up before her, sitting on the couch was where she found him. Minato was upset. Something was bothering him but she did not have enough bandwidth to ask him what it was. She was struggling with her own load as it were.

"I'm not seeing someone because it's not a priority," she moved the conversation from the lack of food she was consuming and addressed his inquiry. "I didn't reach out to you - which for the record, neither did you - for the same reason."

And because my gut told me it would not be worth it.

"You said yes to this," Sasuke pointed out what she needed no reminder of. Just like the painful reminder that she had not broken in the shoes she was wearing enough for them to be comfortable. All the pressure was felt on the ball of her foot.

Good thing I didn't take a pair of Ino's, they would have been stilts.

"You made it so easy to decline," she rolled her eyes. "And I always wanted to try Sage. Your mother has excellent taste."

Too bad that's all I can do. Taste.

Not even. It was more accurate to label it as aroma indulgence.

"I'll be sure to tell her."

It bothered her that she could not tell if he was joking or not. She would rather him not tell Mikoto because she would much rather not have Mebuki ever find out. Or God forbid, Ino. She would not be able to get out of that mess. Ino was protective - ferally so. She would not stand for Sakura to be in the company of a confirmed jerk no matter the setting of such a meeting.

"Why did you become a cop?" She asked him, with her fork and knife on the table. Just one more course was left. Dessert and then she cut herself out of her dress. She was sure Minato would help her without complaint. They could scarf down on the leftovers together once she was in an elastic waistband and a loose hoodie - preferably one of his. They were so much nicer (less worn) than hers.

He's probably hungry watching us eat all this food…well watching Sasuke eat. Maybe he grabbed something beforehand. He is practical.

"Instead of going into the family business of massage parlors?" She added out of necessity because Sasuke did not make any indication that he was ready to answer a low-effort question.

"Spas," Sasuke corrected her without missing a beat. "There's also real estate - commercial. Clubs and restaurants, the like," he elaborated further. "Joining the police force is every bit as a clan tradition. The Uchiha are overrepresented amongst the ranks," he enlightened her without discernible condescension - a pleasant change of pace. "But to answer your question, I wanted to get out of my prodigal brother's shadow. The son who could do no wrong. I want to be my own man, stand on my own two feet for what I think is right."

"That's admirable." She folded her hands in her lap and rested them there. "I respect your outlook."

Hopefully, Minato is staying out of the cold. It bothers his shoulder.

"Enough to overlook everything else?" The Uchiha asked with more than a hint of a smirk. "Your disgust is not as palpable as before."

"It's the alcohol," she said without blinking. "It makes everyone more tolerable." She tapped her finger against the stem of the glass. "And truth be told, you not accusing me of being in cahoots with a criminal is doing wonders for my tolerability." Her stomach tightened, making it even more of a punishment to breathe.

He chuckled, and the sound was far from unpleasant. He was attractive. Stupidly so. And just her type. Quiet. Confident. Capable. Smart. Tall. Stoic. But he was also things she could not stand. Rude. Dismissive. Arrogant. Obsessive.

"I have trust issues," Sasuke offered up disingenuously. "But you returned my coworker's camera. So that gives you some goodwill."

She smiled prettily. "A cop with trust issues, color me surprised."

"You have your experience with that don't you?"

"Hm?" She blinked at him in question.

"Hatake."

"How do you know," she held back the rest of her question. Alarmed. The table that was adorned with cloth might as well be as cold and unforgiving as stainless steel. The dim mood lighting was that of a purposefully dark interrogation room. How could she forget? How could she get comfortable?

How much did I drink?

A glass, not even. But on an empty stomach, it was much more. It might as well have been.

"His phone pinged within a block of your apartment. Sporadically over the past year," he shared without shame or remorse. Or decency really. His expression did not change. Detached. Aloof. Cold.

He's enjoying this.

"Wow," she bit her tongue. But her nostrils flared all the same. "I thought I wasn't a suspect."

"I needed leverage," Sasuke sighed, smoothing a palm against his slicked-back hair; reflective obsidian. "I find bringing up the whole thing to be distasteful in all honesty. But I would not be doing my job if I did not warn you. I see a pattern that's concerning."

"And what exactly do you think you see?" Emerald flame blazed in a challenge she would back with her actions.

"You have a type," Sasuke did not blink against the warmth of her heat. "Broken. Troubled. The kind to drag you down with them."

She snorted, turning her head away. Her jaw clenched tightly. Emerald-colored eyes searched for what she knew they would not find. No head of yellow hair and cobalt eyes, no seas of patience and tranquility. Mauve lips broke their seal enough for the sound to push through. "And you're what I need?" She asked the empty air.

"You don't need anyone, Sakura," he said her name with a surprising level of gentleness. "You have so much potential."

She did not comment on the half-thought that he shared. Just as she did not look at him as their plates were lifted and replaced with dessert in a silent communication that she did not care to note.

xXx

They were outside the restaurant. His seat was as low as it would go. His blond hair was shoved into a black skull cap. Black on black. His clothes were dark against the black leather seats. He watched them walk slowly. There was distance between them but it was not the width of that of strangers. Nor was it close enough to hold familiarity. Somewhere in the middle. The Uchiha walked slowly to accommodate her shorter legs given the illusion of length by her heels. Her strides were still small. Her shoulders were bunched up. She should have worn a scarf. Be he supposed with that neckline and that dress, it would have been a disservice.

He watched with a clenching stomach as Sasuke turned to face her rather abruptly. His back was to the street and there was not enough light for his reflection to be visible in the dark satin-covered window. Minato was unable to look away when Sakura tilted her head back to engage and maintain eye contact. He read her moving lips.

xXx

"Did you take the train?" Sasuke asked her. His warm breath ghosted the tops of her cheeks.

"I drove," Sakura said with a shake of her head. "I think it will be a while before I can take the subway again."

"Right," Sasuke shuffled on his feet. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. If Sakura did not know any better she would have guessed he was uneasy. "I'll walk you to your car."

"No thank you," she smiled to soften any bruised ego. "I need to make a phone call to my friend. Give her the whole rundown before I forget a detail. Otherwise, she will kill me," Sakura sniffled. The air was nippy, her toes cold, and her feet were sore. "You don't want that on your conscience."

He scoffed in amusement, lips curled upward in the beginnings of a smile. "Yuma is safe. Stay under the street lamps."

All three of them, you mean?

Where the average household income went up, the number of streetlamps decreased. "I will," she rolled her shoulders back in an attempt to stay loose.

Sasuke was staring at her. Right at her. Not saying anything. Sakura's brain did not quite know how to handle it. Her plump, painted lips parted.

"I'm sorry," Sasuke breathed over the silence, breath visible and moving with precision toward her. She blinked in confusion. "For searching your brother's clinic."

Of course, you ran a background check.

Sakura pushed the lump down in her throat with a rough swallow of cold air. "You were just doing your job," she barely warmed the air with a murmur that meant even less.

"And for your loss," his words were crafted with only earnestness.

Now that you've started apologizing, you can't stop or something?

A gloved hand tucked hair behind her left ear, pushing the naked earlobe to the forefront of attention. "Thank you," she said, holding his gaze for only the time it took to work out the syllables. This was something almost human in them - empathy. She shook her head free of thoughts that would bring an onslaught of memories both good and bad - all would leave her forlorn with longing for a time that she could never return to.

"Well," she looked at him expectantly, eyes bright with clarity and mind focused with singularity. She wanted to go home. "That was something alright. Thank you for the treatment of a proper five-course meal."

"None of which you ate," Sasuke's eyes trailed down his arm to the to-go bags in his hand. She had five boxes. Boxes he gave her no choice in carrying.

"You should have asked, three courses would have been excessive. Five was just ridiculous," she clicked her tongue, reaching for them with a small thankful smile. They exchanged hands. Gloves meeting, muting any potency of potential sparks. Negligible.

"Not my style," his gaze moved over her face languidly. Like it was his right. It annoyed her more than she cared to admit to herself that it left her with a twinge of self-consciousness. "When will I see you again?"

Presumptuous, that is your style.

She bit back a groan. Maybe the dress was too perfect. His eyes had not strayed from her person for long. Or he just really liked messing with her mind. "I'll let you know?" She offered the best she could at the moment.

Don't hold your breath.

"Think about what I said. The world - Konoha, Yuma - is not without decent men for a decent woman like you."

She nodded her head at what was perhaps the closest thing to a genuine compliment she received all night but that too was wrapped in layers of entendre. "Well, good night," she waved and took a step back. A hand on her elbow stopped her from turning on her heel. What she saw in her eyes had panic climbing up her spine. Hot. Prickly. Invasive. His intent was clear. Long before his long, dark lashes flickered down to her brownish-pink lips and stayed there.

She wanted to kiss him even less than she wanted Minato to see her kiss him. Maybe it was neck and neck - too close for her to admit even to herself. Like everything else, he had trouble with hearing no. So she did what she felt she had to. Sakura stepped forward. She tilted her head up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Her eyes closed for just a second. She stepped back.

"Goodnight, Detective Uchiha." She smiled with something that was borrowed from a fragment of her imagination. She held the leftovers to her chest - a barrier - and began to walk as fast as her earlier decisions would allow. Her green eyes never stopped scanning. Searching.

xXx

Her heels came to a stop right at the edge of her black outdoor mat that said "Welcome" in brown cursive letters. The wind bit her bare hands - her balled-up gloves shoved into her peacoat pockets, expanding them. There was no small sliver of light at the bottom of her door.

Is he just sitting in the dark?

He had to have made it back home before her. She had driven deliberately slowly - taking the toll bridge so that a picture of her license would be taken by the cameras - due to her six-inch stilettos. An alibi at best and a timeline at worst - if her body ended up found under a bridge by some teenagers trying to get themselves into trouble. Never did she think all those hours spent watching her procedural comfort show after work that her life would become like a seasons-long, drawn-out story arch.

They had agreed to no phone calls or texts just in case someone was within reading or listening distance or if the towers were being monitored in accordance with her location to try to correlate her burner to her. So she could not even ask.

It could not be that he was asleep already either. He would have made sure she made it home before doing such a thing. He was considerate like that. Sakura let out a constricted sigh. Her coat felt heavy, it was weighing her down.

A bath. I want to soak in a bath.

Before she settled down at tucked into her leftovers while in an oversized sweatshirt and loose shorts. She could not wait to get Minato's opinion on the lamb.

He's going to love it. No potatoes for him. They were divine. Well okay, maybe he can have one. If he's nice. If he offers to do the dishes.

The potatoes were like butter from the one bite she had. And she did enjoy watching Minato do the dishes - with his sleeves rolled up and his forearms out on display, slightly veiny. Sakura fumbled with her keys, trying to find the right one. A porch light to her right turned on right before a head popped out of the now-open door.

"Sakura, dear," Ms. Honda blinked at her with sleep in her eyes. Her light-blue plush robe was wrapped around her tight. "Are you just getting back in?"

"I am," Sakura smiled apologetically, keeping her voice low enough to not disturb any other sleeping neighbors but still loud enough for Ms. Honda's hearing aids to pick up on. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Ms. Honda shook her head. "It was the darn raccoons getting into the garbage bins again. They knocked one over. When I went on the balcony to check, I noticed your car was gone. I thought maybe you started up work again." Her gray eyes moved up and down Sakura's frame. "You look lovely."

Oh, Ms. Honda, you're only saying that because you can't see what's under this jacket.

"Thank you," Sakura curtsied much to the older woman's delight. "I had a date," she explained. She found the key that had evaded her earlier.

"Oh," Ms. Honda's eyes lit up. "Someone I know?"

"Um," her eyes moved slowly up and to the right. "Remember the detectives that were questioning me? Not the blond one with the wedding ring."

"Oh, Sakura!" Ms. Honda's face pulled into a frown. "Dear, certainly he's handsome, but he's not a very nice boy. You can do better. You should do better."

Thank you, Ms. Honda. I don't think we'll be seeing one another again. Fingers crossed.

Sakura chuckled. She was grateful for the woman's indignation on her behalf. "How is Mr. Honda doing?" Her green eyes became more alert and focused.

"Better," Ms. Honda said with a sigh. "He's back to driving me up the wall with his antics. I have to cut his pill in half for him to eat it. He's a grown man!"

"Let me know when he runs out. I'll prescribe the chewable kind for the refill," Sakura offered with a knowing smile. "They are very popular and taste like cherries."

"Ah, dear," the woman placed her palm flat over her chest. "You take such good care of us. Many blessings to you and your mother."

Sakura dipped her head. "Goodnight, Ms. Honda."

"Goodnight, dear." Ms. Honda stood with her door open until Sakura's lock clicked closed. The porch light dimmed until there was nothing left.

Sakura blinked her eyes in the darkness. She lowered her keys into the bottom of her decorative bowl. The clink of metal and plastic against ceramic alerted her to it. The rustle of her plastic bag was next as it rested on the console table. Then her clutch. She carelessly nudged the bowl slightly in the process.

Maybe he did fall asleep.

With a sigh, Sakura brought a palm flush against the wall and raised the opposite leg. With the hand on the same side of her leg, she began to undo the clasp on her shoe. She hissed in relief when it clattered to the floor. She grimaced.

I should be quieter.

She half turned so she was facing the door again to free her other foot. She caught the shoe before it hit the floor this time. Bent over, that was when she felt something bump into her. But before she could work up the coherency to make a sound. A hand was placed against her mouth. Muffling her confusion.

Minato?

She recognized his scent immediately but that did not stop her from trying to spin around. His grip on her front pushed her back into his chest, nearly knocking the air from her lungs. She froze. Heart stammering.

W-what are you doing?

His hand - the one not clamped across her lips - attacked the button of her coat next with such blatant disregard she was worried they would scatter all over her floor and be lost forever under the couch. Her skin was flushed. The separation between them was just enough to accommodate her coat falling to the floor in a muffled frump. The buttons clicked against the hardwood floors where the rug did not reach. Her mind was spinning with what was just happening.

Her eyes widened at the sound of her zipper being torn open with just as much force as her buttons. She squirmed in his grip but he held her firm. Both her wrists were pinned by the arm that held back her ability to speak. The silk trailed down her body, catching at her hips. The straps were at the crook of her bent arms.

Even in the pitch black where she could not make out the whites of his eyes, she felt embarrassed, exposed. Terrified. But also something more. Something she did not want to give any legitimacy to by thinking about it.

Minato, tell me what's going on. Tell me what you're doing.

Doing to her. In the times they had been intimate, he was never like this. So forceful. So hungry. So after his own needs. He was attentive. He was gentle. He was reassuring. He was always in control. Never like this. Because even if he was exerting his will on her right now, he was in no more control of himself than she was. It was almost primal the way his touch felt. Possessive.

Did my dress really get him this worked up?

Or was it more than that? Was it seeing her with another man? There for him to see but not touch. He released her hands. She did not pose resistance when he tugged the dress down her hips and buttocks so that she stood in front of him in nothing but her bra and red thong - because she did not want panty lines to impact the illusion of her painted-on dress. She did not pose resistance because she wanted to see where this would all lead. She wanted to know what it was like to let him have his way with her. It thrilled her. The prospect of being manhandled. By him. By Minato.

Because she knew in her bones that he would not hurt her. At that moment. Sakura stilled against his hand. It slipped from her lips down her neck - his thumb pressing just enough pressure to make her breath hitch and her pulse jump. It burned all the way down her arm to the inside of her wrist where he latched on. Strong fingers curling in a grip. She stepped over her pooled dress and coat. Following after him without a sound as he navigated them past the obstacles of her living room as effortlessly as if the lights were on. Butterflies attacked her empty stomach.

The door was open. He nudged it wider with his shoulder. She slipped through behind him. Heart beating so fast that her pulse thrumming in her veins betrayed her anticipation. She licked her lips which lacked the taste of him. She would have to remedy that.

I should have touched up my makeup.

As if she could have predicted this even with her vivid imagination. She would be lying if she said she did not expect the evening to end this way somehow - with Minato taking her out of her dress. She just overestimated how involved - persuasive - she needed to be in the process. The bedroom was dark. She held onto his arm with the hand that was not in his tight grip. Like he was worried he would lose her in a crowd if he relaxed it even just a margin more. She did not mind. Not in the slightest. She furrowed her brow when he did not stop. But she did not question him. A spoken word could bring it all crashing down until the prospect of whatever this was, was nothing more than pulverized diamond dust. Once something of intense value but reduced to nothing. That was how much pressure was against her chest. The damn bra was crushing her. If only he had removed it just like he did everything else.

She closed her eyes and turned her head at the flip of a switch and the brightness of the lights. She kept her gaze on his fully clothed back. Right between his shoulder blades. She could see the tension he carried. Minato stepped into the shower, tugging her with him. His warm front pressed her back against the cold tile. She let out an involuntary gasp.

You can do whatever you want to me.

Her cheeks flooded with color no later than the thought had filled her mind. She averted her gaze, blushing furiously, worried that he somehow read her eyes but also wanting him to. Because she would never be able to say those words out loud. The embarrassment would kill her. Surely. Maybe.

You set me ablaze,

You claim to be unaware-

Passion's spark smolders.

She opened her mouth only to close it when he turned on the tap. The water behind him. She wore perplexion over her pink filled-in brows and painted lips. Her green eyes gazed upon his face. His eyes - cobalt and not navy - did not contain the same ravenous nature of his actions just moments ago.

"Minato?" She found her voice to call out his name. She was confused. He was so close but at the same time, she could not read him. He was distant. Her confusion turned to nothing - her mind went blank - when he pulled out his phone. There was a picture on his screen when he turned it to face her. She frowned. "What am I looking at?"

"I found this under your car," his voice was barely above a whisper. She shivered despite the shower filling with steam.

"My car?" She asked, giving the picture a second glance. She could make out something that looked car-adjacent. A curve of some kind. She recognized the bits of object in the frame. Black. Her tire. She squinted. She saw a dark gray box and a blurry red dot. Her eyes widened. "A tracker?" She looked at him. What else could it be?

"I need to check your bags and phone for bugs," his own phone disappeared from her line of sight.

"Console table," she managed to work out over the falling water when it became painfully apparent he was waiting for her engagement. "They're all there. Everything," but the undergarments on her person.

"Did he touch you?" Minato asked her, eyes dark and voice clinically detached.

"Touch me?" She furrowed her brow, confused.

Oh.

That was why. That was why he stripped her. Her clothes. Sasuke could have planted something when he placed his hand on the small of her back when he helped her into her chair. Or maybe the host slipped it into her coat pocket.

So that's why….that's why?

"Sakura," Minato snapped her attention back to him.

"N-No," she denied shakily. "I don't know." She felt like a fool. So dumb.

"I'll let you know if I find something." He was gone just as soon as his lips stopped moving. The door opened. The cold air hit her front.

She blinked her eyes slowly. The air was damp and warm. She listened to the water drop for a minute more before her fingers worked to pick out the pins in her hair, letting them rest on the shampoo shelf for her to remove later. The pink hair tumbled down to mid back. She undid the hooks of her bra and stepped out her panties, setting both aside on the bench where minimal water reached - her red thong required special hand care if she wanted to save them. She moved under the steady flow of the water; it pelted her face - washing it of her disappointment. She closed her eyes and inhaled. It was just her luck that when she could finally breathe again, Minato took his breath away with him in a whirlwind.

xXx

She was in the middle of applying lotion to her legs when there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she said without stopping her task. She focused on spreading the vanilla-scented lotion into her calf. Her heart rate spiked as the door creaked open.

"It's all clear. Your phone and things are bug-free."

From the volume of his soft-spoken voice, she discerned that he had not moved from the doorway. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that was the case. His toes did not even break the barrier. He was in his entirety out in the hall.

"That's a relief," she said mechanically just as her leg lowered from where it was propped up on the bed to the floor to join the other half of its pair. She turned her body so she was facing him. "What about the tracker?"

"It's the police. The Akatsuki use a different grade," he answered without letting his eyes dip lower than the gap between her brows. "For now, ignore it. Pretend that you don't know it's there."

Easy for you to say.

"Do you know how long it's been there?"

"No," he shook his head once, definitively. "Try not to worry about it. Get some sleep. Goodnight."

What?

"Minato," she said his name with confusion. It was not even ten. She looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head right in front of her eyes.

"I am expecting some phone calls. I don't want to disturb you." He tapped the doorframe once before he pulled the door knob toward him, disappearing from view.

"Too late," she murmured into an empty room moments before she flopped onto her bed. Her silky white negligee - the sexiest thing she owned - frumpled in defeat around her. Sakura grabbed the first pillow within reach. She covered her face. It swallowed her groan of frustration. Her heels moved up and down as she flared them on the mattress. Her bottom lip was pulled past her top, in a moody pout. She tucked the pillow under her chin and curled her back. Her arms wrapped around it securely. It smelled like him and that just made everything so much worse.

I really should have asked Ino to be more specific.

Because from where she lay - sprawled out like a starfish sunbathing on a rock - the only person her dress got back at was herself.

---

A/N: Please review. Thank you!