1 month later...
The sky stretched dull and overcast above them as Sasuke and Itachi walked side by side, heads down, moving with quiet determination. The streets around them were busy, people going about their day, oblivious to what was about to happen. It had been a month since they had accepted Sakura into their team after her father's disappearance.
Itachi had insisted on lying low for a while. They needed to prepare. Rushing into things was how people got caught—or worse, killed. In the past weeks, they trained harder than ever. Sasuke had picked up a lot, at least as much as Itachi himself could teach him. He had grown sharper, faster. Reckless, too. There was a fire in him now that burned hotter than before.
Impulsive. Bold. Braver than Itachi ever was at that age. Itachi wasn't sure yet if that was a good or bad thing.
Sasuke coughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his eyes darting around the street as they walked. A maroon Hyundai Sonata rolled past them. Itachi barely tilted his head, but his eyes caught a glimpse of the driver.
Sakura.
Even behind the wheel, she had a steady presence, barely looking at them before continuing down the street. She knew the plan. Keep circling the block for the next five minutes, ready for the pickup. They weren't throwing her in the fire yet. She was new, but she was learning. Fast.
Itachi straightened his posture slightly, his mind flashing back to their training sessions. She had something to offer, admittedly. The medical skills were the most obvious asset, but what had caught Itachi off guard was when they first took her to a secluded range to practice shooting.
Sakura was good. No—she was terrifyingly good at shooting.
Stationary targets, moving targets, strafing, precision aiming—she hit her mark at least seventy-five percent of the time. Itachi had been watching her closely the past weeks, studying the way she handled the weapon, the way her hands didn't shake, the way she lined up her shots with confidence.
He remembered the moment she decided to show off.
Sakura had adjusted her grip on the Glock, lining up ten bottles on a log. She fired, one after another, knocking down eight with perfect accuracy. Then, just before taking her next shot, she turned her head away, shielding her eyes with her free hand.
"Check it out, no-look!" she had called out to Sasuke.
Itachi had watched, unimpressed—until she nailed the ninth bottle.
She missed the tenth. But still.
Sasuke had chuckled, folding his arms. "Are you serious? What the hell, are you born with aimbot installed?"
Sakura had smirked. "My dad used to take me shooting when I was younger."
That explained some of it. But only some.
Skill like that didn't come from just a few childhood lessons. Itachi didn't comment, but he took note of it. Shooting at bottles was one thing. Keeping a steady hand in a real firefight was another. And that was something they hadn't tested yet.
Now, today was the test.
The pawnshop was just a block ahead. It was a small, nondescript place, tucked between a laundromat and a liquor store. The kind of place most people walked past without giving a second glance.
They knew the security was light. Just one armed guard. The real problem was how fast they could alert the cops. Itachi was banking on a response time of at least seven minutes, but they only needed five.
He checked his watch. 12:20 PM.
He exhaled. "Buckle up."
Sasuke nodded, pulling up his bandana over the lower half of his face. Itachi did the same, his own mask covering his expression. He adjusted his grip on the handgun in his jacket, feeling the weight of it settle in his palm.
Five minutes. No turning back.
The moment Sasuke and Itachi stepped through the pawnshop's door, a bell above them jingled softly.
Two men stood behind the counter, an older man with graying hair and a younger one with sharp, watchful eyes. Both greeted them with neutral expressions, though the warmth in their voices faded the instant they noticed the bandanas covering Sasuke and Itachi's faces.
The older man's gaze darted to the side—and Itachi saw it.
His eyes flicked toward the security guard standing a few feet away, near a glass display case filled with watches. The man's hand was already moving, fingers brushing the grip of the pistol holstered at his hip.
Not a chance.
Itachi moved before the guard could even think of drawing, lunging forward in a blur. His hand caught the man's wrist, twisting it sharply behind his back. The guard let out a strangled grunt of pain as Itachi slammed him face-first into the floor, pressing his knee into his spine.
Sasuke had his gun out in an instant. He pointed it straight at the shopkeepers.
"Hands up! Now!" His voice was a snarl, cold and laced with fury. "I swear to God, if you move an inch, I'll fucking shoot you!"
The two men raised their hands slowly, expressions tense.
Itachi reached down and yanked the pistol from the guard's holster, tucking it into his waistband. "Out from behind the counter," he ordered, his voice steady.
The younger shopkeeper hesitated for a second too long. Sasuke took a step forward, gun aimed squarely at his chest.
"He said move!"
That got him going. Both men shuffled out, keeping their hands where Sasuke could see them.
Itachi gestured toward the ground. "Lay down. Hands on your heads."
They obeyed, pressing their foreheads to the scuffed floor. The guard groaned beneath him, but Itachi didn't let up the pressure. He checked his watch.
One minute passed.
Sasuke shifted slightly, still keeping the gun trained on them. His grip was firm, unwavering. He was ready for anything.
"No one gets hurt if you cooperate," Itachi said calmly. "Just do as we say, and you'll walk away from this."
One of the shopkeepers—the older one—nodded stiffly. But the younger one? He wasn't having it.
He pushed himself up slightly. "No," he said.
Sasuke's gun snapped toward his face. "You wanna say that again?"
"I said no." The man's voice was even. He wasn't panicked. He wasn't afraid. "I don't give a shit who you are. You're not walking out of here with our money."
Itachi clenched his jaw, glancing between the two men on the ground and this stubborn idiot. His pulse quickened. This was wasting time.
Two minutes passed.
The man still didn't budge. He sat there, arms down, glaring at them with defiance. Itachi could see the frustration in Sasuke's eyes. And then—
CRACK.
Sasuke's arm lashed out in a blur, the butt of his pistol smashing into the man's temple. The shopkeeper's head snapped to the side before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
For a second, there was silence.
Then Sasuke exhaled through his nose and looked at Itachi. His brother met his gaze and ahook his head.
They didn't have time for this.
Sasuke turned without a word and moved toward the cash register. He flipped it open, fingers working quickly as he grabbed the stacks of bills inside. It wasn't much—maybe a couple thousand—but they weren't leaving empty-handed.
He moved swiftly, grabbing anything valuable within reach. Watches, jewelry, anything small and expensive. He shoved them into a bag, fingers quick and precise.
Itachi checked his watch. Two minutes left.
"Move." He didn't use Sasuke's name. Didn't have to. Sasuke knew.
Sasuke stuffed the last handful of rings into the bag, then turned to their second plan. Burn it down.
Itachi pulled the keys from the unconscious shopkeeper's pocket and tossed them. Sasuke caught them mid-air, spinning on his heel and striding toward the storage room.
A quick turn of the key, and the door clicked open.
Inside, rows of shelves lined the walls, filled with electronics, furniture, and unopened boxes of goods. Sasuke didn't waste a second. He grabbed the container they came with and dumped lighter fluid everywhere.
The stench filled the room instantly. He pulled open a window—j ust enough for the fire to breathe.
Then, with a flick of his lighter...
WHOOSH!
Flames erupted, crawling along the shelves, eating through the merchandise like it was paper. The fire spread fast, fueled by the alcohol bottles stored in the corner. Heat licked at Sasuke's face as he turned and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.
He moved fast, rejoining Itachi in the front. The fire would take a few minutes to spread through the rest of the storage room and possibly the store, but by then, they'd be long gone.
Thirty seconds left.
Itachi kept his gun trained on the men on the floor. He glanced toward the window. Then, in the distance, A maroon Hyundai came into view.
He exhaled through his nose. Right on time.
The car slowed as it neared, Sakura keeping it steady. Itachi gave the signal. A quick flick of his wrist. Without hesitation, he and Sasuke moved, slipping through the door and into the waiting car.
12:00 pm
At his desk, Naruto Uzumaki stretched his arms over his head, cracking his back. Lunch break. Finally.
The bullpen of Konoha's Major Crimes Division was alive with the usual midday chaos. Phones rang, keyboards clacked, and voices overlapped in conversations ranging from case discussions to weekend plans... or lunch plans in this case.
He pushed his chair back and stood, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, I'm heading out. Anyone want anything?"
"Yeah," Choji said immediately, raising a hand. "Get me a box of doughnuts from that café on 5th Avenue," he proclaimed, like he was passing a decree.
Across the room, Ino snorted loudly, barely looking up from her computer. "Oh, wow. Real original, Choji. Reinforce the stereotype, why don't you?"
Choji didn't even flinch. He just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Stereotypes exist for a reason. You think cops eat doughnuts because of some government conspiracy? No. They eat them because they're good."
Naruto laughed. "You're not wrong, but 5th Avenue? Hell no. That's too far for a damn doughnut run."
Choji scowled. "It's literally a ten-minute drive."
"Yeah? Well, I'm not driving ten minutes for a box of sugar when there's a pizza place down the block." Naruto stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket. "I'll grab a few pies, and whatever stands out to me."
Across the room, Shikamaru—seated at his desk with the posture of a man carrying the weight of the entire Konoha justice system—let out a quiet, "Yeah, pizza works."
The rest of the team nodded in agreement.
Except Choji. He made a face, full-on disgusted. "Pizza? That slop?"
Naruto squinted at him. "Slop? It's pizza. It's the most reliable meal of all time."
Choji crossed his arms. "Not interested."
Naruto huffed. "Alright, then. I'll get you pizza anyway. And you're gonna eat it. Or—you can get your big ass off your chair, drive the eight million fucking kilometres down to 5th Avenue, and get your own damn doughnuts."
Ino finally looked away from her screen to point at Choji. "Damn right."
Choji opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Shikamaru sat up slightly, scratching his chin. "Actually, you know what? I'll take doughnuts too."
Choji straightened, immediately smug as he tilted his head toward Naruto and Ino.
Naruto groaned. "Goddammit."
Before the argument could escalate, Sai—who had been quietly sketching something on a legal pad—suddenly sat up.
"Don't worry about it," he said pleasantly. "I'll grab lunch."
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Sai stood, already reaching for his coat. "I don't mind making the drive to 5th Avenue."
Choji grinned. "Sai, you are a saint."
Shikamaru leaned back in his chair. "You're patient is what you are. That's a troublesome drive just for doughnuts."
Sai just shrugged. "I wanted the coffee there anyway."
At this, Ino suddenly stopped typing. She turned, finally giving Sai her full attention. "You know… you have a point. Coffee sounds great right now."
Sai leaned forward slightly. "Do you want anything else?"
Ino smiled. And not just any smile—the kind of smile that made Naruto and Shikamaru exchange immediate, knowing looks.
"Just coffee is fine," she said, batting her lashes.
Sai nodded, giving her a small, polite smile. "Alright, beautiful."
Shikamaru sighed. Naruto rubbed his temples. Here we go...
"Oh for fuck's sake," Naruto muttered.
Shikamaru shook his head. "You guys aren't even subtle about it anymore."
Sai tilted his head. "Subtle about what?"
"Oh, nothing," Naruto said sarcastically. "You just openly flirt in front of us like we're not here."
Sai blinked. "I wasn't flirting."
Naruto shot a look at Ino. "You see this shit?"
Ino rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, like you're in any position to talk."
Naruto frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Like you don't lock your office door and twirl the phone line whenever miss what's-her-name calls you," she said, smirking.
Shikamaru chuckled. "She's got a point, FNG."
Naruto scowled. "Don't call me FNG."
Shikamaru shrugged. "You are somehow more pathetic than Ino and Sai, and I don't even know how you manage it."
Choji smirked. "I do. It's a gift."
Naruto sighed, rubbing his face. "I hate all of you."
"No, you don't."
"Yeah, I do."
Sai slipped on his coat, looking completely unbothered. "Alright, I'll be back soon."
As he headed out, Naruto shook his head, muttering, "This man really just volunteered to drive across town for doughnuts."
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, tilting his chair back again. "Troublesome."
Naruto sighed and waved them off, heading back to his desk. "I swear, I need new coworkers."
12:26 pm...
Sai stepped out of the café, a bag of takeout in one hand, a coffee tray in the other.
He let out a small sigh as he glanced at his watch. Twenty-five minutes. That was how long he'd spent driving here, standing in line, waiting for the food, and now heading back.
Naruto and Shikamaru had a point, it was a hassle. But whatever. He had already made the trip. He just hoped the coffee would still be hot by the time he—
Something suddenly caught his attention. Two men exiting the pawnshop across the street.
They walked briskly, moving with purpose. One of them carried a duffel bag. Sai slowed his pace near his car—an unmarked dark blue sedan—his eyes scanning the pair. Something was off.
The second man, wearing a hoodie, tucked something inside it.
Sai's expression didn't change, but his mind sharpened. His gaze flicked to the pawnshop door, just before it swung shut. Through the glass, he glimpsed three blurry figures on the ground.
"Shit."
Sai set the food down on his hood and adjusted his stance, his hand hovering near his belt. His suit jacket concealed his badge and firearm, but any experienced criminal would recognize the stance of a cop.
He called out. "Hey!"
The two men froze.
The taller one—the one not carrying the bag—lifted his head. Sai met dark, intelligent eyes. And in that moment, Sai knew. He knows I'm a cop.
The taller man, Itachi Uchiha, barely hesitated. He shifted his gaze to the street, where a maroon Hyundai was slowing down for them—their getaway car.
He turned toward his partner. "Sasuke, get in the—"
But Sasuke wasn't listening. He spun, ripped out his pistol, and opened fire.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sai dove for cover as the first shots cracked through the air, his back hitting his car.
Screams erupted around him. Civilians scattered. People bolted down the sidewalk, ducking behind parked cars. Traffic screeched as drivers slammed on their brakes, some trying to reverse away, others flooring it to escape.
Glass shattered from a parked sedan as a bullet ripped through a windshield.
Sai sucked in a breath, keeping low. That bastard just shot at a cop in broad daylight. He shifted, peering over his engine block. Sasuke stood firm, gun raised, expression calm. His shots were deliberate—not panicked, not rushed.
Sai didn't hesitate. He pulled his own gun, took a breath, and returned fire.
BANG! BANG!
The gunshots echoed through the progressively emptying streets. Sasuke snapped back, dodging behind a parked car as sparks flew off the street.
The maroon Hyundai rolled up beside them. Itachi yanked the door open, shoving the duffel inside. "We need to go. Now."
Sasuke dumped more rounds into Sai's car, bullets sparking against the hood before finally slipping into the Hyundai.
The door slammed shut. Tyres screeched as it's driver floored it.
Sai pushed off his car, shoving his gun back into his holster. "Goddammit." He grabbed the food off the hood, tossed it onto his front seat, and jumped in. The second his seatbelt clicked, his hand slammed onto the dashboard light switch. Red and blue grille lights flared on.
He yanked the car into gear. The engine roared.
His free hand went to the radio. "Dispatch, this is Detective Sai, badge 104. I have an active armed robbery at Pawn Central on 5th Avenue—suspects in a maroon Hyundai, headed east on Ninth. I'm in pursuit, requesting backup."
In the Hyundai, Sakura gripped the steering wheel tight, her heart pounding.
The city blurred past them, buildings flying by as she weaved through traffic. The sedan roared down the four-lane street, slipping between honking cars.
Behind them, the sound of sirens whooped. She glanced at the mirror. The cop was still on them.
She cursed under her breath. "He's still following."
Sasuke exhaled through his nose. "Dammit."
"Yeah, no shit," Itachi muttered. He kept his eyes on the side mirror, his calm expression betraying his frustration. "You shouldn't have opened fire."
Sasuke turned slightly. "What?"
"You heard me."
"That guy was gonna stop us." Sasuke's grip on his pistol was still firm. "I handled it."
Itachi shot him a sharp look. "You escalated it."
"Oh, so what? You wanted him to walk over and ask for our fucking names?" Sasuke's voice was filled with irritation.
Sakura raises her voice slightly. "Will you two shut up?"
Silence filled the car for a beat—except for the screaming engine and the blaring siren behind them. Itachi pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to think.
"This guy isn't backing off," Sakura said, eyes flicking between lanes.
Itachi exhaled. They needed to lose him before backup arrived.
Sakura gritted her teeth, twisted the steering wheel as the Hyundai tore through the city streets, weaving through traffic at nearly a hundred kilometres per hour.
The siren behind them never wavered. Sai's unmarked sedan stayed glued to their bumper, its grille lights flashing blue and red, the blare of the sirens echoing off the windows of passing storefronts.
Sakura's heart slammed in her chest as she swerved between cars, some pulling aside when they heard the siren... others not moving fast enough.
"Goddamn it," she hissed, her hands twitching on the wheel as she barely missed a Toyota Corolla, scraping past it by inches.
Behind them, Sai stayed steady. Unrelenting.
"Shit," Sasuke muttered. "He's not letting up."
"He's good," Itachi admitted. "We need to lose him. Now."
Sakura clenched her jaw. "I'm doing my best, okay? Maybe don't distract the driver!"
The Hyundai screamed through an intersection just as the light turned red. A minivan skidded to a stop, its tyres screeching, barely missing their rear bumper.
But Sai's sedan blew through right behind them.
Sakura checked the mirror. He's still there.
Sasuke growled under his breath. "I'm ending this." Before Itachi could stop him, Sasuke rolled down the window, leaned out, and raised his pistol.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire rang out, splitting the air.
Pedestrians screamed, some diving behind parked cars, others bolting into buildings. Traffic jerked to a halt as drivers panicked, some nearly crashing in their rush to escape.
Sai flinched as a bullet pinged off his hood.
He jerked the wheel, throwing the car into evasive maneuvers, zigzagging between lanes. But even as he moved, he stayed on them.
"Fucker won't quit," Sasuke snarled, firing again.
Sakura snapped her eyes to him. "Are you insane?! Do not shoot while I'm driving!"
"We don't have a choice, Sakura!" Sasuke shouted back.
"Oh, we have a choice," she gritted out. "Hang the hell on!"
Before anyone could argue, she yanked the e-brake and spun the wheel. The Hyundai swung hard onto another street—a narrow avenue.
The rear end clipped a parking meter, then scraped a roadside railing, metal screeching against metal as the entire car shuddered violently.
Sasuke cursed, bracing himself against the dashboard. "What the hell?!"
"I've got it," Sakura hissed.
Behind them, Sai saw the maneuver and twisted his wheel, following them. His sedan veered into the oncoming lane, dodging a speeding pickup truck by mere inches.
His heart leapt into his throat. No time to think.
He wrenched the wheel again, sending the car up onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians screamed as they darted out of the way.
Sai's eyes locked onto the Hyundai across the street. "Move," he muttered under his breath.
His siren wailed, and—thankfully—some cars jerked aside, giving him just enough space to merge back onto the road.
But as soon as he did, Sasuke leaned out again... and opened fire.
BANG! BANG!
Sai threw his car into a skid. The first bullet grazed his side mirror, spinning it away in shards of glass. The second plowed into his windshield, leaving a spiderweb of cracks.
Sai gritted his teeth, his pulse pounding. He snatched his radio. "Shots fired! Suspects armed and dangerous—still in pursuit!"
He dropped the mic, grabbed his pistol, and fired two shots back, the bullets slamming into the Hyundai's trunk.
Ahead, Sakura's grip wavered slightly. "Still on us," she muttered, checking the mirror.
Itachi let out a long breath. "Is this guy the fucking Terminator?"
Sasuke scoffed. "Wish we brought more firepower."
"If we don't lose him now," Itachi said, "he'll lead backup straight to us."
Sakura blew out a sharp breath. "Where do you want me to go?"
"Get out of this precinct," Itachi ordered. "Before we get caged in."
"Copy that."
She slammed the gas, heading for the main expressway. Sai's car followed, gaining on them. He took another shot.
BANG!
A bullet punched through the Hyundai's rear window, narrowly missing Sakura and Sasuke.
Sasuke swore, checking his firearm. "I'm out."
Itachi checked his mag. "One magazine left."
But then Sai's sedan pulled alongside them, windows nearly parallel. He aimed his gun at them with one hand, and fired three shots.
Bullets tore through the Hyundai's doors, barely missing the occupants inside. Sakura's heart hammered, but she scowled.
"Okay, I've had enough of this asshole."
Itachi shot her a look. "Sakura—"
"I have an idea."
She thrust out her hand. "Sasuke, my gun. Dashboard. Now."
Sasuke hesitated. "Wait, what?"
"Now!"
He yanked open the compartment and grabbed the gun, tossing it to her.
"Take the wheel," she ordered.
Sasuke's eyes widened. "What?!"
She let go.
"Fuck!" Sasuke lunged forward, grabbing the wheel, fighting to keep the car in a straight line as Sakura leaned out the passenger window, arms steady. The Police car began lagging slightly until it was behind the Hyundai again.
She squared her aim... and fired.
BANG!
The bullet obliterated Sai's side mirror.
She adjusted—fired again.
The round sliced through Sai's window. Sai flinched, nearly losing control.
A return shot pinged off the Hyundai's side mirror, shattering it.
Itachi cursed. "This is getting out of hand."
Sakura ignored him, lining up another shot.
BANG!
The bullet punched through Sai's windshield. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—red bloomed.
Sai's body slumped forward. His sedan drifted aimlessly.
The Hyundai's occupants watched in silence as Sai's car swerved off course, then crashed into a parked SUV.
Metal crunched, glass shattered, and the SUV's alarm blared.
Sasuke let out a slow breath. "Holy shit."
Sakura swallowed hard. Her hands shook as she retook the wheel.
Itachi wasted no time. "Head to the lot," he ordered. "We switch cars. Now."
Sakura nodded.
No one spoke as they drove on, leaving chaos in their wake
Danzo sat on the porch of his vast mansion, a crystal glass of whiskey clutched tightly in his weathered hand. A warm breeze carried the scent of pine and freshly cut grass, but it did nothing to ease his temper. His jaw clenched as he took a slow sip, the liquor burning down his throat, though not nearly enough to temper the fire raging inside him.
The news had come not long ago. The pawnshop—the one nestled in a quiet corner of the district, one of the many inconspicuous businesses laundering his money—had been hit. Looted. Worse, most of the goods inside had been burnt to shit, along with any evidence that might have been useful to track down the culprits.
Danzo exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay composed.
Not once, but twice in two months. First, the meth shipment. Now this.
His thick fingers flexed around the glass, his grip tightening to the point where the fine crystal almost cracked under the pressure. This wasn't just some desperate junkies or low-level crooks looking for a payday. No, this was something else entirely.
Calculated. Premeditated.
Someone was deliberately taking bites out of his empire, methodically chipping away at his foundations like termites burrowing into a grand structure.
Danzo closed his eye, inhaling through his nose. He had built this empire from nothing, brick by bloodstained brick. It had survived wars in the underworld, betrayals, and countless rivals who thought they could be the ones to take his throne. And now, someone was challenging him.
The question was... who?
He had enemies, of course. That came with the territory. But none of them had ever been this brazen. None of them were foolish enough to strike him so openly. Because they knew what happened to those who did.
And yet…
Danzo gritted his teeth.
The last time he felt this kind of creeping unease was years ago, when the Iwa Cartel had tried to muscle their way into his operations. That had ended with bodies in the river and a message that left the remaining members too scared to even whisper his name.
Whoever was doing this now… they weren't afraid.
A soft rustling behind him made Danzo glance over his shoulder. His right-hand man, Torune, stepped forward, his expression unreadable, his suit as crisp as always despite the afternoon heat. A man of few words, but Danzo trusted him more than anyone else.
Torune's voice was quiet but firm. "We're running down leads. Nothing solid yet."
Danzo's fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair. "This isn't some random hit," he muttered. "Someone's sending a message."
Torune gave a slight nod, his eyes betraying the same concern Danzo felt. "The pawnshop was a statement. It wasn't just about money."
Danzo exhaled through his nose, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He already knew that much. He could understand a simple robbery—those happened from time to time. But torching the place? That was personal.
"Any movement from Kizashi?" Danzo asked, his voice low.
Homura hesitated. And that hesitation was enough.
Danzo let out a slow sigh, leaning back in his chair. When he had held Kizashi a month ago, when his men had brought him in after the meth shipment debacle, there had been whispers. Suspicions that Kizashi had a hand in the hit.
Some of his men had suggested keeping him alive, watching from the shadows to see if another attack would come. A test of sorts. If the attacks stopped, then maybe Kizashi really had just been caught in a bad spot.
For a while, things had been quiet.
But now?
Danzo's fingers tightened around his glass again. He had been fond of Kizashi once. The man had been useful, loyal—until he wasn't.
And now, whether he was truly guilty or not, an example had to be made.
Danzo sighed, finishing the last of his drink. The amber liquid left a lingering burn on his tongue.
A storm was coming. He could feel it in his bones. And if someone wanted a war…
They were about to get one.
Danzo walked into the safehouse, his polished shoes echoing against the floorboards. It was an old, run-down building on the outskirts of the state, nestled deep in the industrial district where no one cared to look. Poorly lit, air thick with dust, the scent of mildew clinging to the wooden beams. The place was cold, its walls damp from years of neglect.
His men followed closely behind, their presence looming in the small, cluttered room. In the center, bound to a chair with thick rope, was Kizashi Haruno.
His head hung low, messy pink hair matted with sweat. His clothes were filthy, torn from the days he had spent locked away. His wrists were raw from the bindings, his breathing shallow. At the sound of footsteps, he lifted his head, blinking against the dim light.
Danzo stopped in front of him, hands tucked into the folds of his long coat. He exhaled, slow and measured, before offering a smirk.
"Kizashi."
Kizashi swallowed hard, his throat dry. "... Danzo."
Danzo pulled a nearby chair and sat across from him, relaxing into the seat as if they were old friends catching up. He tilted his head, studying Kizashi's haggard face.
"You might be vindicated after all," Danzo mused, almost amused. "Seems you weren't conspiring to siphon off my wealth… at least, not any more than you already were."
Kizashi's breath hitched. He licked his cracked lips, shifting slightly in his restraints. "Danzo, I swear... I didn't set anything up. I don't know who hit your businesses. I don't know anything."
Danzo watched him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Then he sighed, shaking his head.
"Kizashi… Kizashi," he murmured, almost disappointed. "I would love to believe you. I really would. But the problem is…" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Someone is out there making very deliberate moves against me. And it just so happens that ever since I took you off the board, my businesses have been getting hit."
"That proves it's not me!" Kizashi's voice cracked with desperation. "Please, Danzo, I don't know anything! I wouldn't—"
Danzo clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Tsk, tsk, tsk… You see, I can't just let this go."
Kizashi's chest rose and fell rapidly. He knew what was coming. He tried to steel himself, but his body betrayed him—he trembled. "Please," he whispered. "I'll make it right. Just tell me what I have to do."
Danzo leaned back in his chair, pulling a cigarette from his coat. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, the small flame briefly illuminating his face. He took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before chuckling.
"You know," he mused, "before all this, you wanted to buy a birthday gift for your daughter, ain't that right?"
Kizashi froze.
Danzo smiled, shaking his head. "You could've just asked, Kizashi. I might've been generous." He took another drag, letting the words hang in the air. Then, his expression darkened. "Unfortunately for you, today isn't your day."
Kizashi's breathing quickened. He felt the shift, the way Danzo's voice grew heavier, final. But it wasn't fear for himself that made his blood run cold.
It was what Danzo said next.
"Now little Sakura is part of the mess you've made."
Kizashi's eyes went wide. "No," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Danzo, please—"
Danzo huffed, rolling his shoulders. "Did you know," he said conversationally, "that she filed a police report? Looking for you?"
Kizashi stiffened.
Danzo chuckled, shaking his head. "Tch. Your daughter isn't very smart, is she?"
Kizashi sucked in a shaky breath. "She's just a kid, she doesn't know any better!"
Danzo tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "And whose fault is that?" His voice was calm, but his gaze was ice. "Do you know what your mistake was, Kizashi?"
Kizashi clenched his teeth, his entire body locked in panic.
Danzo leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You were sloppy. Reckless." He sighed, taking another slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke in Kizashi's face. "I do wonder why I surround myself with people who do half-assed jobs."
He straightened, brushing a bit of ash from his sleeve. "No matter," he said. "This time, I won't leave any loose ends."
He turned slightly, flicking the cigarette to the ground before grinding it under his heel. "I'm going to kill you," he said simply. "And then… I'll find your daughter."
Kizashi shook, pure terror overtaking him. "No! Please, Danzo, don't touch her! I'll pay you back—I'll get you your money!"
Danzo arched a brow. "Oh?" He tapped a finger against his chin. "And where exactly are you going to get the money, Kizashi? Hm?"
Kizashi had no answer.
Danzo exhaled slowly. "That's what I thought." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Though… you may be onto something."
Kizashi's breathing was erratic, panicked. "What?"
Danzo smirked. "Your daughter, Sakura. I've seen the young lady before, you know."
Kizashi froze.
Danzo continued, his voice turning almost lazy. "She's… she's a looker, isn't she?"
Kizashi twisted against the ropes, his face twisting in rage. "NO!"
Danzo chuckled. "Relax. I'm only thinking out loud." He rolled his shoulders. "I know a few guys who'd pay top dollar for her. Maybe even enough to cover what you lost me." He tapped his chin. "Hm. Maybe I should consider it—"
"NO!" Kizashi snapped, his voice raw with desperation. "Don't you lay a finger on her!"
Danzo straightened, stretching slightly. "Okay then." He turned to one of his men, extending his hand.
A Colt 1911 was placed into his palm.
"Plan A it is."
Kizashi's breathing turned ragged. "No, no, please—"
Danzo rose from his chair, the gun hanging loosely at his side. He gave Kizashi one last look. "You know, Kizashi… I'm actually disappointed in you."
Kizashi gritted his teeth, his face twisting in anger, in grief. "I wish I never sold you my business!" His voice cracked, raw with hatred. "Never worked for you! If I could go back, I'd—"
Danzo smirked. "That's too damn bad."
The gunshot rang out, echoing in the small room. Kizashi slumped forward, blood splattering across the floor.
Danzo exhaled through his nose, handing the gun back to his man. "Get rid of the body," he said, his voice flat. He turned on his heel, heading for the exit.
As he stepped outside, the evening air was cool against his face. But his mind was elsewhere.
Sakura Haruno. Another loose end. Another one.
Then, his thoughts shifted to the pawnshop. He scowled. "Yamato better give me some fucking results soon."
Sasuke took another swig of the scotch, letting the burn settle in his chest before exhaling slowly. The dim lighting of the safehouse did little to soften the raw tension that still clung to the air from the previous day's job. Itachi was right—they had the money now, but that was only the beginning. More weapons, more resources, more everything was needed if they were going to make it out of this alive.
And getting in contact with the right supplier? That was a problem for another day.
For now, he wandered the halls of the safehouse, rolling the bottle in his hand as he walked. It wasn't much of a place, just a run-down hideout with peeling walls and creaking floors, but it was theirs.
He slowed when he reached the main room, where the window stretched open to a darkening sky. And there she was.
Sakura sat there, her body relaxed but her eyes far away, lost in a place only she knew. She'd taken to sitting by that window more often lately, but today, Sasuke had a good guess as to why.
She'd shot a cop. Maybe even killed him.
Sasuke sighed, shaking his head. He pushed forward, footsteps light but intentional. At the sound, Sakura blinked and turned her head. A small, fleeting smile tugged at her lips, barely there, but warm enough to make something shift inside him. He ignored the feeling, just as he always did, and settled down beside her, resting the bottle between his knees.
He tilted it towards her in offering. "Drink?" he asked.
Sakura huffed a quiet laugh and shook her head. "I'm good."
"Shame," Sasuke mused, taking another sip. "You'd probably need it more than me after yesterday."
She chuckled, the sound dry but genuine. Sasuke let the silence stretch between them for a while, the two of them just watching the city through the dusty window.
Then, without looking at him, Sakura finally spoke. "I killed someone yesterday."
Her voice was low, almost fragile. Sasuke sighed, closing his eyes for a second.
Of course.
"I know how hard it can be," he started, his voice careful. "Itachi always says the first time is—"
"I'm not sitting here because I'm sad about it," Sakura cut in. "Or because I'm in shock."
Sasuke blinked.
Sakura lowered her gaze, fingers twisting in her lap. "I should be, right?" she murmured. "But all I feel is… accomplishment."
She lifted her head and met his gaze, and for the first time, he saw it—the quiet, simmering satisfaction beneath her unease. She wasn't grieving what she'd done. She was relieved.
"I feel like I made progress," she admitted, voice trembling slightly. "Like I finally did something. Like I stuck it to whoever killed my father, even just a little bit."
She hesitated, swallowing hard. Then, in a softer tone, "Is that right? Is that… normal? Or am I just going insane?"
Sasuke's fingers curled around the neck of the bottle. A month ago, the girl sitting next to him would've been horrified at the thought of taking a life. Now, she was grappling with a version of herself she didn't recognize. And Sasuke?
Sasuke wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
He exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "The guy you shot," he said slowly, "was part of the system that covered up your father's murder. The system that put a marker on Itachi and me for the crime of existing. The same system that protects men like Danzo and keeps everyone else under their boot."
He met her eyes, voice steady. "It's hard to go after the king without cutting down some pawns."
Sakura tilted her head slightly. "That's bleak," she murmured.
"It's the truth."
Sakura studied him, then let out a quiet sigh. Then, almost hesitantly, she asked, "Have you ever killed before?"
Sasuke was silent. Then, he shook his head. "No," he admitted. "Not yet."
He glanced at her, lips quirking wryly. "I've tried, though, so I'm not exactly a saint."
Sakura hummed, considering that. Then, without warning, she nudged his shoulder.
"Well," she said lightly, "whenever you do, I'll be there to help you through any bumps you might have. I'll try to do a better job than you just did, at least."
Sasuke scoffed, rolling his eyes as she grinned at him, teasing. The tension loosened just a bit.
For a while, they sat there in quiet understanding, side by side, gazing out at a world that no longer had a place for them.
Sasuke exhaled through his nose. "You did good yesterday."
Sakura turned to look at him, brow slightly raised, as if checking if she heard him right.
He met her gaze. "You did good," he repeated, more firmly this time. "Pulled your weight."
She didn't say anything at first, just watched him, searching for something. Then, after a beat, she gave a small nod.
Sasuke tapped his fingers against the glass bottle. "I wasn't exactly comfortable with you joining us in the shop," he admitted. "I was glad when I heard you'd just be the getaway driver."
Sakura's expression didn't change, but he caught the briefest flicker of something in her eyes.
"But as fate would have it," he continued, his tone dry, "you still ended up in a shootout. Grabbing a gun yourself."
He let the words hang between them.
Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't think I can handle myself?"
Sasuke shook his head immediately. "It's not like that."
She tilted her head slightly. "Then what is it?"
He hesitated before replying, his voice quieter. "I just didn't want you getting into that much danger. Not on your first job."
Sakura's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, suddenly, she stood up, her posture firm, her eyes sharp. "I can handle myself, Sasuke. You don't have to worry about me."
He sighed. "It's not about that. I just didn't want you to..." His voice trailed off.
Sakura's gaze softened. He didn't have to finish for her to understand.
She studied him for a moment before nodding. "I appreciate your concern," she said, voice steady. "But like I said—you don't need to worry about me. We're in this together."
Then, as if to lighten the mood, she shrugged. "Though, in hindsight, maybe it's good you worry about me. That way, I can be concerned about you too." A playful smirk tugged at her lips. "Though I wonder... who's going to lose sleep worrying about Itachi?"
Sasuke sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "I don't worry about you. Don't give yourself that much importance."
Sakura raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? You sure about that?"
Sasuke didn't reply immediately. He shifted his gaze away, and that was all the answer she needed.
Her heart pounded. Is he…?
She stepped closer, eyes locked onto his. "Are you really sure?" she murmured. "You really have no concern for me?" Her voice dropped slightly, softer, more vulnerable. "Not like I do for you?"
Sasuke's breath hitched, but his expression remained unreadable. He didn't move, didn't react, but she saw the tension in his frame.
She folded her arms, stepping even closer. "You do, don't you?"
His brows drew together slightly, but he didn't retreat. He couldn't.
Sakura exhaled, staring into his face, watching the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers curled slightly as if trying to anchor himself.
"Tell me I'm lying," she challenged. "Tell me you don't think about me. That there isn't even a flicker of what I feel for you inside you."
Dammit, this woman... His jaw clenched. His eyes darted anywhere but at her. But he couldn't stop himself from noticing—
How the dim light traced the curve of her face. How her green eyes shimmered, unyielding and soft all at once. How her lips parted just slightly, waiting.
Something inside him cracked.
He straightened abruptly, as if pulling himself together. "Don't be annoying."
Sakura remained still, watching him, searching. Some of the confidence in her gaze wavered, replaced with something rawer. As if she wanted to believe she was wrong, but feared she wasn't.
"Sasuke," she murmured.
His name, spoken so softly, so intimately, wrecked him. His breath was shallow. His pulse roared in his ears. His own name had never felt like a tether before, but now, from her lips, it held him in place.
"Stop talking," he rasped.
But his eyes burned.
Sakura saw it. Saw the flicker of something else. Something distant yet painfully familiar.
Sasuke clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but her presence, her proximity, was pulling him apart.
His gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop himself.
And she noticed, because her lips parted slightly…
… Only to speak again, to tell him to prove her wrong.
"Sasuke, look at me and tell me—"
But he moved before she could finish.
One second, there was space between them. The next, there wasn't.
The moment their lips met, Sasuke felt something snap inside him.
Months of restraint, of holding back, of pretending there was nothing there—none of it mattered now. His grip on control shattered like glass, and for once, he didn't try to pick up the pieces.
Sakura gasped softly against his lips, her body stiffening for only a fraction of a second before she melted into him. Her arms slid up, wrapping around his neck, fingers threading into his dark hair as she pulled him closer. He growled low in his throat, angling his head, deepening the kiss, pressing against her as if he could mold her into him.
She tasted like warmth and danger, like everything he'd tried to resist for so long.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling, hot and uneven. He could still taste her on his lips, and it made him want to dive right back in.
"Stop talking," he muttered.
Sakura's eyes flashed in challenge. "Make me."
His breath hitched—then he was on her again.
This kiss was different. Hungrier. Desperate. As if he was trying to make up for every second they hadn't done this. His hands gripped her waist, fingers pressing into her skin like he was afraid she'd drift away. Sakura moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair, tilting his head just right as she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.
Their bodies moved together, blindly shifting, until her back met the wall with a quiet thud. The room was silent save for the sounds of their ragged breathing, the hushed noises of lips and tongues and gasps as they lost themselves in each other.
His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of her waist before slipping under her shirt, palms pressing against the bare, burning skin of her lower back. He could feel the way her body shuddered under his touch, the way her breath hitched as his fingers skimmed upward, mapping her like he'd never get another chance.
Sakura's nails scraped against his neck, sending a sharp thrill down his spine. He groaned softly, his control slipping even further as her hands slid down, gripping his shirt like it had offended her personally.
A breathy hiss escaped her as his teeth caught her bottom lip, tugging just enough to make her pulse quicken. Her fingers fumbled with his buttons, popping one loose, but she couldn't have cared less.
His lips abandoned hers only to trail down her neck, pressing searing kisses along her jaw, her pulse, lower, until he found the spot—where her neck angled into her shoulder—that made her shiver.
A breathy, needy sound escaped her, her fingers tightening in his hair.
Sasuke groaned, hands gliding down her back, over her hips, tracing the dip of her waist before gripping her thigh. He didn't need to do much—she lifted her leg herself, wrapping it around his waist, pulling him flush against her.
His breath caught, heat pooling in his gut as he pressed her further into the wall, chest rising and falling heavily against hers.
Then her lips found his neck, nipping at his ear, and a growl rumbled in his throat. He fought the urge to roll his hips into her, but the way her hands slid over his chest, his abs, grazing over his belt buckle—damn it.
He needed her. He needed her badly.
They were fire and gasoline, burning, devouring—
"Oh." A familiar voice rang out.
They froze.
Sasuke's blood ran cold. Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head. Standing a few feet away, arms crossed, was Itachi.
An awful, suffocating silence filled the room. Sasuke muttered, "Crap."
Itachi raised his hands in mock innocence. "Don't let me stop you."
Sakura launched herself off of Sasuke, bright red, her hands flying to her face as she whispered, "Itachi?!"
Sasuke clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore the burn still coursing through his veins, the way his body ached to finish what they'd started. His fingers twitched at his sides, struggling to shake off the lingering heat of her skin.
He exhaled, trying to regain any semblance of composure. "You could've knocked."
Itachi arched an eyebrow. "I live here."
His eyes shifted between the two of them, taking in Sakura's flaming cheeks and Sasuke's barely-contained frustration. Then he rolled his eyes—as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Honestly? I'm not surprised," he said. "You two have been making heart eyes at each other for weeks now."
Sakura made a strangled noise. Sasuke fought the urge to strangle him.
But then Itachi's expression shifted, growing more serious. "Anyway, I actually came to tell you, I found someone. A guy who can hook us up with the firepower we need." He glanced at Sasuke. "We're meeting him tonight."
Sasuke nodded, forcing his brain to switch gears, to push aside the way-too-recent memory of Sakura's body flush against his.
"We'll be ready," he said, voice gruff.
Itachi smirked, knowing damn well why his voice was rough. "Good." Then, after a beat, he added, "That said, it's still hours away, so you two still have… free time."
Sakura stiffened. Sasuke glared.
But Itachi wasn't done. "Just... not by the window. A lot of creeps live around here."
Sasuke raised a hand, cutting him off. "Stop."
Itachi merely chuckled, twirling around and heading for the door. "Right, right. I'll leave you two to… recompose yourselves."
Sakura, still red, practically bolted after him. "W-Wait! I need to talk to you about the… guns."
Itachi nodded slowly, but the look in his eyes was all-knowing.
Sasuke just stood there, breath still not fully steady, watching them leave. His fingers twitched at his sides, still tingling with the memory of her skin.
"Dammit..."