Fandom Redemption [Closed] [Graverobber141/arbus]

[arbus]

Sakura didn't avert her gaze. She stared right back at him, like a challenge, like a fire ablaze in her emerald eyes turning them into the deeper, more profound green of the bottom of a deep, still lake.

No, it's not.

There was a level of trust you gave him, and he misused it.

Simple as that, but the words struck a chord within her that was not buried all that deep. Its surface merely hidden underneath fresh rubble, still light and easily carried away with some effort, for the price of a blister or two. Sasuke was right -- it was advice she was wise enough to heed, coming from his mouth. Her anger subsided, then rose again like an irresolute tide, reluctant to leave her.
How irrational emotions were, displaced maybe, but something in her gripped for that irritation like she would a piece of driftwood in the open sea. What she did not understand yet -- not in any way to put it into wrods -- was this: She blamed him for accepting her friendship, for understanding, and then making it so hard for her not to love him. She was angry with him, too, because all she wanted to do was love him, and she couldn't, not for the price it would cost her.

And yet, she didn't want to be difficult. She didn't want to be so confusing, so irrational.

Her hand shook as she raised her arm, but her grip around his upper arm was steady. She looked at her feet then looked at him and then at her feet again. She nodded, once, and acknowledged, sharp into the air between them: "Damn right I'm angry."

A secret: All she wanted to do was to tell him, to spill her heart out to him and be with him. However, she swore to herself not to do this, as it would allow the dam to break and her resolution to dwindle. She said: "I'm going now, Sasuke-kun." A day or two and a bit of space would strengthen that resolution again. She was no longer a weather vane, would not allow him to be exposed to her indecisiveness. She made sure to look at him once more, to communicate that they were good, that there was no need to worry, before she let go and walked off, uncomfortably aware of the group of girls now standing at the bookshop, staring at her back.

The relief of turning the corner was a physical thing, and under the puzzled glance of an elderly vendor she sank against the wall of an apartment building, burying her glowing face in her hands. Kami, how was she supposed to be around him anymore? She could not not feel it, and beneath all other emotions, beneath her disappointment and grief and anger and a spark of vindictiveness there was always he, and it grew with every day they spent together. She could sense it, and she was afraid that soon, she would be swallowed whole by it.

----
Five minutes later, she had gathered her bearings, had walked into the hospital and found Shizune in the medic nin's cafeteria to tell her she had eaten ramen with Naruto and that he told her Tsunade-shishou was here, would like to see her. She was determined to ask Tsunade about the pain in her back, which was a constant worry nagging in the back of her mind, a it's not supposed to be that way that only contributed to her fickle mood. She felt a bit like stomping, but she refrained, and her cheeks were still red and her face still uncomfortably hot as her knuckles rasped against the door to one of the offices.

 

[Graverobber141]

It hurt, like a knife stabbing deep and twisting, blade coated with poison, and it tainted his stomach, sinking and clawing, unshakable and sickening, her single use of that suffix -kun, what normally indicated a level of affection, yet now only felt like reversion. And he didn't know why he felt this way, why this pain of rejection bore deeply inside him, because he had expected this hadn't he? He understood it, didn't he: her need to keep a careful distance between the two of them? But it was there, so very vivid, and he felt himself staring at her as she left, that hurt visible within his dark eyes, because with its sheer rawness, it took a while for his mind to lay the bricks again, to guard his vulnerability.

He didn't seem to notice their observers, or maybe it was that he just didn't care. He was focused solely on that corner she had disappeared behind, and it took an amount of time that slipped past his knowledge--a handful of seconds, minute, or minutes, he didn't know--before he continued on his path, hand lifting up to gently pet Ari in his slumber.

----

For the most part, Tsunade considered herself in retirement. Having served as Hokage for a handful of years, during a war nonetheless, no not any war, that war in particular, she damn well deserved it. Yet medical nin, or shinobi in general, for that matter, never retired fully: in a crisis, she would always be called into action, and would always answer that call willing. In her travels around the world, she had stumbled across strangers in need of assistance in a variety of different ways--a man suffering from a concussion on the side of the road after a robbery, a child battling a fever, and even while drunk in an inn, a women going into labor--and had helped them all, afterwards slinking off to find another gambling den to avoid thanks she didn't want to hear, her assistant at her heels.

There was something heartwarming about being back in Konoha, however, and instead of spending her time here patching up wounds, to aid in bringing forth life for a boy--no, man, she submitted, even if it was by the barest definition--that she had watched grow into his own, and she proudly took some credit for that growth. Of course, she also thought that her advice and guidance were severely needed, considering that when Naruto had first come to her worried about his wife's symptoms, he had practically and comically toppled over at the word 'pregnant'.

The day couldn't get any better, she thought, organizing Hinata's chart with a few final marks, the books, and the handwritten notes she had gathered for the couple, unless if she ended up on a winning streak tonight while playing cards, or drinks would suddenly be declared on the house at her favorite bar.

There was a rap at the door of the office she had forcibly claimed at the hospital, and automatically, she found herself barking, "You're not getting it back. Bother me again, and I'll punch you through someone else's office."

The handle turned, and Shizune was stepping in, behind her--"Tsunade-sama, Sakura is here to see--"

Or if her favorite student stopped in for a visit.

Tsunade was on her feet, and like a mother who hadn't seen her daughter for an incredibly long time, since she had been in and out of Konoha ever since the end of the war, embraced her disciple in a tight hug. "It's good to see you," she stated as she withdrew, studying Sakura's face with scrutiny.

"I'll take this to reception and work on gathering the requested vitamins," Shizune declared, sliding a clipboard off of Tsunade's stolen desk, before slipping outside, obviously giving the two time to catch-up.

"Whose ass do I need to kick?" The sannin asked, even though she already knew, and had, in fact, been waiting a long time to make that Uchiha's face a lot less pretty.

 

[arbus]

Sakura had to stifle a pained sound at Tsunade's embrace, was, however, eager to return it. As always when she saw her mentor, she felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders. She was lucky to still have her teacher to turn to for guidance, knew it was a privilege and cherished it. Naturally, Tsunade was more than a teacher to her, had become a maternal figure along the way, and someone Sakura admired for her strength and unbending will. Her own parents had lost touch with her life basically when she had joined the Academy at the age of eight; they knew nothing about the shinobi life and had been spectator's to Sakura's ever since.

To have a confidante, someone who knew at one glance when something was wrong, was a great relief, and the joy showed on Sakura's face in a bright smile. "It's good to see you too, Tsunade-shishou", she said and meant it. Good to see her well, because Sakura knew the toll Tsunade had paid during the war and how relieved she had been when Kakashi-sensei had finally, if reluctantly, taken over the Hokage's hat.

And for once in her life, she thought laconically, she had a choice in answering that question. She thought of Satoru, and how a simple ass-kicking would not do for someone like him, and buried the thought quickly again. Of course, it was Tsunade's way of asking how it went with Sasuke, as she knew that Sakura had been traveling with him. As always at the inquiries of her mentor, she chose to give the polite answer: "Probably mine, this time."

She followed Tsunade to her desk, where she choose to stand, not wanting to risk sitting down because of the ache in her back. "I ... did something stupid." Which of all the things, a small, diabolical voice in the back of her head asked. "I had to use the seal repeatedly, twice in its full capacity, and I think I overdid it. I ... hm ... had to heal very severe wounds three times in quick succession, that was two weeks ago, and ever since my back is ... It's like I pulled a muscle, I think. But even if I infuse chakra into the muscle, it doesn't stop."

Better get it over with at once -- Tsunade-shishou had a way of making her impatience known, and she was such an excellent healer it probably took her only a glance to see that something was wrong with the way Sakura was moving, or standing, or whatever. Sakura had not yet managed to achieve that level of perception, and accordingly found that gift of hers rather uncomfortable.

 

[Graverobber141]

At the mention of having done something stupid, Tsunade's brows pulled together in distaste, a thought running through her head, probably because of the recent surprise she felt at realizing Naruto had finally figured out the act of procreation, that if the Uchiha had touched her daughter, and now judging by her current state, hurt her, she would certainly kill him, pardon or no. Yet that line of thinking quickly vanished, her scowl replaced by a firm look of concern, as Sakura revealed what was bothering her physically, at least, and the sannin was acting a moment later.

"Hold still," Tsunade demanded, as she pressed one hand into her disciple's shoulder for support, to steady her, before the other pressed into her back, warm chakra flooding into Sakura's network, as she searched out the root of the problem, even if she already had a suspicion of what it was. Sakura was talented in her medical techniques, but she was very young; the seal took years to master, and even more years to build up the necessary chakra to maintain it, and when it was pushed...There, Tsunade could feel it, the cell degeneration, and the worry showed in the way her brows pulled together again angrily, the way her lips turned downward.

"You are not to use the seal again anytime soon, and that's an order," the sannin finally declared, pulling back from her student so she could look her firmly in the eye, fierceness behind her own amber irises, "It puts a strain on your body, and you're too young to have significantly built up your chakra reserves for it, which means pushing it like that risks damaging your chakra pathways. This is more than a pulled muscle; you've damaged the cells, the pathways. I want you to rest for the next couple of days, and certainly don't expend any more chakra."

Damn him, she thought, for dragging her out there, for putting her through this. But, of course, such a thought was the worrisome blame of a parent, because underneath it, she was proud, and it showed for a split moment in the way her eyes softened: her student, risking her health to save others, and having the capability to activate the seal twice in such a short amount of time. It was as impressive as it was maddening and concerning.

"I want you back here in a few days so I can check up on you," she said a bit more softly. "Be more careful, Sakura, or you might cause permanent damage."

 

[arbus]

If Sakura had been able to read her mentor's early train of thought, her head most likely would have imploded from the fierceness of her blush. It was a good thing that the mind reading technique was reserved to the Yamanaka clan. One had to be thankful for the small mercies ...

Tsunade's verdict, however, left the metallic taste of fear in her mouth. Even under her therapeutic touch Sakura winced, needed to suppress the urge to recoil. The fresh twinge of pain, dulled underneath the soothing properties of the woman's chakra, only added to the feeling of dread. She had, on a more or less subconscious level, known that something was off -- enough so that she had been comforted when Naruto mentioned Tsunade's stay in Konoha. That comfort had evaporated now, as a hundred questions ran through her mind, seemingly all in a blur.

"Oh."

She had been warned in many lectures about the strain the seal put on the healer's body, but had never translated it into an actual thread to her own physical wellbeing. She had been alright so far, after all. "I hadn't thought ..." She interrupted herself, feeling dull and obvious. She had fallen victim to the same thought process she had witnessed in most of her patients: Thinking her body healthy and therefore invulnerable, with the idea of illness, of a lasting consequence impairing that body, an abstract theory. Abstract, until it wasn't.

Knowing that, she closed her mouth, and let the idea settle instead. It made sense, after all -- she had sensed that she had been dancing on the edge of a rather sharp knife, the way it drained to constantly squirrel aside just enough chakra to produce, and then maintain, the seal.

"I understand", she said after a long silence. "I'll be more careful." Whatever that meant: Both her and Tsunade knew, that in the end, a healer had to do their job no matter the cost. It was their way to contribute to Konoha's prosperity. An undeniable and harsh truth.

She let the moment pass by evening out her skirt, and thought about how to end their first meeting after such a long time on a merrier note. "How long are you planning to stay in Konoha? Maybe we could go to that new BBQ place?" After talking about it for half a year in letters, she added in her thoughts, displaying it in her smile. Who knew when they would have to opportunity again?

 

[Graverobber141]

A shinobi always sacrificed, in one way or another, a truth that Tsunade knew all too well; perhaps that was why she felt so inclined to demand that Sakura be more careful, even with the knowledge that if she was called to action, she would answer, fearlessly and without hesitation, just like her mentor. Some old proverb came to mind about teaching children to be strong, but hoping they wouldn't have to be. Smiling in light of the situation, and because it had been so long since they'd had a chance to truly talk, and she had an inkling that her student needed to vent, she grabbed her coat from the back of her chair, as she accepted, "Let's go, then. I hear they also serve great sake."

Exiting and holding the door for Sakura to follow, she spotted her assistant returning from down the hallway, and shouted out an order: "Guard my office, Shizune!" Near the window, a man in a white coat hung his head in dejection and groaned, grumbling under his breath about the contested ownership of the office.

"I'm thinking of staying a few months, at least," she explained as they left the hospital, stepping outside into a morning that had faded into the afternoon; while the air had become a bit warmer, it still possessed the edge of a coming winter's chill. "Make sure our favorite knuckle-head doesn't accidentally damage his child before its born." It was her way of saying that she wanted to be there to be part of the joy, having spent her fair share of time defending the brat in front of the elders, of suffering through the speeches she swear he scribbled out beforehand for different people, just in case.

Arriving at the BBQ restaurant, after they were settled in and ordered, Tsunade slid off her jacket, before pouring two cups of sake, pushing one forward toward Sakura. Lifting hers up, she peered out from over the top of the cup, asking with the same amount of subtlety as Naruto had, "So, want to talk about it?"

 

[arbus]

That Sakura had merely meant in the next couple of days did not seem to matter much it in the grand scheme of things. Or when she was bending over in the middle of the street, for instance, to puke into the Izunaka‘s flower bed in front of their fenced-off compound. And the thing was, they could probably identify her by smell, oh kami, and then they would know what a mess she was and Kiba would never let her hear the end of it.

One thing after the other, though ... even though her memories of the events that had gotten her to this (arguably low) point in her life where fuzzy around the edges and blurred together as if she were looking through a kaleidoscope.

It had all started harmless enough, and that just went to show what a bad influence her mentor really was. The first half a dozen blatant inquiries Sakura deflected artfully, with the grace of someone raised to be accomodating and polite and uncomplaining.
But then, the food came, and with it a second (second? already?) bottle of sake, shortly followed by a third and last one (she thought). And somewhere between the buzz of the heated, well-frequented restaurant and the sake-induced one in her head, she remembered leaning over the table and staring misarably at a piece of charred chicken, lamenting: „But he is so hot. I mean, that‘s the real problem, right? That no matter what he‘s doing, everytime I‘m looking at him ...“ The rest of the sentence drowned in a somewhat frustrated gurgling noise she (at the time) felt transported her feelings better than a thousand words could.

The problem, as she confided to Tsunade-shishou in a more solemn moment, was not so much the hotness after all (although it was a contributing factor) but her fear that if she trusted him, if she gave in and was his, he would loose interest again, because it hurt, the fact that he had never so much as looked at her, even if — she said all this out loud — he had told her that she had always been the one.

But deep down, she had said, she knew he wouldn‘t, knew it in the same obvious and half-forgotten way her heart was beating and her lungs working to provide her with oxygen. Because the way he looked at her now, the way he listened and, most gut-wrenching (in a good way, she assured) of all, the way he fought with himself to talk to her —

„It‘s a one-way-ticket“, she had mumbled, tears in her eyes. „If I give in it‘s a one-way-ticket. There is no going back from him, shishou. I know I won‘t ... there is just no going back.“ In this moment, she had been like the little, lost girl with a big bow in her hair, only that she wasn‘t hoping to be loved so much as overwhelmed by what she herself felt — and it was horrifying, the depth an emotion could take. „I don‘t wanna loose him“, she had sobbed, „but I also don‘t want to loose myself.“ And, in a quaking, high voice thick with unshed tears, the worst thing of all: „And what if I decide to be with him, and he dies?“

 

[Graverobber141]

While T&I had their fancy mind reading techniques and Ibiki's scrunched up face, Tsunade always found that alcohol was a much better way to draw out information from people. It was like a truth serum, hazing the conscious to destroy whatever filter existed, causing everything people held back to just come out like a flood, especially if they couldn't hold their liquor. There was a sliver of pride she felt, because Sakura held out for four bottles, at least, but of course she would; she was, after all, a student of Tsunade. The sannin herself was surprisingly restrained, not drinking normally as much as she would, only occasionally finishing a glass to encourage Sakura to keep going, and when the dam finally broke, and the information came pouring out, Tsunade listened.

Oh, she approved of Uchiha Sasuke as much as Uchiha Sasuke approved of small talk. The man had caused her and the people she cared about nothing but headaches while she served as Hokage, even significantly hurt her student, but she could, to an extent, understand Kakashi's reasoning for a pardon. And he had left the village for a while, something about redemption, and seemed to actually be doing good instead of harm. If only he had stayed away, part of her thought bitterly, but she understood the emotions flowing through her student, how much Sakura needed advice, guidance, and just to vent, and because of this, she shoved her personal feelings aside.

"You're both shinobi. Either one of you could die: maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe ten years from now. That's the reality of this life. And it'll hurt, but you can't love someone without opening yourself up to the possibility of pain." And didn't Tsunade know the bitterness of that reality, having lost so many people precious to her to war? But she also knew she wouldn't trade those memories, even if it meant bearing this pain, that some claimed was the reason for her drinking, for the rest of her life. "Besides, with the way you talk, it seems like you're both already emotionally invested in each other; if it happens, it's going to hurt either way, whether if you're with him or not."

A pause, then looking her student in the eye, she continued, "I'm not going to tell you that you should or shouldn't be with him, Sakura; you have to decide that for yourself. But I will tell you this: I think it's about time you start thinking about your own wants and needs, and stop putting them secondary to everyone else's. Would it make you happy to be with him? Are you able to be emotionally invested in him? Are you willing to take those risks, make those sacrifices to be with someone like him? Those are things you have to consider, questions you should ask yourself. And whatever you decide, if he truly cares about you, he'll understand and accept your decision."

Standing, intending to make a trip to the bathroom, Tsunade put a hand on Sakura's shoulder. "You deserve happiness, Sakura, and I hope you find it. Sit tight, I'll be right back. Go easy on the booze from here on out." When she returned, she discovered that their booth was now empty, and with a frustrated sigh that had an edge of humor, settled their bill without much complaint.

----------------

After tucking Ari into bed at the Hokage mansion, leaving a note that he would be back later and not to give the dogs too much trouble, Sasuke had spent the rest of his time making a visit that had been somewhere at the back of his mind ever since Naruto had told them the good news. The Uchiha compound had been destroyed by Pein a handful of years ago, and now only a field covered with a few trees stood where the walls and buildings decorated with the white and red fan once had. He spent the rest of the morning seated under one of those trees, listening to the wind rustle the leaves, eyes scanning the barren space, trying to sort through his own thoughts and emotions.

Home: it wasn't so much a place, but a feeling, and this certainly wasn't his anymore. Only ghosts lingered here, and he was starting to realize that he no longer wanted to be haunted by them.

The sun had shifted in the sky before he decided to leave, but before he did, he retrieved a necklace from his pocket--a simple leather cord with a few metal rings--and hung it to the tree by driving a kunai into the bark, wrapping the necklace around its handle. It was stupid, because no one would hear, but he found himself whispering to the wind a farewell anyways: "Goodbye, ni-san."

Then he was gone.

Passing by the other clan compounds on the way back into the center of the village, he was a bit surprised to come across a familiar mess of pink-hair hunched over an array of flowers, expending whatever she had eaten that day over so said bed of flowers.

"Sakura?" He asked, voice laced with concern, even though, walking forward to help hold her hair (which was hard to do with a single hand) back during the next wave of expulsion, he already knew it was her, and as he continued on with his next inquiry, wondering if she had fallen ill, "Are you all ri--?" the smell of alcohol answered that one for him as well. "--ah." There was no judgement in the sound of realization, simply acceptance.

Tsunade must be back in town, he thought absently, as he waited patiently for her to gather herself, keeping his hand on her back, in case if another wave of nausea washed over her.

"Come on," he spoke softly, because as soon as he had stumbled upon her, he knew he would make sure she made it home okay. Reaching for his collar, he unbuckled his cloak, before slinging the fabric around her shoulders, offering protection from both the cold and, he noticed with a bit of irritation, the eyes that seemed to be taking them in curiously in passing. "I'll walk you home."

Then he had the thought that he should offer her something to wipe her mouth with, but he didn't have a spare piece of cloth, so instead he reached out his arm to do it for her with his sleeve, before placing his hand gently against her back to offer support, eyes watching her carefully as if to observe her balance.

 

[arbus]

Sakura did not quite remember the thought process that had taken her from what was inofficially called Konoha‘s food mile to the residential district where all of the village’s eldest, most respected clans lived. She had needed to get out of the stifling atmosphere of that restaurant, the heat and the fumes of the BBQ uncomfortably against her skin and in her nostrils. Even now the smell stuck to her clothes and her hair, and it made her gag every time her hair fell over her eyes and she caught a waft of that smokey-sweet odor —

A relief, therefore, when it was gone out of her way, held in such a manner that cool air reached her neck, a balm on her overheated skin.

The urge to get out of the smoke had become the need for space, and she had thought about the training grounds when she had set off, oblivious to the fact that she had been walking into the opposite direction entirely.

She didn‘t quite realize that she did not want him there, of all people, for the first instinct bubbling up inside her was relief, a feeling of ease washing over her as her foggy brain clung to his presence like a boat in stormy water would to a beacon. Under his ministrations, which she submitted to without so much as a second thought, she felt secure and snug as if swaddled in a blanket — she drew the coat over herself more tightly, looking up at him for the first time, and that was when her mind (finally, belatedly) processed the consequences of his sudden appearance, and she groaned, empathetic enough it bordered on being comical: „Oh no.“

Her head spun just from trying to look straight, and her feet shoved over the ground in an aborted attempt to scram. Instead, her shoulders dropped, and she stood defeated, swaying a little on the spot. She was blessedly unaware of the eyes on her, as she had her hands full with focusing on Sasuke, as in Uchiha Sasuke, the guy she had spent rambling on about for the best portion of the past two hours.

She must be jinxed. She must have done something unforegiveable in her former life to anger the spirits so.

„I mean — I‘m alright.“ She tried very hard not to slur her words, which meant it took an extraordinary amount of time to formulate them at all. Not that she would have noticed. She mumbled something about being on her way to the training grounds, and that he needn‘t bother, and that she was perfectly capable of getting home by herself ... well, that last one might not have come out like that, or like any coherent sentence at all.

She wrecked her brain really hard for that doton jutsu that allowed the earth to open and swallow her whole.

 

[Graverobber141]

'Oh no.'

Sasuke might have offered a small smile in humor at that surprised statement of hers--he certainly understood the awkwardness of the situation, and if their positions had been reversed, he probably would've rinnegan his way out of it by now--but instead he watched her carefully with scrutiny, eyes slightly narrowed, concern written across his face, along with a slightly impatient expression of someone who severely wished they weren't being blatantly mislead, and a silent plea within his dark irises: please don't run. He didn't care that she was drunk, hardly his right to do so or judge, but he did care that she was insisting on being so careless.

The training grounds were on the opposite side of the village, and the fact that they were standing in the completely wrong area, next to a crime scene of flower vandalism of her causing, no less--which he pointed out silently by lifting a brow incredulously, shifting his gaze momentarily onto the ruined arrangement of roses and violets--and that he could only assume her last statement was some assertion about how she didn't need his help getting home, due to it being incoherent, did not inspire confidence in her ability to make it anywhere, and he could not in good conscience leave her wandering the streets alone.

His eyes softened considerably. His hand moved to gently grip her arm, giving it a small squeeze, as he proposed a compromise: "Sakura, I just want to make sure you make it home safely. I don't care about anything else. In fact, we can even pretend like this never happened tomorrow, if that makes you more comfortable."

He offered her a small, reassuring smile, before he was clearing his throat, taking a step forward toward her, because with only one arm, he couldn't do what he intended to do next without her consent and aid. He couldn't exactly look at her with his next request, fearful that eye contact would only make the slight pink colorful of his cheeks more profound, and he didn't have the collar of his cloak anymore to help hide his face. "Put your arms around my neck."

 

[arbus]

Sasuke had this way about him; it would have been imperious if it weren't so considerately verbalized, if his non-verbal communication not so carefully conveyed. But it was, and it triggered the memory of this morning on the river's shore, and with it a feeling of calm, of trust so deeply rooted that it felt like a matter-of-course to raise her arms and do as he asked.

Because there was Sasuke as this hypothesis of a man, a shadow looming over her thoughts constantly, and then there he was in his physicality, in the warmth of his body and the smell that was strongest in the nape of his neck. And this version of him she was not able to resist, because it pulled at something primal within her. Shelter. Savety.

"You're bossy", she mumbled as she found her cheek pressed against his collarbone a moment later, the foul taste of vomit prominent in her mouth and her heart a sluggish but comfortable beat against her chest. "Please don't carry me around the whole village", she heard herself say next, suddenly aware that this time around, people could see, that they weren't alone and that even this little scene would spread in the shinobi's rumor factory like a wildfire.

If she were coherent enough, she would have seen his blush, and it would have made her feel significantly better. Her protest from half a minute ago had slipped from her mind already like a boat keeling over in the turbulent waters of inebriation, and rationality was washed away by senses. The dull ache in her back was throbbing in that insignificant manner of hurt covered by a potent enough drug; she wanted to go home, suddenly ashamed to be standing here even a minute longer.

 

[Graverobber141]

There was a sound of amusement that rumbled in Sasuke's chest, something akin to a grunt just short of a chuckle, but certainly more than just a huff of air: a response to her declaration that he was bossy. He supposed it was a lot kinder wording than others would use, and coming from her, it almost sounded like a term of endearment. Which, granted, only made him more aware of the passersby on the street, including a herd of young female civilians who looked oddly, recently familiar and began whispering, giggling, and trying to subtly stare, though failing miserably, as they walked past. Sakura's request registered more firmly, yet his mind was already working out a solution to avoid unwanted attention.

"Mm," the sound was a hum of acknowledgement, as his dark irises shifted into dual shinning red and ringed purple; the tomoes of the latter spinning within the layers of his rinnegan, eyes scanning along the rooftops of the village. "Just hold on tightly. Keep your eyes closed." His arm moved to wrap around her waist tightly, fingers intertwining into the fabric of her shirt, because he honestly had never tried this with another person before.

One second they were standing in the street, and the next they were on a rooftop deeper within the city, quite a confused (and familiar) hawk left in their wake; the bird squawked vehemently as it flew straight into the ruined flowerbed, and though he didn't see it happen, Sasuke felt a sense of satisfaction that only came from payback. The sensation of the transportation always invoked in him a feeling of weightlessness; it was so very quick, switching places by warping time-space itself, yet there was little movement itself, which was why he hoped the effects of motion sickness would be minimum, considering her current state.

"Not the whole village," he stated softly, almost apologetically, because they still had a bit further to go, but at least there were less eyes on the rooftops. Bending down slightly, he shifted his arm under her legs, lifting her up in the same manner as he had done on the river shore, a memory that made his heart beat a bit faster, but the forefront of his mind was quick to shut the feeling down, his caution and wariness of the boundaries between them only reinforced by her intoxication.

He carried her the rest of the journey across the skyline of the city, jumping from roof to roof, until a few minutes later, he landed on the balcony outside her room. Gently setting her down, hand kept on her shoulder for support, ready to react should she stumble, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

 

[arbus]

The teleportation had no effects on her body, but it left her disorientated. Neither did she understand how suddenly she felt roof tiles under her feet, nor why he was scooping her up like that again, but with her resistance firmly overpowered by sake-induced fatigue, she let it happen, her head sinking more or less comfortably against him, the tip of her nose cold against his neck. She must have dozed off, because when she slipped onto the ground again she startled awake. "'m fine", she assured him, even though the edges of her vision blurred and pulsed and she decided she hated going out with Tsunade-shishou, and she would never, ever, ever do it again. She may have mumbled as much -- or not, impossible to remember later -- as she recognized the sliding door and the room beyond as hers. Laughing at her own stupidity, she grabbed for the handle to push it open.

The door gave, because her mother was that sort of person. There was an ironing board next to her bed, with piles of washing crumbled in hampers around it, and that was the sort of person her mother was, too: Sakura had merely been gone for a few weeks, and instantly that woman had turned her abode into an ironing room. She huffed at the realization, "Can you believe that?", swayed out of his grip, and half-stepped, half-fell inside, landing ungraciously on the bed with a muffled, unrestrained "Ooouch" falling from her lips at the sharp pain shooting up her spine. She was vaguely aware of Sasuke's presence, but the dizziness at the change of position was overwhelming, and for a good while she fought the urge to throw up again.

And when that urge subsided, she neatlessly slipped off to sleep, cheeks ruddy from the cold and the alcohol, and if she were to know that she was snoring lightly, she would have jumped out of the window, but in that impractical civilian sort of way, or maybe she would have moved to Turtle Island to start a new life as a fisher, to never, ever, ever face the mortification she did not yet know was about to haunt her in the morning.

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke hesitated at the sliding door, hand on the frame, watching as Sakura stumbled to her bed, and looking very much so like it was killing him internally to not help guide her. A beat spent letting cold air drift inside, and upon that realization, he came to the conclusion that he needed to leave, yet he was debating whether if he should retrieve his cloak or not, which still rested upon her shoulders. His indecisiveness was resolved by his irresolution to cross over the threshold into a space that was so very evidently hers, the room where she slept underneath her parents' roof; besides, she did look so very comfortable with the coat wrapped around her, and he didn't want to risk disturbing her sleep. A moment later, he was sliding the door shut and jumping off the balcony.

--------

The Hokage Mansion was massive and smelled like dog. Big, unfilled spaces like these always made him slightly uncomfortable; they either reminded him of the Uchiha compound, or of the winding halls of Orochimaru's hideouts. Part of him had debated if he should camp outside the village instead, yet with the cold, he would worry about Ari, even if the fox had an affinity for ice, and if Naruto found out about it (which he would, considering the dope was bound to disturb him sometime during his stay), he would never hear the end of it.

And there was something Sasuke wanted to discuss with his mentor, even if he wouldn't admit it, because it wasn't business but something personal. He couldn't go to Naruto on the matter, because he already knew his opinion, and he wouldn't entirely understand what was eating away at Sasuke's mind, this knowledge of what...whatever it was he was doing with Sakura.

Friends. Friends could talk to each other without fear of turning into something more. But this...He felt it, that desire, that longing, a pull like magnetism when he was around her, and when he looked inside her eyes, he found himself lost within an emerald sea. He would be content to be her friend, even if it was painful, because that meant she would probably, eventually move on, find someone else, but he wanted nothing more in the world to see her happy. But...

Being Sasuke, he wouldn't actually outright tell his sensei he wanted to talk. No, instead he found the kitchen, and it was within the kitchen that he began preparing dinner. If the loud, unrestrained sound of pots clanging together and an offer of food wouldn't summon Kakashi, the only other thing that would was to lay out a copy of Icha Icha, and Sasuke wouldn't sink that low.

 

[arbus]

The Hokage Mansion was too big a house for one person, and even after long afternoons like today, in which discussions with the council ate away hour after maddening hour, Kakashi usually delayed returning to it as long as possible. It might be the reason for his burst of productiveness and thus the fast structural development of the village, he had once joked with Tenzo, but the truth was he did not like the way his steps echoed along the long hallways, nor the concealed presence of the ANBU stationed outside. Today, though, his curiosity had driven him home much earlier than usual, because even if he was weary about Sasuke's presence in the mansion, he was too much of a shinobi as to let an opportunity as absurd as this slide.

Sasuke's request to stay with him suggested an ulterior motive, because there were other, more convenient places for the boy to crash, places that did not involve the awkwardness of him being around his former sensei. Then again, maybe Sasuke just didn't want to intrude on Naruto's and Hinata's still semi-newlywed bliss and really hoped Kakashi would leave him in peace.

"Maa, Sasuke", he announced his presence, leaning in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his pants, looking in at the kitchen with his eyebrows raised. "You'll make a fine spouse to someone someday." His mockery was light, but the gaze of his dark eyes guarded. The way he loitered around in the doorway, in full shinobi gear minus the sandals, he very much had the air of a visitor passing through a particularly boring museum. Kakashi could appreciate the surreality of this moment, because if he had been certain of one thing in his life, it was never to find Uchiha Sasuke preparing supper in his kitchen. The smell wasn't half bad, either, and reminded Kakashi that he hadn't eaten in a long while. "Trying to earn your keep, eh?"

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke's brows slightly lowered in agitation at that jab of Kakashi's, not because he was miffed at being called out for his obviously ulterior-motivated cooking, but because Kakashi had intentionally, Sasuke was sure, hit the subject that he needed to talk about to someone, he we realizing, on the head. Yet another thing to add to the list of things he wouldn't ever admit: Uchiha Sasuke, who had spent most of his life refusing to depend on others, was sorely discovering he needed a wider variety of confidants, friends. Because he was seeking relationship--a friendship was a type of relationship, he quickly corrected his thoughts--from a man who's love--relationship--life consisted of a series of smutty novels written by the sannin Naruto referred to as 'Pervy Sage'.

"Well, I'm certainly not doing your laundry. Think of it as repayment." Tilting his chin toward the pot of miso soup and prepared onigiri in offering, he stuff a rice cake in his mouth (with one arm, he had discovered that the mouth was an invaluable mode of transportation and an excellent holder of items), poured himself a bowl, and sat down at the table.

This should be easier, considering he was becoming more open with Sakura with each passing day, yet he still found it incredibly difficult, like trying to run in water. He supposed it was in part due to the fact that speaking about it would make it real, eventually would call for something to happen, and he was afraid of what that something might be, even if it was favorable. And then there was the fact that he and his former sensei hadn't exactly talked, in the actual sense of the word, since he had been pardoned and freed.

"I visited the Uchiha compound today," he found himself beginning, easing into this idea of openness with Kakashi by starting with a subject his mind was already settled on. "I suppose as the only living Uchiha, technically that land belongs to me." His dark gaze, carefully guarded, rested on Kakashi, as if he were testing the waters.

 

[arbus]

On his travels over the last few years, Sasuke had proofen himself a reliable ally as he had provided the village with highly useful information. Much of it Kakashi had been able to put to good use, and it had helped avoid many a diplomatic incident in these politically tumultuous times of the reconstruction of the shinobi world. But even though Kakashi might be a sentimental fool — something Tenzo had accused him of more than once, and, while deflecting it at the time, Kakashi saw the truth in that — he had never been much of an optimist. His trust in Sasuke‘s loyality was based more on the conscious decision to forgive, and the urge he himself felt to redeem his personal failures, than in any deep-rooted, inevitable feeling as it did with Naruto.

He was trying to follow through with Obito’s mantra, the sentiment that seemed so naturally ingrained in Naruto’s nature, the one that had driven his father all those many years ago. He did it to honor the dead in the best way he could, to try to be the best man he could be, but trust, of all things, had never come easily to him.

So he felt a surge of suspicion rise, carefully hidden under a relaxed posture, a disinterested voice. „I suppose technically it does“, he affirmed lightly as he helped himself to some miso and onigiri and sat, across from his former student, with no apparent intention of starting to eat. His eyes rested on Sasuke, the lazy expression a veil for the calculations running through his head.

 

[Graverobber141]

It was a dinner conversation, and they were treating it like a standoff; the image of two wolves circling around each other, snarling warnings, came to mind. If an outsider with a trained eye stepped into the kitchen, they might assume that the two were waiting, watching for the other to reach for a hidden weapon. Yet Sasuke supposed it fitting, considering his reluctance to continue, because it felt like he was giving his former sensei a kunai to use against him.

Studying that detached posture of Kakashi's, which conflicted with the way he was careful to hide whatever might be displayed in those eyes of his, Sasuke finished his rice cake to buy him time, before elaborating, "I'm selling it. It's located on the outskirts of the village, making it a prime spot for an extra training field or two."

He could say it was mostly for money; he could even think that. His travels, lack of official missions, meant he lived on minimal funds. It would be nice, as Naruto would keep calling him a hobo, to buy some new clothes, a new katana, certainly, and, a thought at the back of his mind: perhaps a permanent place to stay. Yet underneath all that, the decision was about closure. Letting go. Exorcising ghosts and demons; his own and those that he inherited. And perhaps...even about forgiveness.

And it felt...relieving to say it out loud, and that relief showed in the minuscule way his lips tilted upward.

 

[arbus]

"A training field."

A hint of surprise in his voice, as the tips of his fingers brushed along the table's surface in a absent gesture of contemplation. He tilted his head just so and studied Sasuke's features, and let the words hang between them in the air, before his eyes crinkled slightly, burying growing crow's feet into their corners that seemed genuine enough. Only after a beat, two, did he stand to start to make some tea. He could hardly start to eat with Sasuke's eyes on him, and he sensed this conversation was not yet over, although he wondered where it was going, because they had never been close, he had never been much of anything to Sasuke.

"You'll be making a good bargain. The cost of land in the inner village has exploded after the war."

He kept his back to Sasuke, as it seemed to take the edge off his weariness, the awkwardness, and continued conversationally: "You could finance your travels. Or buy one of those nice houses they're building in the new residental area. Maybe even one of the apartments in the new towers ontop of Hokage Mountain, but that's still a few years away, and you didn't hear it from me."

 

[Graverobber141]

You could finance your travels. Or buy one of those nice houses...

A crossroads.

Sasuke tapped his fingers against his bowl, suddenly uninterested in the soup he had prepared. But, at least, with his foot in the door, he was more comfortable in going forward, even if that level of comfort was almost nonexistent. And the best way to start was to drop this dance, to be blunt and straight-forward, because he needed clarity.

"I know we..." A beat, as he searched for the phrasing, dark eyes kept firmly on the cooling miso soup before him. "...don't share the same relationship you have with Naruto and Sakura. I didn't always respect you, but I do now, and since you would be able to look at this more unbiasedly than Naruto, I need your thoughts on something."

Waiting would have given him a chance to back out, but since this also concerned someone else he cared deeply for, he found the strength to continue, "It's about Sakura." But how to explain it? Resting his elbow on the table, his hand lifted to rub against his forehead absently. "I want her to be happy. To find and build a future with someone who treats her with the respect she deserves." Who makes her laugh and smile, offers her strength when she needs it, lets her stand on her own when she doesn't, loves her unconditionally. "But I feel like I'm in the way."

How could she should move on, when the slightest touch between them was like flint sparking against stone? When he couldn't help but to stare at her, to gaze into her light, deep eyes of an ocean that were like a metaphor contrasting against the darkness of his own? When he was fighting every primal urge in himself just being in her proximity, trying to be mindful of the boundaries set between them?

"I don't know what the right thing to do is," He admitted, and that admittance of incompetence, to call attention to this hole inside him, where knowledge of all these emotional things were supposed to be, yet was left barren by damning ghosts he couldn't seem to escape, no matter how hard he tried, made him angry. At himself. Then underneath the underneath: at Itachi, at his father, at everyone else who had a part in it, for fucking him up to the point where he couldn't understand what love was supposed to be.

His fingers curled inward, tightened, the fist pressing into his skull, into that spot he had always touched with the phrase 'maybe next time'.

"I don't know if I should leave or stay."

 

[arbus]

Usually, only one pair of shoes could be found in the genkan of Hokage Mansion. The long corridors winding through the two-story building were devoid of pictures, claws clicking over the immaculately polished wooden floor often the only sounds echoing along its walls. It was a building designed to befit the Hokage's status, high ceilings and cherry wood, expensive furniture and multiple drawing rooms for receptions and leisure respectively. Also, a building to hold a family, but the upper floor was all but deserted, only one of the multiple bedrooms occupied. Naked feet padded from there to the kitchen, and the garden was extensive, representative, unused.

Kakakshi could have laughed to stand in such a house, in which rooms felt too vast and too empty and ironically allegorical, and be asked for this kind of advice. He wondered if Sasuke thought Kakashi had ever, even remotely, talked to the other two about such a thing, and wondered too how desperate the kid was to come to him of all people. Then again, Sasuke hardly had the privilege to choose from a wide array of confidants, so probably his old sensei hadn't been the next best, but the only choice for him to confide in.

There was an inkling of pride, again, at this display of growth. Another sign of the boy's change, and it took away from the weariness, he thought, as he poured the tea into cups. He did not turn, though, but finished his preparations in silence, not afraid to let it linger and draw out. He took the steaming cup in his hands, and sighed, then hooked a finger under the fabric of his mask to pull it down. Careful to keep his back turned, the angle he stood almost seemed deliberate, allowing a glimpse of his cheek and the slant of his jaw as he sipped the tea.

"Sasuke." As he finally spoke, his voice had an edge to it, was intense with an unnamed but hermetically contained emotion. He took time to choose his words. Because he cared for Sakura deeply, but he understood where Sasuke was coming from; the kid was still young, and maybe, maybe capable to change enough, not the end up in a house that held only one pair of shoes in the genkan. "Some people have done things that are unforgivable. Things that exclude them from the right to live their lives as most would, because they don't deserve it, or don't think they do." He took another sip of tea, let the flavor spread on his tongue, the hot water burn the inside of his cheeks before it ran down his throat and burned that as well. "People like that don't usually enjoy the privilege of being loved, and if they do, they should think long and hard if they want to throw it away."

He reapplied his mask then and turned, to place the other cup in front of Sasuke on the table, next to his forgotten bowl of miso. His eyes had that slant to them, impossible to tell though if the smile was genuine or not. "You already seem to know what Naruto's advice would be. He might be a bit blockheaded when it comes to his studies, but as we both know, he has the right instincts. So maybe you should trust him on this, too." The crinkles in the corners of his eyes grew deeper. "But the person you should actually pose that question to is that pink-haired girl that keeps staring at you as if you're the best thing she's seen in her life. You know, the one that would follow you to the edges of the continent just to be by your side."

 

[Graverobber141]

Was it that simple?

So many things coursing through his body, underneath the surface of his skin, as he processed Kakashi's words: fear of rejection, excitement at possibilities, nervousness, and a warm heat that offered comfort like a crackling fire on a chilled winter night. A realization, one he had perhaps know all along, yet couldn't allow himself to acknowledge. But it had been so very evident, that morning by the river.

He would always act to protect her, no matter the cost. His hand trailed through his bangs as it dropped upon the table, fingers twitching, as if he could still feel lingering, sparking, lightning chakra that had formed the chidori and the blood that had followed, dripping down his arm. And he would always reach to her for comfort, seek out her warmth for shelter and strength, and when he saw her faltering, he would always offer her his own.

It was so very evident.

He laughed then, and though it was soft, it was genuine, as another realization hit him like a boulder. "Naruto, Naruto," he emphasized the name because this fact was utterly ridiculously, "figured it out before me." His palm pressed into his forehead and he scoffed, but the sound had little bite.

Something had to change, move forward, because they couldn't keep on doing this, and it wasn't his sole decision to make. Of course he had to talk to her. It was one of those facts that felt as self-explanatory as the need to breath.

Closing his eyes momentarily, he took in a deep breath, and then reached for the tea Kakashi had offered him. He tapped the cup, before taking a long sip, settling his eyes on his former sensei, and suddenly he felt compelled to say something else. It was this house, he thought, the vastness that emphasized its emptiness, reminding him of a conversation between them a lifetime ago. "I didn't want to listen that day you tied me to a tree. Nothing you could have said would have mattered. I was going to do everything I did, because I felt like I had to. It's not your fault."

 

[arbus]

Funny almost, how different their perspectives were: Naruto and Sasuke, together a walking, talking metaphor for the different sides of the same coin. And both of them recognized Sakura for what she was, both from their unique perspectives. Together, those three would be able to move mountains -- but still they seemed to require a little push, here and there, to realize the strength they would find in actually working together, in letting trust lead them instead of their misguided, counter-intuitive fears. They are still young, Kakashi thought, regarding Sasuke through unreadable eyes, still learning.

He only hummed in recognition of Sasuke's words, but did not reply. To say anything would mean to acknowledge his personal feelings on the matter before his former student, something he had no intention of doing -- even though Sasuke seemed to have sensed it regardless. Or maybe it was Sasuke's own guilty conscience speaking and the words had nothing to do with Kakashi's. In any case Sasuke had not ceased to be dangerously perceptive, and their conversation edged too close towards the line of intimacy as was. Kakashi withdrew again to the kitchen counter, as if to create physical space between them would create emotional space as well. He would work over the statement later, when he had slept and trained and emptied his mind of the thousand other things he needed to keep track of. He suspected they would be good for him — likely would not change his perception on things but still serve as a remedy of sorts. Yet, there was no use in crying over spilled milk, and Kakashi had managed to leave most of the lingering shadows of regret on the burned earth that had been the Forth War‘s battle ground.

He was just thinking what would be the most elegant way to exit the conversation, when chakra flared from outside the Mansion in a courteous forewarning. A moment later, an ANBU appeared at the window and -- superfluously -- knocked once before she let herself in. Ah, yes, impeccable timing.

"Hokage-sama, two messages. One from Cat-san, and the other from the Raikage." The ANBU, her purple hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, took a step forward and held out a scroll, prominently sealed with the cloud crest of Kumo. Kakashi took the scroll but did not immediatly open it. He knew his shoulders had tensed, but he could hardly do anything about it. "Cat's message", he demanded. The ANBU turned her head toward Sasuke, her eyes hidden beneath the shadows thrown by the mask but clearly rearding him, judging his presence. She then took another step, and started to whisper something into Kakashi's ear. It was a distinct sound, but the words beneath the clay mask undistinguishable from one another. Kakashi's eyes darted to Sasuke and he frowned. When the ANBU was finished, she stepped back and bowed respectfully.

"Ah, Sasuke-kun", Kakashi said in a lamenting tone, like he had never regretted anything more in his life, "I'm afraid I have to go. Duty calls." He wiggled his fingers, snatched up one of the onigiri, and ended their little moment quite unceremoniously by following the ANBU through the kitchen door.

—-
A few days later

The threatened interrogation into Satoru‘s mind had never come. On the contrary, after Sukea‘s visit, the conditions of his imprisonment had improved slightly. The light, moderate in brightness and not intended to irritate anymore, was switched on and off in a regularly recuring 12-hour-cycle. Satoru was provided with a wash basin and soap, enough water to stay hydrated and regular rations in form of nutrient bars. It was obvious they were no longer trying to wear him down, but sustain him in good health, as if merely waiting for the opporunity to send him on his merry way (in one form or the other).

Yet, though the treatment could be considered humane, the chakra-suppressing seals stayed and drew, relentlessly, from the prisoner‘s energy. And the only contact to the outter world, the only person he was to see was Ibiki, whose face might as well have been carved in stone for all the care and emotion he displayed.

So when the door opened, after a long period of the superficial light turned on (an indicator that it was, perhaps, evening) it was in itself an interruption of the established routine, because Ibiki only ever entered in the morning, and certainly never with a platic bag dangling from one of his hands that exuded the scent of heavy broth and spices. Swiftly, Sukea‘s eyes traveled the room, checking out its nooks and crannies before settling, and remaining, on the prisoner.

„So normally when a prisoner asks for something, it‘s for a book to read or cigarettes or a form of painkiller or other. But I‘m honored?“ The door had swept shut behind him with the familar faint buzz of seals, and he remained at the door, a curious expression on his face. „The Hokage doesn‘t seem to be able to deny your wish, though he wants you to know that this is very uncommon.“ He paused, light eyes darting to the concealed two-way-mirror, and stage-whispered: „Guess he liked your comment regarding his proclivities.“ Sukea took a beat, as if to bask in that small form of retribution, before he continued: „And I‘d like you to know that if you intend to attack me, hm, they won‘t give you time to finish your soup.“ With that, and a broad smile, he lifted his arm to present what he brought.

Yet, despite the smile, Sukea had the air of someone not very happy about being put in such a position, and underneath his composure seemed to thrum the restless energy of nervousness, hidden, but not fully, by his broad stance and the self-assured slant of his shoulders.

 

[Graverobber141]

For the most part, Satoru had been complacent, calm; the returned headband was kept loosely tied around his neck, and seemed to be a sort of anchor. Occasionally he would fight the tiredness that had crept over his body, due to the seals preventing him from calling forth chakra, by doing push-ups and sit-ups, if only to keep the cabin fever at bay, but mostly he stayed in the cot: sometimes curled underneath the blankets, hidden, as if trying to shut out the world, and others spent seated cross-legged upon it, eyes closed, as if he were mediating. Most of all, during his stay, he was silent. No sudden outbursts, no idle chatter. He talked as little as he had to, and even his request had been little more than a mumble.

The interruption in his cemented routine was partly a surprise, because he hadn't fully expected for his specific request to be honored, but it answered a question meandering at the back of his mind, and fueled those occasional, dangerous curiosities that lingered underneath the waters of both his conscience and conscious. He took his time to shrug off the blankets, to roll to the edge of the bed, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor, though he made no movement to stand. Disheveled hair loosely hanging in his face, he pushed back a few of the dark strands, before his grey eyes were lifting to take stock of the man before him.

A few moments were spent studying Sukea in silence, mulling over his thoughts, before he finally spoke, "I have no intentions of hurting you. In fact, I only ever had the intention of harming one specific person, yet things got a little...out of hand." His lips twitched with that statement, somewhere between trying to form a grimace and humorless smirk; quietly, a finger lifted to tap the metal of the headband around his neck. "You are more than a simple pawn. A bishop, perhaps, stationed beside the king. You are connected to the Hokage somehow, are serving as his mouthpiece by his will, and that is why I requested to speak with you, so that I can speak with him."

It sounded rehearsed, these words flowing from his mouth, and he kept his eyes on Sukea as he spoke, drumming his fingers against his knee. "We are caught in a stalemate. Because before you can pardon me, you have to know that I have laid to rest my intentions to kill the Uchiha. Yet before I can do that, I have to, in a sense, forgive the Uchiha. And if I'm not able to, you'll either kill me, or prepare me for long-term imprisonment." He spread his arms out before him, palms held up. "Either way, information, confrontation, is needed for anything to move forward, because all we're doing now is wasting time and your resources."

A beat, before he made his next request, "And that is why I want to speak to Haruno Sakura."

 

[arbus]

"Hm."

A drawn out silence, in which the faint rustle of the plastic bag was the only sound. Then, motion, as two long strides took Sukea into the middle of the room, depositing his fairing on the narrow steel table placed against the far wall. He grabbed the handle of the only chair, swung it, and it screeched over the linoleum floor as he placed it in an appropriate distance before the bed to sit, broad-legged and hunched, resting his elbows on his thighs. His hands clasped, he brushed his fingers over his lips, thinking.

A subtle change in the way he moved his body; predatory, now, like a polite affirmation of Satoru's observations. Polite because it was no longer denied; polite because he was meeting the man eye to eye.

"Nice to see that you've found your voice -- and eloquence, it seems. Very impressive, your little speech. And true, I'll give you that." He smiled his polite, cheerful smile, having dropped any pretense of nervousness. His voice remained soft. "You have the Hokage's ear", he said slowly, "but he won't grant you this request." It lay between them, the knowledge of Sakura's near-death. "Haruno-san is too precious an ally to risk for your games. And your life is not that valuable to either Konoha or the Sand. I'm curious, though, why you think talking to her would make a difference."