The apartment was shit.
No, really—it was. Peeling wallpaper, a busted radiator, and a single window that barely let in any light. The couch had stuffing spilling out of its side, and the kitchen smelled faintly of mildew. The whole place screamed poverty. Itachi hated it, but he hated what had led them here even more.
Right now, though, he had bigger problems.
"You stole my gun," Itachi said, voice low and controlled. He sat at their tiny, secondhand kitchen table, elbows on the surface, fingers steepled together. Across from him, Sasuke stood, arms crossed, the sleeve of his hoodie darkened with blood.
His blood.
"And then you used it to rob a goddamn store."
Sasuke scoffed, leaning against the counter, casual—too casual, considering the bullet wound in his arm. "Yeah, well, I needed cash. We needed cash. I got it. You're welcome."
Itachi's jaw clenched. "You got shot."
"Yeah, and? Didn't kill me."
Itachi inhaled slowly through his nose. "That is not the argument you think it is."
Sasuke rolled his eyes and pushed off the counter, pacing. "Look, we've been broke for weeks, we're behind on rent—what the hell else was I supposed to do? You sure as hell weren't coming up with any ideas."
"You could've talked to me."
"Yeah, and you would've said no."
"You don't know that."
Sasuke snorted. "I do know that." He turned on his heel, facing his brother directly now, his expression twisted with something between frustration and disdain. "You still think we can play by the rules and get out of this. Like someone's gonna swoop in and save us if we just hold on a little longer."
Itachi's fingers curled into a fist. "That is not what I think."
"No? Then what?" Sasuke spread his arms. "Because from where I'm standing, this is our reality. No one's coming, no one gives a shit. We do what we have to or we get left behind."
"Getting yourself killed is not survival, Sasuke!"
Sasuke laughed, but it was humorless, bitter. "You really think I'll live long enough for that to matter? Be real, Itachi." His voice dropped, his smirk fading. "We both know how this ends. You get arrested. I get thrown in a ditch somewhere. That's our future. Unless we start fighting back."
Itachi exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the edge of the table. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" Sasuke tilted his head. "Look around you, Itachi. Look at where we are. Tell me I'm wrong."
Itachi didn't look around. He didn't need to. He already knew. The cold, suffocating weight of their situation sat heavy in his chest every time he walked through the door. He knew they were drowning.
But still.
"You could have died," he said, quieter now.
Sasuke met his eyes. "Yeah. And? I'd rather die trying than sit here waiting for it to happen."
The words hung in the air between them. For the first time in the conversation, Itachi had nothing to say.
Sasuke shook his head, disappointed but unsurprised. "That's what I thought." He turned, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Itachi asked.
"Out."
"Sasuke—"
"Save it." He glanced back, hand on the doorknob. His expression was unreadable. "We're not gonna make it, Itachi. Not like this."
And then he was gone. Itachi sat in silence.
Sasuke's words echoed in his head, circling like vultures, picking at thoughts he didn't want to have. They were going to lose this fight. He knew it. Sasuke knew it. But Sasuke had chosen to fight anyway.
Itachi sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Maybe his little brother had a point.
Naruto stomped down the hallway, jaw tight, hands curled into fists. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Some nights ago, he and his team had responded to reports of gunfire. They arrived to find what looked like a failed weapons deal—bodies on the ground, blood smeared across cracked pavement, and crates of unregistered firearms left behind in the chaos. Textbook shit. They had made arrests. A damn good job they did.
And now? Every single suspect was being let out.
"Lack of evidence," they said.
"Administrative errors," they said.
Some other bullshit excuse, but Naruto knew what it really meant: someone up top had pulled the strings.
He walked past a patrol officer near the vending machine. "Morning, Naruto!"
"Yeah, hey," Naruto muttered, not even looking.
He barely noticed his own feet carrying him toward Major Crimes, his mind tangled in frustration.
And then there was the worst part.
Among the men they arrested? Some of them had been KPD officers.
At first, Naruto assumed they were just dirty cops—bastards trying to line their pockets. But no. Now he was being told they were undercover. On a mission so classified that not even the department knew about it.
Yeah. Right.
It all smelled like bullshit. But no one else seemed to care.
Naruto shoved open the door to the Major Crimes office. The usual background noise filled the room—clacking keyboards, the murmur of quiet conversations, the buzz of the old overhead lights.
"Yo, Naruto," Sai greeted, glancing up from his paperwork.
"Mm."
"Morning," Shikamaru added from his desk.
Naruto barely grunted back in response, walking right past them. He didn't slow down until he reached Kakashi's office. Without knocking, he pushed open the door.
Kakashi sighed before even looking up. "Let me guess," he said, flipping a page in his file. "You're here about the case."
Naruto shut the door behind him. "The case? You mean the one where we arrested arms dealers, gang members, and—oh yeah—dirty cops, only for them to be back on the streets like nothing ever happened? Yeah, Kakashi, I'm here about the case."
Kakashi stayed calm, leaning back in his chair. "Naruto..."
"Don't 'Naruto' me!" Naruto snapped. "I watched those guys dump a body, Kakashi. A body! We pulled guns off of them. How the hell do they just walk?"
"Because," Kakashi said simply, "someone higher up said so."
Naruto blinked. "That's it?"
Kakashi shut the file. "That's it."
"That's bullshit."
Kakashi nodded. "Probably."
Naruto let out a tired breath. "And you're okay with this?"
Kakashi stared at him for a moment. Then, flatly, he said, "Follow orders from up top. Let it go. The case is closed. The department has already taken measures to ensure better cooperation between teams moving forward."
Naruto stared at him, stunned. "Are you just reading me a script?"
Kakashi's eyes gave him an unreadable look. "Does it matter?"
Naruto clenched his jaw.
Kakashi leaned forward, folding his hands together. "Look. I get it, kid. You want things to be simple. Good guys, bad guys, justice, law. But it's not like that. Not here. Not in this job."
"So what, we just let it go?"
Kakashi tilted his head. "We do our jobs. We do what we can. And we don't pick fights we can't win."
Naruto felt his nails dig into his palms. "That's bullshit," he muttered again.
Kakashi sighed. "Maybe. But that's reality." He leaned back again, nodding toward the door. "Go cool off, Naruto. You've got work to do."
Naruto glared for a moment longer, then turned sharply and left.
Back at the desks, Naruto dropped into his chair hard, still seething.
Shikamaru, sitting across from him, let out a lazy sigh. "Let me guess. Kakashi told you to drop it?"
Naruto gritted his teeth. "Yeah."
Shikamaru snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, that tracks."
Naruto looked at him. "What's so funny?"
Shikamaru smirked slightly. "You're still the FNG, man."
Naruto frowned. "The what?"
"The Fucking New Guy."
Sai nodded from the side. "It's an accurate term."
Naruto scowled. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Shikamaru said, stretching, "that you don't get it yet. Not every 'major crime' is one 'Major Crimes' is allowed to handle. Some shit is just… beyond us."
Naruto's frown deepened. "That's a pretty bleak way to look at it."
Ino, who hadn't looked up from her computer, muttered, "Don't worry. Give it a few months, your excitement will die off. You'll be a soulless husk like the rest of us soon enough."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I have plenty of soul."
Ino spun in her chair, staring at him like he'd just said the sky was brown. "You sure?"
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "Troublesome woman..."
The moment passed, but Naruto still couldn't shake the frustration sitting in his gut.
This wasn't how he thought things would be. This wasn't what he signed up for.
And yet, here he was. Sitting in an office, trying to wrap his head around a reality he wasn't ready to accept.
The café was cozy—one of those small, family-run places with worn wooden tables and the scent of fresh pastries lingering in the air. The late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows, catching the steam rising from Sakura's coffee cup.
Across from her sat her father, Kizashi Haruno, his hands wrapped around a plain black coffee mug. He leaned back in his chair, giving her that easy, familiar smile that always made her feel like a kid again.
"This is nice," he said, taking a sip. "You've been busy. Thought you forgot about your old man."
Sakura smirked, stirring her coffee. "I called you two days ago."
"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled. "But it's not the same as seeing my beautiful daughter in person."
Sakura snorted. "You always say that when you feel bad about not calling me first."
Her father put a hand over his chest, mock-offended. "Me? Feel bad? Never."
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth between them was unmistakable. These coffee meetups were a routine, something they did every now and then, whenever she had a break from her classes and he could slip away from work.
Her father sighed, glancing out the window. "So, college still kicking your ass?"
Sakura exhaled dramatically. "Like you wouldn't believe."
"You're too smart for your own good, you know that?"
"Tell my professors that," she muttered.
Her father smirked. "They'd probably tell me you talk too much in class."
"Hey!"
"Like mother, like daughter," he said, a soft chuckle in his voice.
Sakura stilled slightly, her fingers tightening around her cup for just a second before she relaxed again. Mom...
She wasn't around anymore, but moments like this—casual, heartfelt, full of teasing—felt like she was.
Her father seemed to sense it too because his smile softened just a bit. "She'd be proud of you, you know."
Sakura looked down at her coffee, feeling that familiar, bittersweet ache in her chest. "I hope so."
Her father reached across the table, giving her hand a firm squeeze before pulling back. "I know so."
They talked for a while, bouncing between random topics—her classes, his work, the weird customer he had to deal with that morning who tried to bribe him with homemade cookies just to get an extra delivery.
Eventually, Sakura leaned back with a very casual air, taking a slow sip of her coffee before saying, "So… you definitely remember what's coming up, right?"
Her father raised an eyebrow. "... Should I?"
Sakura narrowed her eyes. "Dad."
He smirked. "Ohhh, you mean the thing…"
She groaned. "You're messing with me."
"Your birthday, right? You're what, sixteen now?"
Sakura huffed, setting her cup down. "Twenty-two. And you're old."
Her father groaned dramatically. "Don't remind me."
"Well, I will remind you. And I hope your gift this year is better than last time."
Her father blinked, feigning offense. "Hey, the fishing trip was great!"
Sakura stared at him. "I was bored out of my mind."
"Fishing is relaxing."
"It's watching a stick float in water for hours."
He scoffed. "That's because you scared all the fish away, stomping around and complaining."
"I was bored!"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No appreciation for the finer things in life."
Sakura smirked. "If by 'finer things' you mean getting sunburnt and nearly falling asleep in a boat, then sure."
Her father let out a long sigh. "No respect for tradition."
"Please. Just do better this year, old man."
He ruffled her hair, ignoring her groan of protest. "Yeah, yeah. I got something planned, don't you worry."
Sakura eyed him suspiciously. "Is it another fishing trip?"
"... No."
She squinted. "You hesitated."
Her father laughed nervously, raising his hands. "Trust me, alright?" He made a mental note to scribble 'Fishing trip for her birthday' off his calendar app.
Sakura sighed but smiled. "Fine. But if it involves sitting in silence in the middle of nowhere, I'm disowning you."
"You love me too much to disown me."
She leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before standing. "... You're probably right."
Her father chuckled, watching as she grabbed her coat. "Drive safe, alright?"
"Always," she said, giving him a small wave as she headed for the door.
Sakura walked up to her SUV, digging her phone out of her pocket when it vibrated.
Tenten : OMG DID YOU SEE THE NEW EPISODE YET?!
Sakura smirked, already knowing exactly what she was talking about.
Sakura : No spoilers, I'm watching tonight!
Tenten : HURRY UP SO I CAN SCREAM ABOUT IT WITH YOU.
Sakura chuckled, about to open the door... when she saw something tucked beneath her windshield wiper.
Her stomach dropped. No way.
Yanking the paper free, her eyes darted over the text.
Parking Violation.
She blinked. Twice.
"Oh my..." Sakura swore under her breath. "Are you kidding me? I was over the limit by one minute."
Her gaze flicked up just in time to see the meter maid walking away down the sidewalk.
And—oh. She swore she saw the woman smirk.
Sakura's eye twitched. That bitch...
Grumbling, she crumpled the ticket in her hand and got into her car, tossing it onto the passenger seat.
She sighed as she started the engine. "Can't have shit in Konoha..."
Some days, the universe just had it out for her. With one last glare at the ticket, she drove off.
The apartment smelled of old cigarette smoke and dust but Itachi barely noticed any of it. He was seated at the cheap wooden table, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the spread of documents Fugaku had left behind. His father's handwriting filled the margins, notes and suspicions scribbled alongside printed reports and grainy photographs.
Most of it centered around one name.
Shimura Danzo.
The man had been a ghost long before their father died. Untouchable. Even with all this evidence staring him in the face, Itachi knew that nothing would come of it. The department had buried it. Either out of fear or convenience, Fugaku's work had died with him.
He reached for one of the binders, flipping it open with one hand. A paper clipped report detailed the financials of Six Paths Shipping Solutions—a transport agency suspected of being a front for methamphetamine smuggling.
Not suspected. Confirmed.
A quiet, humourless chuckle left his lips. No wonder their father had been killed.
The binder detailed everything—shipments, suspected drug routes, money laundering, falsified records. Methamphetamine smuggling. It was thorough. Enough to destroy Danzo if it ever saw the light of day. But the police had done nothing with it. Maybe some had tried, but they either got shut down, paid off, or buried before they got too close.
Danzo had ensured it never went anywhere.
His father had been thorough. It was all here, clear as day. Danzo had built an empire, and he had done it with police cooperation.
The weight of it pressed against Itachi's mind, suffocating. How many officers had looked at this evidence and done nothing? How many had chosen to look the other way?
His jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face.
Sasuke's voice rang in his ears. "No one's coming, no one gives a shit. We do what we have to or we get left behind."
He had dismissed it in the heat of the argument, too caught up in his frustration to consider it fully. But now, sitting alone in their shitty apartment, staring at proof of what had been done to their father—what was still being done—Itachi couldn't push the thought away.
It had been easy, for a while, to pretend like they could run. Find some way to disappear. Maybe in another life, that would have been possible. But in this one, they were already dead men walking.
The money Sasuke had stolen sat in his pocket, untouched. Enough to get by, but not for long.
He sighed, pulling out the wad of cash and setting it on the table.
This was their reality. Every moment they waited, the walls closed in. The warrant was probably already out. Itachi was marked. Sasuke was too reckless, too angry. It was only a matter of time before the cops came knocking.
Unless…
His fingers tapped against the tabletop as he stared at the cash, at the binders, at his father's notes.
Fight.
It wasn't the first time the thought had come to him. But now, for the first time, he wasn't dismissing it.
Danzo had built his empire off people like them. The vulnerable. The forgotten. The ones with no one to protect them. And then there was Chief Yamato. A man so deeply entrenched in Danzo's pockets that he might as well have been an extension of his will. Together, they had orchestrated Fugaku's downfall. Together, they had made sure justice would never come.
Unless someone forced their hand.
His grip tightened. What were Sasuke and Itachi Uchiha going to do about it?
His mind moved quickly, picking apart the information in front of him. Six Paths Shipping. If they wanted to strike at Danzo, this was a weak point. An operation too large to fail overnight, but with plenty of places to start picking apart.
It was dangerous. Reckless. Maybe even suicidal. But what choice did they have?
He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face.
This wasn't just about revenge anymore. It wasn't just about making Danzo pay. It was about survival. If they kept waiting for justice, they would die waiting.
Itachi thumbed the edge of the binder, his mind moving quickly. If the world was against them, then what loyalty did they owe it? The cops weren't going to help. The law wasn't going to help. No one was coming.
They had two choices: keep waiting to be killed, or fight back. The world had already taken everything from them.
It was time to take something back.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he pulled the cash back into his pocket.
Yeah. They were going to do something about it.
Sasuke sat still on Sakura's sofa, his arm resting on the armrest while she carefully unwound the bandage around his forearm. The fabric was slightly damp with antiseptic, the scent of it faint in the air. Her hands were gentle but firm, and though she didn't say it, he knew she had been worried.
"You're healing well," she murmured, focused on her work. "A few more days and you won't even need a bandage anymore."
Sasuke nodded, watching the way her brows furrowed slightly in concentration.
A silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was something Sasuke had grown used to with her—this quiet presence, never demanding, never overbearing. She was just there, always tending to his wounds, always caring.
He cleared his throat. "How was your day?"
Sakura blinked, glancing up at him, clearly caught off guard. "My day?"
Sasuke nodded.
"Oh," she said, hesitating for a moment. "Well… nothing exciting."
She went back to wrapping the fresh bandage around his arm, but after a beat, she continued, this time with more ease.
"I had coffee with my dad," she said, a soft smile crossing her lips. "We do that sometimes. He complains about work, I complain about classes, and we try to out-annoy each other."
Sasuke listened, watching as she talked, her expression shifting between nostalgia and exasperation. She talked about how they met up at their usual café, how her father complained about work but in a way that made her laugh. She told him about a parking ticket that had ruined her mood, about how the meter maid had definitely smirked at her, and how she had considered running after the woman to argue—though she hadn't.
Sasuke listened. Really listened.
It was rare these days to hear Sakura talk about her own life. Usually, she was asking about his—how he was holding up, how his wounds were healing, what trouble he had gotten himself into this time. But now, sitting here, hearing her voice fill the room with stories about her day, about her father, about something as mundane as a parking ticket—he felt a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
It was a warmth he hadn't felt anywhere else these days.
Not in their apartment, not in the streets, not even when he sat across from Itachi, going over their plans.
But here, with her, he could forget, even if just for a little while.
Sakura tied the bandage in place and sat back with a satisfied nod. "There. Good as new."
A lull settled between them when she finished. The warmth lingered, comforting yet fragile. Sakura's fingers brushed against his skin as she absent-mindedly secured the last piece of the bandage again, her touch softer than it needed to be. She swallowed, then glanced at him.
"… Would you like to stay for dinner again?" she asked quietly.
Sasuke considered it. He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't. But—
Sakura shifted slightly, leaning in just a bit, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "We could watch the game together."
Sasuke exhaled through his nose, barely suppressing the small, tired smile that tried to form.
Sakura noticed, her eyes brightening slightly. She always noticed.
He turned his head toward her, studying her face. The way her eyes crinkled slightly with amusement, the way her shoulders relaxed as if she already expected him to say yes.
But then his gaze lingered on her—really lingered. The way she was looking at him, the way she was so effortlessly kind, so willing to offer herself to him, to his presence, to his burdens.
His hand moved on its own, cupping her cheek.
Sakura stilled, then leaned into his touch, her lashes lowering slightly as she exhaled, her warmth seeping into his palm, into him.
But Sasuke saw it now.
She was smiling, but Sasuke could see the exhaustion in her eyes.
She had her own life. Her own dreams. Her own challenges.
And yet, he was here, pulling her into his mess.
His throat tightened.
Right now, what was he offering her other than another thing to worry about? Another weight on her shoulders? Another reason to stay up at night? It wasn't fair.
And then, the realization hit him—not sudden, but as heavy as ever.
He was holding her back.
Sakura shifted closer, whispering his name. He could feel her warmth seeping into him, healing him in ways he didn't deserve. She had spent so much time worrying about him, chasing after him, trying to fix things that weren't hers to fix. And she would keep doing it. She would keep giving and giving until there was nothing left.
His stomach twisted.
But then, his mind drifted. To Itachi. To what they had done. To what they were about to do.
The weapons they had purchased, the plans they had made, the blood they were about to spill.
Sasuke inhaled softly, his thumb stroking Sakura's cheek absently.
She deserved so much more than this. More than him. More than the hell he and Itachi were about to bring upon themselves.
She deserved happiness. A better happiness.
Sakura noticed the shift in his expression, the way his jaw clenched slightly. Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, something worried.
Of course. All she did was worry about him.
All day. Every day.
His chest ached, but he knew what he had to do. She deserved happiness. And he… he couldn't give her that.
His thumb brushed against her cheek, his gaze lingering on her pretty face, memorizing her, committing Sakura Haruno to memory.
Her eyes widened slightly, expectant. "Sasuke?" she murmured, shifting closer.
He felt it—her warmth. It healed something in him, just a little. But it wouldn't be enough. Not in the long run. Not when he was already so far gone.
A sad, defeated smile crossed his lips as he said, "Sakura."
She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah?"
He exhaled. "Thank you."
She blinked, confused by the shift in his tone. "For what?"
"For everything," he said simply.
There was a pause, and then he forced himself to say the words he never thought he'd have to.
"You can't see me again."
Sakura's breath hitched. "What…?"
He swallowed, standing up from the couch. The warmth of her touch left his skin as he took a step back. "Goodbye, Sakura."
He turned away before he could see her reaction. Before he could see the look in her eyes.
"Sasuke... wait."
He ignored the footsteps behind him, the sound of her moving quickly to follow. Then, her hand caught his wrist.
Her fingers tightened around him, grounding him. She wasn't trying to pull him back. She was just… holding him there.
"Sasuke," she said again, softer this time. She wasn't demanding, wasn't pleading. She just… wanted to understand. "What's wrong?"
He turned slightly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were wide, full of confusion and something else—something deeper, something he didn't deserve.
"Tell me what's wrong," she said, her fingers tightening around him. "Just tell me."
He swallowed. She deserved better.
Gently, he freed himself from her hold, lowering her hand back to her side.
"Let me go," he said, forcing his voice to stay steady.
Sakura's lips parted slightly, her fingers curling where his wrist had been. He could see the confusion, the hurt flickering across her face. It killed something in him.
His next words were quiet, but firm.
"Be happy," he said. "You deserve that."
She shook her head, "Sasuke—"
"I can't give that to you. Not now."
The words felt like lead on his tongue.
Before she could say anything else, before he could lose his resolve, he opened the door and stepped through.
"Sasuke—!"
He shut it behind him.
He stood there for a moment, inhaling deeply, his hand lingering on the doorknob.
From the other side, he could hear her footsteps—hesitant, lingering.
He forced himself to step away, to walk down the neat corridor, his chest aching.
This was for the best. For her sake.
And yet… there were few things he had felt that were as painful.
"This is the right choice," he murmured, as if willing himself to believe. "The only choice..."
But why did it feel like he had just lost something he would never get back?