Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Shisui ever encountered Haruno Sakura, she was around twelve years old. She looked ridiculous, what with that mop of bubblegum pink hair and her obnoxious red dress. She and her blonde haired teammate were following his younger cousin through the market at the time, apparently just off from a mission from Wave Country. Their clothing was scuffed, worn and withered by what seemed to be a battle and bandaged even at the cheeks, looking as if they had ran nonstop for miles, but she remained almost completely untouched aside from a tear on her dress and a yellowing bruise on her right arm.

There was a dazed look in her eyes, a far away gleam that just didn't suit her face. A look that made young Shisui pity her.

Their meeting wasn't really a memorable one, seeing as how they hadn't actually interacted. Young Itachi had been walking beside him at the time, both returning to the Uchiha Compound after a light training session when they had heard Sasuke's familiar growl, "usuratonkachi!" through the prattle of the crowd. Sure enough, when they investigated the cause, they found the youngest Uchiha in the midst of an argument with the Kyuubi Jinchuuriki while little Sakura watched on, seemingly concerned with how she brought her arms up to shield her torso. Her presence was more of an afterthought.

"Oi, oi," Shisui had called out, hands clapping to silence the boys before they attacked each other. "What's gone and made you so fussy, Sasuke-kun?"

Sasuke had brushed him off, glare then directed to the ground as Itachi softly scolded him for the disturbance they were causing to the passersby. Neither boys offered an explanation for their spat, and neither did Sakura who avoided eye contact with everyone. They parted almost immediately after that, those of the Uchiha going one way, and the two outsiders going the other with the shy pinkette waving goodbye to them. After that, he had caught glimpses of her just as often as he did Naruto, as the two came by the compound every so often to meet with his cousin for things like dinner and training sessions. And even though it had been over ten years since the girl had been integrated into a portion of his life, Shisui couldn't remember ever actually speaking to the female member of the Legendary Team Seven. He had his own life, his own responsibilities after all. And yeah sure, he had heard of her accomplishments—everyone had.

Becoming Tsunade's apprentice.

Killing Sunagakure's infamous Akasuna no Sasori.

Becoming Head Medic of the hospital.

But that was all stuff that he'd heard in passing. And as an Anbu captain, he had to know all the important things about a person and their attainments. Those just so happened to be the only significant things about her. Outside of Anbu, their interactions were just as few and far between. She had healed him in the hospital maybe once or twice. He'd seen her and her team crossing the border checkpoints as they returned from missions. Every time he'd enter the Hokage's office, the white and black uniform discarded and a mission the topic of discussion, she was just leaving or vice versa. Very rarely did she remain in the room during briefings, and on those few instances that she did, her nose was buried in a book or a scroll as she sat by the window. She never looked at him, never really acknowledged him beyond a polite "excuse me" and he did the same. They shared a civil nod in greeting whenever they passed each other when retrieving Sasuke, sometimes she'd snicker at a comment he'd make. It wasn't that they were trying to be rude. They just didn't know each other. She probably only recognized him as "Sasuke's cousin" or by his reputation "Shushin no Shisui". And he only knew her as "Sasuke's teammate" and "the Hokage's apprentice". There really just wasn't a need to know one another.

But that all changed when he caught the way she looked at him one day.

He wasn't sure what it meant at the time—that look. He almost missed it, actually, and figured he had merely imagined the expression she made—wrote it off as a lingering adrenaline-induced hallucination or a trick of the eye. He was in the Hokage's office, having just returned with his squad from an S-ranked mission in full Anbu garb when she came in. Having seen her nearly every week as the Hokage's guard, he hadn't even thought twice about her presence, but usually he was outside the building, listening and watching from the shadows. This time, he was standing right in front of the blonde woman's desk as he relayed the details of his previous assignment. Tsunade had stopped him when Sakura arrived, beckoning the girl over to her side, and asked him to repeat his findings so she could hear.

That's when he noticed it. The look.

She had been listening to him intently, as expected, as Tsunade had tasked her with researching the poison that was used against his teammates during his mission. But there was something off about the encounter, as her gaze shifted between him and Genma and even Itachi. At first, he brushed it off as curiosity, as an interest in their persona. It wasn't unusual for others to accidentally stare as they tried to figure out their identities; he sometimes did it too when approached by another Anbu while off the clock. But the longer he observed the rosette, the more he realized that her wandering eyes held a particular spark that stirred his intrigue. There was a fire in those pools of emerald, a dangerous heat that he'd never seen in her, but had seen in the gazes of many women.

Desire.

That moment replayed in his head maybe once or twice since then, reappearing out of nowhere when he felt a little bored, and even now he wondered if he had seen it right. Either way, that day ignited something within him, something made him question that metaphorical mask Haruno Sakura wore.

Kamen

"Sakura-chan! You home? Sakura-chaaaan!"

Peering up from the scroll splayed across her table, Sakura remained rooted in her chair for a moment longer, hoping that if she were quiet enough Naruto would grow bored and wander off. It had worked a few times before, so why wouldn't it now? When he knocked on her door again, she allowed a long, overly exaggerated sigh to escape her, and sluggishly rose from her seat, rounded the table and headed straight towards the front door. On the other side, Naruto straightened to full height when she revealed herself, grin in place as he seemed to rock on his heels like a child. She quirked a brow at this, crossing her arms and leaning all her weight onto the door frame, clearly unimpressed.

"What is it Naruto? It's my one day off this week and you know that when I'm off I—"

"Team Seven: battle royale!"

Part of her wanted to laugh at the way Naruto announced his response, his hands making a sweeping gesture across his face as if to frame those four words, while another part of her wanted to groan in displeasure. Not only did he interrupt her (hadn't he grown out of that habit?), but she was definitely way too tired to manage a full-out attack on him and her dark-haired teammate. It was only Tuesday, a very busy Tuesday full of sutures and chakra exhaustion. She had ony just woken up from her nap maybe an hour ago and had intended on doing some light reading on her couch, so she certainly wasn't in the right state to even attempt sparring with her two overzealous friends. Doing anything, training or otherwise, seemed to require a stint of preperation when it came to them. Sighing again, Sakura prepared to dismiss the blonde when he interrupted her again.

"With Kakashi-sensei!"

Sakura brought a finger to her lip as she considered the idea. It wasn't often that Kakashi had time to mingle with his old Gennin squad, let alone to train with them. Ever since they'd all made it to Jonnin, it seemed as if their sensei had nearly disappeared, both on and off the training field. Naruto blamed it on the porn. He kept insisting Kakashi was at home, giggling like a schoolgirl over the latest volume of Icha Icha on his couch. The first time he'd said it, both she and Sasuke had shared a look of gross horror because the way Naruto described it was a little too close to the truth. He'd even acted it out as he had been on her couch at the time, belly down, by kicking his feet like a teenage girl and gazing longingly at the magazine he'd been flipping through. But over the past eight months, Sakura knew it wasn't the sudden influx of porno novels that kept their former teacher away. She'd seen the stress on his masked face, in that lone silvery eye of his, and had ran into him a few too many times in the hospital for simple training injuries. She assumed he had taken on Anbu missions again, and although she wasn't too pleased at the thought, she also knew it wasn't her place to reprimand the man.

Anbu... She withheld a shiver. The most elite of the elite ninja to ever grace the village, Anbu operatives were easily the most frightening and striking characters she had ever come across. The way they protected the village, the way they appeared like some God-sent deity when they were needed most—the way they forwent honor in exchange for anonymity—was as seductive as one could get. But at the same time, she knew what the actions such an organization could do to a person. Killing people was always expected of a shinobi. But for Anbu, it went beyond that. While Chunnin and Jonnin may have had to defeat enemy ninja as a side effect of their mission or to defend themselves and others, Anbu were specifically tasked with making people, sometimes even whole families disappear.

Interest piqued, if not just so she could take out her annoyance on her former sensei (and to secretly see if he was doing okay), Sakura turned on her heel with the intent of retreating into her house to retrieve a few things. She supposed she could use the extra training anyway. Naruto, having caught the glint of excitement in her eye, let out an excited "yatta!", thrusting his fist into the air and nearly hopping with joy. Sakura rolled her eyes, not even bothering to fight off the smile that stretched across her lips at the childish antics of her longtime friend. She plucked a random weapons pouch from the pile of many beside her coffee table and snagged her hitai-ate from it's place on the kitchen counter. Although she wasn't intending on participating in any intense physical activities today, her attire was simple enough and flexible enough for her to wear out so she didn't bother changing. Her charcoal shirt was breathable, sleeveless and cropped at her natural waist; she wore her black spandex shorts, with both her pale pink skirt and elbow supports abandoned in her bedroom. She wouldn't need those today. After she had fastened her hitai-ate in it's usual spot and clasped the buckles on her boots, she followed the excitedly bouncing Naruto out into the street.

"So how'd you manage to get Kakashi-sensei to agree to this anyway?" She asked, her smile still in place.

Naruto blew on his knuckles, smirking. "Let's just say, there's a little red book with a bow on top waiting for him," He replied, now brushing his knuckles onto his puffed out chest. Sakura chortled openly at the answer, playfully smacking Naruto's shoulder with a little more force than she intended. He stumbled slightly, but didn't comment on it, merely rubbing his shoulder with that lopsided grin of his.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Ne Sakura-chan, do you think he'll take us to Ichiraku after?" She laughed again, shaking her head. Same old Naruto.

Kamen

"Shannaro — !"

The ground exploded beneath her knuckles, jagged clumps of earth leaping at the silver-haired man crouched several meters away. He leapt towards the side, avoiding the debris but having to destroy the stray boulder a silent Sasuke had kicked in his direction. He launched a flurry of kunai towards the right where Naruto charged at him, the sharp clanging of them being deflected and a curse reaching his ears a moment later.

His fingers went through a series of seals quickly, and then he head another curse, this time from his female student, along with a symphony of barks from his ninken as they popped into existence. The wind picked up, whistling loudly in his ear and he only had moments to react; he gripped Naruto's arm, careful to avoid the small Rasengan aimed at his midsection, and flung the blonde like a rag doll into Sasuke's direction.

"Oi, oi, I thought this was a free for all. I didn't know it was three against one," Kakashi chided, smiling when he heard Naruto and Sasuke grunt, followed by an annoyed, "usuratonkachi!" There was a loud crackling and a heat in the air as Sasuke's Chidori screeched, this time directed at Naruto who now aimed his colorful vocabulary at him in response. Kakashi nearly chuckled aloud upon realizing the young men had abandoned him to focus on beating up one another.

Some things never change.

Light but quickly approaching footsteps pulled him back into the battle at hand. Sakura had managed to dispel Pakkun and the others and was now working her way back towards him. He hadn't heard any telltale pops, meaning she must've used her sleep-inducing jutsu on them. Damned iryo-nin. He crossed his arms over his face, already anticipating the high kick his pupil had aimed at him. Thankfully, she hadn't reinforced her attack with chakra, so all he would have was a sore arm later. He immediately followed up with a series of jabs, a stray uppercut being the one to land and send the rosette reeling back a step, but she merely grunted and returned a flurry of jabs of her own. When Kakashi met her fist with his own, a gust of chakra lashed out at them. Her expression was one of surprise, but was soon replaced with excitement. Her free hand reached for her pouch where she removed a kunai and used it to block the shuriken that flew at her as well as pitch it back in Sasuke's direction. Without caring to know if the weapon landed, she moved to punch Kakashi again, but he also managed to mirror it with his fist. Their next few hits went like this, knuckles clashing against one another's blow for blow and Sharingan swirling almost uncontrollably.

"Copying my fighting style, Kaka-sensei?" She teased, jaw tight.

His mismatched eyes crinkled in that uniquely coy way of his. "Unlike popular belief, it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks," He lightly returned. He wouldn't ever admit it, but Kakashi was sure he felt blood oozing from his bruised knuckles and into his gloves.

Before Sakura could do or say anything in response, Kakashi shifted so he could capture her much smaller fists with his larger ones, keeping her rooted in place. Her eyes widened with realization. Before she could rip herself free from her former sensei, Sasuke's body flew at her, taking her harshly to the ground with him. The air left her lungs all at once making her vision blur with darkness, and the weight of Sasuke's limp body on top of hers surely didn't help. Naruto was suddenly on Kakashi, eyes glowing red with the Kyuubi's influence, but not quite a worrying shade of scarlet. With a groan, Sakura shoved Sasuke off of her, rolling onto all fours as she attempted to catch her breath, Sasuke doing the same beside her.

Damn Kakashi...

Noticing that their sensei was now locked into a taijutsu bout with Naruto, Sakura glanced at her dark haired teammate to find him mirroring her. He had quite a few scuffs to his outfit, the high collar of his shirt singed at the tips and torn on one side, while his beautifully fair skin was marred with dirt and bloody fingerprints. Quickly, she twisted her body so her left foot lifted into the air, then brought her heel down on Sasuke, only for him to catch the weak attack and pull her leg towards him, forcing her into a painful split that made her wince. Her right fist flew forward despite her position, only for him to deflect it towards the ground where he pinned her uncomfortably.

"Is that it?" He grunted, his Sharingan already tracking the fight between the remaining two combatants.

Stubbornly, and more than a little miffed at Sasuke's tone, Sakura threw her head back with the intention of smashing it into his jaw. The Uchiha read the movement easily, jerking back to avoid the impact, then completely rolling off to the side to get away from the elbow she thrusted back at him. Back on his knees, Sasuke twisted his left shoulder back in an attempt to evade Sakura's incoming fist, which caused the earth to rumble with her blow. Falling back into an awkward roll so he could ease back onto his feet, Sasuke found himself side stepping when Sakura found her own footing and began another barrage of attacks. Eyes alight with anticipation, Sasuke followed the flow of her movements until he managed to decipher her pattern; his hand caught her wrist as he twisted with her once again, forcing her to turn into him so he could land a few jabs on her side, then knocked her knee out from under her, taking her to the ground once again.

He grunted when Sakura's foot landed a solid push kick to his thigh, his knee buckling slightly. Taking advantage of Sasuke's lowered form, Sakura wrapped her legs around his waist hoping to pull him down with her weight or at least knock him off balance, but he managed to remain standing; he grasped her wrists, pulling her into his embrace, just to slam her roughly on her back, snatching the air from her lungs for the second time. He didn't wait for her to move, immediately turning her onto her back and forcing her face into the dirt with a hand tangled in her hair. A strangled, pained curse slipped from her, her hands reaching up for the hand tangled in her hair but the warning tug he made forced her to begrudgingly abandon her attempt.

"You're out."

Before Sakura could respond to concede her defeat, Sasuke adjusted so his palms braced himself on either side of her, shielding her prone form as Naruto ran towards him. The blonde's foot came in contact with his back, using him as a springboard to leap over the pair to re-engage Kakashi who had attempted to sneak up on the two of them. This time, Sasuke left her completely, rushing into the scrimmage without a second glance at her. Sakura allowed it, unfolding herself from the uncomfortable position she was in so she could watch the fight with a pout.

She stretched her muscles a bit, her inner thighs sore from the split Sasuke's previously forced her into, hoping she'd be able to alleviate most of her aches without needing her chakra. Once she worked out the aches, she leant back onto her hands, watching with rapt fascination as her comrades flung shuriken and let loose water dragons. She was dangerously close, being seated literally in the middle of the battlegrounds, but she knew her team would be able to fight around her. Their battle went on for a while just as it often did, with Naruto eventually falling beside her, out of breath and cheek swollen like a red balloon, leaving the two Sharingan wielders to dance around the field in a game of "Who Has A Bigger Dick". She nearly rolled her eyes.

Having saved her chakra for this moment, Sakura placed her hand over a particularly nasty wound on Naruto's shoulder, which was crisp and inflamed with damage from a stray lightening technique. She soothed it, halfway focusing on her actions and halfway on the fight raging on around them, when something strange nipped at the back of her neck. She looked around, tired beryl orbs tracing what she could of the woods around her, until she noticed a few wandering shadows. Squinting, she took note of the figures—four of them, all cloaked in black and seeming to trickle from the shadows like the remnants of rain.

Anbu, she instantly realized, tensing her shoulders. They seemed to be observing the group, but not in a bad or concerning way, seeing as how they purposely made themselves known. It seemed more as if they were curious, like they just happened to be passing by, but Sakura knew better than to think that. The appearance of Anbu was never a simple coincidence. The operatives lingered for a second or so longer before disappearing back into the treeline just as eerily as they appeared. Beside her, Naruto let out an exaggerated shiver. "Man, those guys give me the creeps," He mumbled, his chin jutting out in the direction the masked shinobi went off to.

Sakura furrowed her brows a bit, hands still working on his wound. "I thought you said they were cool?"

"They are! But that doesn't mean they don't give me the creeps too," He pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then he puffed out his bruised cheeks into a slight pout. "They're always showing up out of nowhere, and you never know they're there."

Rolling her eyes, Sakura moved on from his shoulder injury to the swelling of his cheek. "That's the point, Naruto. You're not supposed to know they're there. That's why they're the best."

With that, Naruto lightly batted her hand away then laid down onto the ground, hands folded behind his head in a makeshift pillow. "Yeah well, they're still creepy."

Sakura leant back with her hands planted behind her. Canting her head to the side so Naruto could see her taunting smile and the glitter in her eyes, Sakura mused, "I suppose that means you're just as creepy since you want to join them so badly."

Naruto's head whipped around at that. "Wha—me? Sakura-chan, I'm not creepy!"

"Oi, Dobe! You're too loud!"

Naruto's attention snapped towards their dark haired teammate the moment Sasuke's reprimand reached him, his right fist shaking animatedly as he clenched it. "What was that, Teme!? I couldn't hear you over the sound of you getting your ass kicked!" The way Sasuke's face comically darkened urged a snicker from Sakura's throat, but it bubbled into full blown laughter when Naruto let out a sound that was a little too high-pitched after a shruiken embedded itself into the ground right between his legs.

Kamen

The evening air rushed against Shisui's skin, not at all unwelcome in it's advances. Being the beginning of summer, the heat hadn't quite reached it's peak and wouldn't for another week or two, but it was still warm enough to slicken his flesh with sweat. Running a hand through his hair, he allowed himself to rest against the trunk of a tree. Itachi was somewhere towards the west, likely mimicking his current actions. The two were in the middle of drills with their other two teammates when they noticed the presence of another team, but they disregarded the group to focus on their own training. They had a mission to prepare for, and this temporary fourth member needed to adjust to their frequency before their departure. They were practicing formations for the past hour and a half, figuring out the best course of travel with this faceless shinobi that Shisui couldn't figure out the name of. They would be leaving for a village at the eastern edge of Fire Country over-morrow, and this man with the blue and white dog mask had been placed on their team specifically for this mission. The Hokage claimed it had to do with his knowledge about their target, which was good for their assignment, but bad for them as they only had tonight to learn to work together.

Not too long after that other team showed up, the earth began to shake. He prepared to investigate whatever caused the trees to shake like that, but the familiar laughter of Konoha's number one knucklehead eased away whatever concern he had, so he continued to ignore the group fighting around them. Or at least, he tried to.

After half an hour of miniature explosions, curiosity had needled at him a little too much, and being a shinobi from a war-torn clan meant that his appreciation and curiosity for other's abilities was more than a little high. He made his way to the edge of the treeline, casually because he wasn't at all worried about what was going on, and when he perched into the higher branches of the redwood tree he was currently in, he couldn't help but sit and watch. He had heard of Team Seven's strange sparring techniques, which, in all actuality wasn't as strange as people made it seem, and had seen the aftermath of their sessions but he had never witnessed them firsthand. Many, if not all, shinobi teams participated in last man standing or battle royal styled sparring sessions, but they usually came with restrictions of some sort. No weapons, no ninjutsu, time restraints—things like that. But not them. Having trained with Sasuke a few times, Shisui knew the younger man wasn't pulling any punches. There was a lack of restraint as he fought with his squad, and the same could be said for the rest of them. His senpai seemed to have been taking the brunt of the battle, his hitai-ate raised to reveal his Sharingan and his Raikiri aimed for death; while Uzumaki pitched a Rasen-Shuriken and Sasuke utilized his infamous Chidori. And then there was Haruno.

Shisui hated to admit that he had never seen the pinkette fight before. He had heard of her prowess and assumed her technique to be similar to her mistress's, but then again, he didn't think he'd ever seen Tsunade-sama fight either. There was never a need for her to. He had only heard stories of Lady Hokage's monstrous strength and ability to kill a man with an innocent flick of her fingers, so did that mean Jonin Haruno had inherited that ability? So it was with raw, unfiltered fascination that he watched Haruno rip the grounds apart like some sort of heavenly deity. The way she matched Kakashi's jabs blow for blow (or rather, how he matched her blows) whilst still having the attention to block a volley of shuriken, the way she deftly dispatched his senpai's ninken with what he assumed was a sleep-inducing medical ninjutsu—it absolutely captivated him.

Her petite stature and slim frame would've suggested her skill set as being something a little different, something a little more practical for her form and skill set. Speed, for example, would've seemed more appropriate of an affinity based on her stature. Or genjutsu, because as the medic, she needed to be kept away from battle. Maybe endurance, so she had the will to evade and run. But such raw power wasn't something he had expected. Usually strength meant bulky bodies and slow movements, making the powerhouse of a group obvious, but with his Sharingan tracing every bit of her and the medic's lack of layers, he could see that her body was deceptively feminine. He was so used to seeing her in her usual red and pink attire, or even in the white coat she donned while in the hospital, and both those outfits hardly did her figure any justice. He had to confess, he rather preferred the darker colors on her than red. Then again he held a bias for darker shades due to his clan. But he supposed her unexpected strength worked to her advantage, as no one would expect the demure-bodied medic to pack a punch harder than any burly man. And being flexible to the point of being able to slip out of an enemy's hands, even for kunoichi standards, meant she could perform insane twists and combos and grapples, which made up for her slower attack speed.

Overall, she was a formidable though not unbeatable opponent.

Itachi snaked his way beside him, observing the quartet with his Sharingan blazing while Genma watched on from a few branches below and their temporary member sat on the ground, both their expressions hidden behind their masks, but Shisui knew the two were just as intrigued as he was. Haruno's fighting style was a unique one that combined powerful boxing jabs with fluid Judo-based grapples and precise kicks that were so controlled, she could change their direction without shifting on her base foot. Her small frame allowed her an advantage over her teammates, as she was able to dodge just about anything that was thrown at her. Unfortunately, it seemed stamina was not her strong suit. While her chakra levels were still relatively high, it seemed as if her body couldn't keep up. He wondered if her endurance was just that lacking, or if she was just tired from the day. Either way, a handful of her attacks were weak, half-hearted, as if she knew they wouldn't have had an affect on Sasuke even if they landed. It almost seemed as if she threw her punch just to do it, to make a statement.

After pinning Haruno for a second time, Sasuke shielded her body with his own whilst also acting as a springboard for their third teammate then rolled off her body to join in on the fight against their superior, leaving the pink haired medic to catch her breath alone. Shisui focused on her without meaning to, watching as she stretched her body in ways only kunoichi could; he ignored the quiver in his chest. He wondered how well she'd fare in a spar against him. As for Team Seven's teamwork, while needing a few adjustments, it was definitely something to marvel at, and helped Shisui understand the reasons behind their fame.

"Let's go," Itachi quietly urged then, already leaving the scene behind. Genma and their final teammate followed immediately after, but Shisui lingered a moment longer, fingers idly toying with a pendant draped loosely around his neck, just catching Haruno's eyes when she locked onto their presence.

Chapter Text

It wasn't often that Shisui grew annoyed at someone. Usually, his temper was flexible, able to shift with understanding and sympathy, and take all sides into account. Generally, he reserved the more stoic, stern attitude the Uchiha family was known for, for battles, missions, and clan meetings, and even then he considered himself to be rather lenient.

But not tonight.

He was tired and his body ached from all the traveling he had done in the past two or so weeks. Their mission to River had taken longer than expected and had a few hiccups that should not have happened. Their task was completed successfully in the end, but that did little to soothe his growing temper. For this mission, the title of Captain was passed onto Itachi as he had more knowledge about the area their target was located, than he did. Their fourth, temporary member proved to work almost seamlessly with his team, especially with Genma, but it turns out the knowledge he had about their intended target was due to their past relationship as former comrades—a tidbit of information that was not disclosed to the rest of them. Long story short, their target seemed to have an undying hatred for their temp, attacking him blindly and with a sloppy bloodlust that even the prodigal Itachi seemed to struggle formulating a plan for. His past sentiment could've endangered their mission and their lives. And that's why Shisui found himself fuming silently the whole day and a half trek back to the village.

He would make sure to put a bit more research into all future temps from now on.

After delivering a written report of their assignment to the Hokage Tower's night watch, the team dispersed, leaving Shisui and Itachi to return home on their own. He considered heading to the local watering hole with Genma for a late night drink, but his worn muscles thought otherwise so he silently followed Itachi towards their home. "Well, that was quite a development," Itachi mumbled now that it was just the two of them. His shoulders slacked slightly, indicating that he was more exhausted than he led on.

Shisui grunted, his own aches beginning to fully reveal themselves now that their adrenaline had simmered down. "Yeah, he's never working with us again. I don't give a fuck how skilled he is," He said, quietly, then mumbled more so to himself, "I would've had him written up for withholding information."

The younger Uchiha made a noise of agreement. "Aa, but perhaps the best punishment is knowing that he has been blacklisted from our squadron."

Disheveling his already messy hair with his hand and ignoring the pain that shot up his spine at the movement, Shisui allowed a sigh to escape his lips, then brought that same hand to Itachi's shoulder. "Otsukare, Taichou," He said, smiling beneath his mask despite his sour mood. While he couldn't see it, Shisui knew something resembling a smile was hiding beneath Itachi's mask. He patted his younger cousin's shoulder twice to solidify his thanks, then dropped his hand back to his side, comfortably.

Once in the security of the Uchiha compound, they removed their masks, both nearly sighing in relief as the summer air rushed against their cheeks, unfiltered. He couldn't wait to finally shed his armor and crawl into bed, eat a warm meal and shower; and judging by the thin line forming between his cousin's brows, Itachi couldn't either. Perhaps if he escorted Itachi all the way to the main house Mikoto-obasan would apply some ointment to his wounds before he went home. It wasn't often that he returned home injured, after all. Being an Uchiha meant that he had an advantage over ninjutsu and genjutsu, and while he was currently considered the fastest ninja in the village, he wasn't so arrogant as to say he was untouchable. It just so happened that their target specialized in weapons just like their temp to a higher degree, and it wasn't often that he fought against someone so adept at bukijutsu.

A loud shout reached their ears, making the two Anbu operatives pause, then after sharing a knowing glance, the two begrudgingly re-applied their masks and hurried down the street, towards the rising voices. They shouldn't have been surprised to find Uzumaki and Sasuke standing just outside of the Uchiha's private training grounds, seemingly in the middle of one of their usual arguments when they arrived. The blond's arms were folded across his chest indignantly, nose flaring and cheeks flushed while Sasuke leaned his weight to his left foot, hand resting precariously over his Kusanagi. Despite the slackening of his shoulders, Shisui growled. He really did not have enough patience for this tonight.

"Oi," he barked, startling the two, but not quite enough for them to change positions. "It's late. You're disturbing the peace."

Sasuke jutted his chin into the blond's direction with a scowl. "He's the one making all the noise. He's drunk." The faint glaze to Sasuke's eyes told Shisui that he held a bit of responsibility for the racket, but the eldest Uchiha didn't comment on it.

"You're drunk too, Teme!" Naruto retorted, jabbing his finger into Sasuke's chest roughly enough for the ravenette to take a step back. "Don't act all big and bad now that your brother and his guard dog are here!"

Guard dog?

"You better move your finger before I rip it off, Dobe," Sasuke warned, scarlet flickering in his gaze when Naruto leaned a little too far into him.

"Sasuke," Itachi's voice flittered about, his soft tone disguising his own tired warning. "Come, before Otou-san hears of this." He set his hand atop his brother's shoulder, pushing gently to direct Sasuke towards their home, leaving Shisui alone with the knucklehead.

"Yeah Teme, go before Otou-san hears of this." Uzumaki mocked, waving his hand dismissively.  Had he been in a better mood, Shisui would have been pleasantly amused at seeing the tense jump in Itachi's shoulders and the look of pure anger on Sasuke's face as he tried to whip around in Itachi's grasp.

With an annoyed sigh and a sharp pain in his side, Shisui mimicked his cousin's actions of snatching the drunk Jonin by the back of the neck, intent on directing Naruto towards the entrance of the district but without the gentleness Itachi employed. Naruto followed the silent command with a low grumble under his breath, stumbling a bit here and there. Part of the Anbu operative wanted to just let the drunk man fall on his face, but knew it would've been cruel of him, so he made sure to keep a tight grip on the back of his shirt to keep him from falling over.

It wasn't unusual to find Team Seven's members inebriated during their time off, just like it wasn't that unusual for the two young men on the team to squabble, but normally Uzumaki was a friendly drunk and their petal-haired teammate was the peacemaker. She stepped in before anyone else ever had to, reprimanding them with a smack to their heads and dragging the boys by the backs of their necks to wherever it was she took them, so he was more than a bit surprised to see that she was absent. He wondered why.

Naruto suddenly shrugged his way out of Shisui's grip, floundering over his own feet, his tanned hand waving to gesture the Uchiha's dismissal. Shisui's brow twitched.  "I'm goin' to Sakura's," Naruto grumbled with a slur, putting a little too much weight on his left foot and nearly toppling over. "I don't need your help!"

Naruto began stalking off, his pace set off by his stumble which only made the Uchiha roll his eyes. He knew that if he took Naruto home, the stubborn boy would've drunkenly wandered back out on the streets to find his female teammate anyway. Who knew what kind of mischief he'd dig his nose into then?  And Kushina certainly wouldn't approve of him leaving her son to his own devices, even if he had been dismissed by him.  Quickly reaching Naruto again, Shisui grabbed him by the scruff just as Haruno often did and led him more forcefully towards the direction of the rosette's apartment.

Kamen

The knock at her door startled her, forcing Sakura to scurry across her apartment whilst pulling the first article of clothing she could over her head. It was an unusual time of night, nearing morning, she noted upon seeing the moonlight pouring through her living room window, which only stirred her concern further. Anyone who bothered to come by her home this late into the night, couldn't be coming by for a casual visit.

Nearly throwing her door open, Sakura faltered at the entrance when she found herself face to face with one of the most beautiful Anbu masks she had ever seen. It was a variation of a wolf, with short ears pointed in attention at the top of his head. The holes for the eyes were panted widely and with a heavy, feminine slant, appearing to take up a good portion of the face and accented by just a light rim of scarlet that curled upwards at the ends. The forehead bore a red enso formed by a single brushstroke, just like Amaterasu was pictured to have, with red tomoe above each eye like maro-mayu. She stepped back, stunned by the man at her doorstep, and she searched her mind for that mask's design because she knew she's seen it before but she couldn't pinpoint the owner.

"A-ah Okami-san," She all but gasped, bowing slightly. Her cheeks flushed, not just because of her rush or because she wasn't sure whether to address him by his rank or by his mask, but because of her embarrassment at being seen dressed in just an oversized shirt that she was sure belonged to Sasuke, and tiny shorts that couldn't even be seen from beneath it. She wasn't even wearing a bra! Her appearance certainly wasn't an appropriate one, especially when in the presence of a shinobi as prestigious as the one before her. Her heartbeat quickened; if an Anbu member was at her door, then something really bad must have happened.

"Haruno-san," the masked shinobi regarded, now pushing something—or rather, someone—in front of him. "I believe this belongs to you."

His voice was familiar, yet not, as she couldn't think of the face the deep, muffled voice matched. There was something in his tone though that unsettled her. The amount of authority in his voice was piercing, heavy, and it sent chills weaving up and down her spine. That paired with the battle-worn outfit and the specks of blood that had dried to the porcelain of his mask invoked a strange sensation in her belly. Redirecting her attention, she took note of Naruto, drunkenly slouched against the deadly operative's grip and mumbling indignantly. The masked man held him at arms length by the collar at the back of his neck, seemingly being the only thing to hold the blond up on his own two feet at this point. All embarrassment Sakura had for her state of dress flew out the window as she pieced the scene together, and it took almost all her willpower to keep from punching her teammate across the street.

She should have known that at least one of the two would've ended up in her apartment tonight. They had invited her to their favorite bar, Iyasare, or rather, Naruto had and Sasuke silently agreed to tag along while Kakashi went off to do whatever it was that he did. Neither Sai nor Yamato hadn't been there either, as they were both busy with their own respective assignments. She went, enjoyed a bottle and a quick meal with the two but left early since she had an early shift the next day. Well, that and she had some things to take care of at home.  She should have known that the two would've stirred up some trouble sometime in the night with her absence. She would have been worried if they hadn't.

Instead of clobbering the drunk man on her doorstep, Sakura grabbed Naruto by the ear, immediately drawing whines of pain and protest from him, then forced him to her side with a fake smile and a glare. "Aha, I apologize for my teammates' actions," She began, laughing somewhat awkwardly despite herself. "I hope they didn't cause too much of a disturbance." She felt Naruto's cheek burrowing into her waist, nuzzling her like a cat, while his hands lazily rested at the small of her back. a little too low on her hip. She resisted the urge to smack him.

The Anbu member merely stared back at her, the smile on his mask appearing more like a sneer in the dim lighting.  Without so much as a tilt to his head, the Wolf said, "Please be sure to keep your teammates better leashed, Haruno-san."

Normally, a comment like that would've angered her, especially when it regarded the man currently curled into her side. And it did, just not as much as it usually would have. There was something in the man's tone that hinted towards something more playful rather than malicious, something almost teasing, but was mostly hidden by that stoic voice that all Anbu employed. She brushed the comment aside with the wave of her hand, all but shoving Naruto into her living room with her foot despite his curses. "Of course! My apologies, Okami-san."

Neither of them moved for a moment. Sakura hissed at Naruto from her doorway, trying not to fidget under the unknown shinobi's gaze, while the tall man simply observed her. The air between them was still and thick with a tension that Sakura couldn't quite name. She couldn't see his eyes, as they were as black as the paint that surrounded them, nor did he move his head in the slightest, but she wondered if his eyes were dragging up and down her form. Nervousness made her stomach feel oddly hollow. Could he feel her anxiety? Clamping down on the urge to fidget, Sakura nibbled at her lip, unaware of the flint eyes now studying the action.  She tried to find the words to dismiss the man so she could deal with the problem that was Uzumaki Naruto, but found her words stuck in her throat as a faint, coppery sent reached her nose.  Her sense of smell may not have rivaled the Izuzuka's or even Kakashi-sensei's, and the breeze pushed the scent away almost as soon as she caught it, but she knew what blood smelled like. And then she noticed that he seemed to be favoring his right leg for his weight rather than evenly distributing it on both feet as Anbu were drilled to do. He was injured. Suddenly, Sakura felt extremely guilty that he had to deal with her squad mates in his condition.

The desire to reach out, to press a hand with warm healing chakra against the masked man's chest was almost overwhelming, but she knew better. Anbu had their own protocols when it came to injuries, and trying to help him would be breaking some pretty serious rules.  So she busied her hand by fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

After what seemed like forever, Okami-san finally nodded his head and turned away, his movements somewhat stiff from his injuries. With her heart in her throat, Sakura moved to close the door, preparing to let loose her own flurry of curses at Naruto for his antics when she heard a soft voice reach her.

"Good night, Haruno-san."

She shut the door quickly but quietly after returning the goodbye with her own curt one. Currently, Naruto was dragging himself along the floor, his path seemingly obstructed by one of her boots laying in front of him. As annoyed as she was, she couldn't resist releasing a snicker as the blond pulled her boot against his chest to cuddle, nuzzling it like he had her belly. Stepping over his body to enter the kitchen, Sakura shook her head not just at her teammate, but at herself as well. She tried to tell herself that the voice she heard eminating from the Anbu member's mask was not heavy or breathy, that he did not purr her surname as if he knew what she was up to earlier. Because ninja like Okami-san didn't speak in voices like that.

Kamen

Sakura glanced down at the clipboard in her arms, skimming the information neatly scrawled along the page with a yawn. Her night with Naruto had been a long and exhausting one, and not even in a good way. He kept waking her up in the middle of the night, mumbling and moaning in his sleep, giving her a pretty good idea of what exactly he was dreaming about. Pervert.  And then he woke up sometime around two AM. He needed her help getting water, then he was hungry, then he was nauseous and tired and suddenly he was wide awake, asking her to join him in an early morning spar. He didn't even like early morning anythings.

She loved the blond boy to death, honestly, but she had come this close to strangling him. He was just lucky that she loved him enough to keep from locking him out on her patio for the night.

She just hoped he remembered to clean up his dishes and fold the blankets on the couch when he left, although she highly doubted he would.

Sighing, Sakura read through the patient file attached to the clipboard. Her next patient was an Uchiha; they were reported to have multiple lacerations of various severity, mostly confined to the torso and arms. There wasn't any indication of infection in the patient notes, but it mentioned tenderness along the ribs and heavy bruising along the back. She nearly sighed as she brought the paperwork to her chest, already imagining the headache she would be carrying after. Shinobi were always difficult when it came to their health, often avoiding the hospital as if it were the source of the plague, but shinobi from the high clans were the worst. They were always so sensitive and on edge, questioning her every move both silently and vocally, eyeing her with suspicion the moment she entered the room and making their chakra dance as if a show of dominance. The Uchiha were especially troublesome, as they seemed to only come around when in extremely dire situations and even then, they still flinched away from her touch. Hell, they acted as if her healing a broken foot was the same as her examining their eyes. At least the Hyuuga pretended they weren't wary of her presence. They gave her that little bit of respect.

Luckily, Uchiha Shisui was one of the friendlier ones. She had only ever healed him maybe twice before but she could confidently say that he didn't really put up much of a fight, allowing her to check him over with very little, if any, fuss and a hint of mirth. Compared to the rest of his clansmen, he was casual and open, cracking jokes every now and then whenever he was with the Uchiha heir, at least from what she's gathered in their few interactions. He even smiled. She rather liked that about him. Several of the nurses loved him also, and based on the gossip that she sometimes allowed herself to divulge in, he loved many of them too.

Stopping in front of the exam room, Sakura steeled herself and entered, that professional smile in place.

"Good afternoon Uchiha-san," She greeted with a curt bow. Shisui faced her from his spot atop the exam table, a small grin lighting up his features at her arrival. He seemed comfortable, leaning back slightly so his weight rested on his palms, looking as if he were basking on a porch rather than visiting the hospital for a healing session. His shirt and sweats had been removed, crumpled into a puddle behind his body, revealing a series of gashes along his torso, peppered with a few stray contusions along his arms. His legs weren't as abused, with the shins nursing a few reddening bruises and a puncture wound to the left thigh likely caused by a kunai. As for the bruising on the back, the description in the patient notes didn't do the actual injury justice. A multitude of hues that didn't belong on human skin spread from his shoulder, reaching as high as his neck to as low as below the waistband of his boxer-briefs. The blue-black-green splotches were garish against his pale skin, looking far more grotesque than she expected. It made her wonder if he had any internal injuries. She tsk'ed. While they weren't the most disturbing injuries she had ever seen, it didn't take away the fact that they looked awfully painful.

"Ah Haruno-sensei," He returned, his smile warm despite the pain he had to have been in. "I didn't expect that you'd be my doctor today."

She let out an amused hum at his rather cheerful demeanor. "It's not often that an Uchiha willingly checks themselves into the hospital. Surely you can understand why I couldn't pass the opportunity to be the one to work on you." She moved to stand in front of him, clipboard now on the counter a foot away, waiting patiently as her charge adjusted his necklace so the pendant fell down his discolored back before she began observing the wounds on his chest. They weren't particularly deep ones, the edges of the skin sliced cleanly. Judging by the tint of inflammation and the dark color to the top of the raised skin, these were just a few days old and had been treated with soap and water based on the dry flecks of skin around them. A few of the deeper ones also bore the remnants of some on-the-fly stitch work. She surmised they were a few days old, and that he reopened and irritated them while training recently. She resisted the urge to scoff. Typical shinobi.

Gazing out the window, Shisui shrugged despite Sakura's probing fingers. "You get to heal Sasuke-chan all the time," He pointed out, tilting his head back, exposing the length of his neck to her. He didn't miss the upturning of her lips at the nickname. "I would've thought you'd be bored of us Uchiha by now."

Sakura moved to the side so she could observe the bruising. Carefully lifting his arm, she found that the bruising wrapped around his sides, accentuating the dips of his rib cage on the right side. Some of those were angry red smears, meaning those were fresher than the rest. "Sasuke-kun is the worst, I think," She half-heartedly mumbled, more focused on her observations than on their conversation. "He gets so touchy about his injuries, always pulling away even though he's literally bleeding out. It's really annoying."

Shisui vaguely recalled a time when the word "annoying" was used to describe her by the very same young man they were talking about. They hadn't interacted enough back then for him to form an opinion of her former self and therefore couldn't compare the two, but he had heard enough stories to figure she was difficult to deal with back then. He made to respond but was cut off by a wince when Sakura applied pressure against his ribs.

Her jade eyes flickered up to meet his quizzically. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"Ah, eight," He hissed, body ramrod straight from the pain.

A cooling sensation pooled against his skin, kindly warning him that her chakra was beginning to seep into his tissue. He didn't fight it, even when the chill of ghostly fingers wound between the gaps of his ribs, but he did show his discomfort by shifting under her touch. Quickly, the discomfiture diminished however, replaced by a warmer, soothing chakra that bloomed against his skin from the inside out. Shisui's posture slackened with the warmth, but the feeling was fleeting; she withdrew her chakra all too soon and moved away from him completely. Sakura didn't speak to him as she ambled over to the cabinets above the counter, her key unlocking the mechanism. She was so focused on her rummaging that she was completely unaware of the observant gaze that traced over her.

Shisui couldn't help it.

That vexing lab coat hid her from him, obscuring his view of the curves that he never really noticed before. It was strange, because he never would have cared for the soft slopes of her silhouette or for the rising swell of her breasts and hips, if he hadn't seen what she looked like beneath all those layers. Just remembering the incurve of her slim waist, dusted with dirt and glistening with a sheen of sweat, summoned a different kind of heat within Shisui's belly; it swarmed just below his navel, mockingly. Kunoichi in general were often pretty to look at and fun to touch, of that he had firsthand knowledge, so it shouldn't have come as that much of a surprise that Sakura, who was one of the most talented kunoichi in all of Konoha, wouldn't be any different. But it did. Maybe it was because he had never seen her in that kind of light before. He never thought to. And now that he had gotten a glimpse of what was hidden beneath that bulky coat and the baggy red blouse, it was safe to say his interest was piqued.

Then his thoughts wandered back to just the other night, when he had delivered her intoxicated teammate to her apartment doorstep. She was hardly dressed when he arrived, wearing only a shirt that he was certain belonged to Sasuke, or maybe even Itachi based on the length. He recalled the way she shifted when he raked his eyes over her form, how she nibbled at her lower lip, and he had to admit that the little action was enough to stir that familiar heat. He could have sworn her scent was tinged with something but he had barely caught the tail end of whatever it was so he couldn't say for sure if his assumption on what she had been doing before their meeting was correct. If not for having just been with both his cousins, he would've assumed that her skin was flushed because of one of them. It surprised him, to say the least, and he would never admit it aloud and blamed the exhaustion, but a small portion of his composure nearly slipped at the image of Konoha's golden girl all flustered over her own hands.

Almost as quickly as the memory appeared, it disappeared. But Shisui did not look away.

Returning with a little blue jar, a bottle of what appeared to be antiseptic, bandages, a suturing kit and a jar of cotton swabs, Sakura set the supplies on the metal table beside him. It was with the care of a mother that Sakura now moved to examine the wounds on his arms and hands. The surface of her skin was soft, lacking the callouses most shinobi bore, and they brushed against his flesh so lightly that he wondered if she really even touched him. She didn't ask him how he sustained these injuries, seeing as how their profession made it obvious, and he didn't offer an explanation. If either of them had any concerns about poison or infection, it would've been mentioned by now, so Shisui allowed himself to relax as she applied the antiseptic to the scrapes along his forearm. His fingers stung as the fluid nipped at the thin, near invisible cuts on his hands, muscles twitching openly as she reached the deeper cuts. Once she finished disinfecting the wounds to his arms, she moved to his shoulder to examine the large bruise that spread across it like an inky blue pauldron.

Her feather-light touch still reached the hyper-sensitive skin, making him wince. Her touch grew heavier after a few experimental prods, fingers spreading across the top of his shoulder as she applied pressure with her thumb, carefully digging the digit into his shoulder blade. He felt the heat of her chakra pouring into him again at the touch, easing the pain so her light kneading wouldn't hurt as much. Her proximal knuckles rolled over the side of his shoulder blade, digging into his muscles almost uncomfortably. The heel of her right palm twisted into the flat of his wingbone. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees so she could smooth her hands down the plane of his back towards his hips, relishing in the comforting presence of her chakra as it reacted to his injuries. A guttural sigh escaped him without his permission, his lashes lowered and he tilted his head towards the side to give her better access to his tender shoulder.

The sensations her hands brought out in his muscles were welcome ones. But things were different this time. The image of the destruction she had caused to the training fields had been ingrained into his head ever since he stumbled upon her squad's training session nearly three weeks ago. He had seen those delicate hands upturn the earth like it was nothing more than a pile of blankets on a bed. Those hands shattered tree trunks as if they were made of glass. Those deceptively tiny hands were a complete contrast to the ones that eased pleasantly over his body. How hands that could break through mountains could also tear out such pleasurable sensations was beyond him.

It wasn't protocol to heal superficial things like contusions, as it would just be a waste of time and chakra, nor were massages, but Sakura must have taken pity on him. The first and last times that Shisui played patient, Sakura had kneaded him in a way similar to this, just without the chakra. She was grumbling at the time, saying something about shinobi being so careless about their bodies, garnering physical perfection just to ruin their muscles and bones over poor after-care. She claimed that regular massage regardless of how short, not only alleviated pain, but could also reduce fatigue and eliminate toxins in the body, which was why she took the extra measure to do it for her patients, if time allowed it. He wasn't sure just how true all that was, but he definitely wasn't going to argue with her about that.

Impishly, he wondered what else those dangerous hands of hers could do.

Shisui remained silent when Sakura's hands left his skin after a little while, leaving the worked tissue cold despite the heat that swam beneath it. The expanse of his back still ached, but the pain was much duller than it had been. Turning his head, he could see that the discoloration remained, although the darker hue had shrank somewhat in size, leaving behind yellow smudges in its wake. The ache persisted, but was much more tolerable now than it had been.

"I didn't heal all of the bruising," Sakura began, sinking her fingers into the blue jar once again. "It's healthy to let the tissue heal itself for things like that, but I treated just enough of it to alleviate the pain in the more easily agitated places like the shoulder and ribs."

"Thank you."

She offered a small smile in response. After dabbing the disinfectant about his lacerations, Sakura moved on to applying a salve to them. The ointment was icy at first, especially when applied to the larger injuries such as the gash on his left pectoral; the muscles rippled as she carefully smeared the substance on the raised bit of skin and he sucked in a breath in discomfort. She glanced up at him, hand frozen against his chest. "Sorry," She hummed, dabbing her finger against it again albeit even more gently. Her breath fanned over the wet skin, causing it to raise with goosebumps rather pleasantly. He swallowed his grunt when her nail brushed against his nipple. Something within him wondered if that was on purpose, but he fiercely doubted that.

Finished with that particular laceration, Sakura straightened to full height again. Shisui tracked her movements with an openly curious eye that nearly made her shift on her feet. She resisted the wave of anxiety that seemed to crash into her from out of nowhere, her hand flattening against his chest as she encouragingly pressed him down against the cushioned exam table. "Please lay back," She instructed. He did so, a roguish simper now on his lips.

"Ne, Haruno-sensei," He murmured, his fingers enveloping her wrist when she reached for him, rubbing over the thin skin above her veins. Her body stilled at the contact. He could tell she wasn't pleased too with him now. Ignoring the look of warning that marred her face, which honestly only stirred his amusement further, Shisui laid flat against the exam table. "I didn't realize you were so hands on. If you wanted to take advantage of me, all you had to do was ask."

Her cheeks pinkened obviously with her fluster but her brows furrowed in contrast. She didn't respond, but the way her once gentle hand roughly smeared the ointment over the long and awfully tender cut in his side was enough of a response for him. His chuckle dissolved into a grunt, but his smirk refused to leave his face.

Chapter Text

Tsuande had never looked as angry as she did now.

As one of her two apprentices, Sakura had seen the blonde Hokage in a multitude of moods, furious included, but whatever she felt now was foreign to her. The blonde Hokage's posture told her that she was tired as she leant against her elbows. Her thin brows were knitted, drawing a series of wrinkles across her forehead and her nose was scrunched in displeasure. And yet, Sakura could see that her mentor's gaze was soft. Team Seven stood before her, postures straight despite the clear raggedness that adorned them, acting like the good shinobi they were, and features uncharacteristically hard. Even Konoha's resident loudmouth remained tight lipped for once.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"We were ambushed."

Honey eyes flickered to Sasuke, who had been the one to speak out. The younger Uchiha didn't so much as flinch at the cold expression that was painted across the Hokage's face, his own expression one of frustration. "Elaborate," Tsunade ordered, zero traces of concern laced in her voice.

Sakura's thoughts drifted as her dark haired teammate began the retelling of their mission details. The remnants of pain ghosted along her shoulder, hyper-sensitive to the material of her flak jacket at it brushed against the irritated flesh. Blood had dried to the front of the garment, having come from the relatively shallow gash across the crest of her shoulder. She had meant to heal it, but had been so focused on the stab wound to Naruto's stomach and the water-burn along Sasuke's arms to even think about her—purely cosmetic, she insisted—paper cut.

Their mission had been simple. The three of them had been sent to a small town about half a day away from Konoha called Shiroki, simply to show their presence. The little village had made complaints about a growing faction of miscreants who really weren't worth the worry; they were just some young kids who heard a few too many ninja stories and thought a sword on their hip meant they were tough. Tsunade could have sent anyone out there—a random Chunnin, one of her gatekeepers, even a squad of Gennin—to do the job, but sending Team Seven to act as an intimidation unit was smart. On the surface, they were strong-arming the low-leveled gangsters with glares and smile-hidden threats. Below that, they were sending a warning message to the Kusagakure nin that claimed to be "passing through".

They were nursing minor injuries at the time of their attack, nothing serious, just bruises and scrapes caused by scrimmages with the ragtag gang, but their attackers believed otherwise. Sakura had been the one who noticed them as early on as their first run in with the village's yanki, discretely communicating to her partners about the presence of the dozen Jonnin-ranked nin, and forged the plan of goading whoever they could into battle and over exaggerating the extent of their injuries. Their attackers underestimated the three because of this, believing Sakura had run low on chakra after healing her two exhausted and disoriented teammates, and that lapse in judgment proved fatal for them. Rather than encircling three bloody and limping Konoha-nin, the rogues were reverse-ambushed before they could even finish their speech about removing Sasuke's eyes.

She was just so incredibly furious that not only did someone threaten her family, but that those specks of scum talked about ripping out an eyeball as if it were just a kunai in someone else's pouch. She was so angry, in fact, that she was the one who initiated the first punch. That punch had been filled with so much rage, so much chakra, that her knuckles burned even now. She fell at least four dozen trees and upturned what had to have been a mile of earth with that punch.  A little overkill, but well deserved.

Naruto and Sasuke had followed her lead by then, and together they managed to defeat every single one of those bastards. Except one. He had been taken prisoner and was having a lovely chat with one of the most bloodthirsty men in all the nations as they spoke.

Discreetly, Sakura shifted her attention to the three imposing figures that stood silently in the room.

Her stomach churned as she carefully studied the masked men standing before her. Something in the atmosphere put the rosette on edge without her realizing it. She blamed the waning adrenaline. Two were on either side of her Shishou, standing sentinel just behind her while the third stood behind her team. The hoods of their cloaks were pulled over their heads, their arms crossed against their chest parting the front of the black cloth to reveal the familiar pale white armor and animal-like masks. She recalled that the mask behind her was mostly unadorned, taking on the shape of some sort of feline or ferret with short, slightly rounded ears at the top edges of the head. A scarlet triangular stripe dripped from the forehead to the slope of the pert little nose, and three black dots were perched above each eye hole going from large at the inner eye to small. It's mouth was painted in a way that could have been a smile, but at another angle, appeared flat and unimpressed. The mask to the left of Tsunade appeared to be a mixture of a fox and a feline; it had a short but small nose, indicated by two little dashes along the underside, and two pairs of red lines painted like a loose wave along each cheek. The ears were long, pointed, and so far up on the head that they nearly connected, positioned like an anxious cat. He had been the one to apprehend the prisoner. The last mask with the wolfish smile, she immediately recognized.

She vaguely remembered seeing these masks back in the forest, during the ambush. They and several other Anbu operatives had appeared from the trees, slinking out of the branches like a bad omen. She had only noticed them when she had taken down one particularly annoying opponent, and once she had, she couldn't not see them. A shiver threatened to reveal itself as Sakura thought back to her battle, and how potent the weight of what felt like a thousand eyes was to her. She had only seen seven of them, but she knew there had to have been more watching from their hiding places. The thought of being surrounded by such powerful shinobi like that, being the focus of their attention, both terrified and entranced her.

Okami-san's mask shifted ever so slightly, so unnoticeable that she was sure it was a trick of the light. He had caught her staring. Sakura immediately looked away. The discomfort in her belly shifted, transitioning into something entirely different. She suddenly felt very warm. The memories of their last meeting, of her essentially naked on her doorstep, pushed to the front of her thoughts, mocking her. She forced down her blush.

Tsunade rubbed her thumbs over her temples with a frustrated grunt, which snapped for Sakura's attention. "Good job Team Seven. I'll be sure to relay your achievements to your squad leader," She praised, closing her eyes. "Get yourselves checked out. Sakura, I need you to stay for a moment." The men of the team left the room without a fuss, simply sharing a glance with their female counterpart before moving to stand right outside the door like they always would. When the door shut, Tsunade rose from her seat, rounding her desk to lean back against the front of it with her arms folded across her chest. "Sakura," She began.

"Shishou?"

"Good job out there," Tsunade gruffly commented. "I'm proud of you."

Part of Sakura felt uncomfortable for having such an intimate moment with her mentor with a handful of spectators, but she supposed it wasn't as if she had a choice. They wouldn't say anything unless spoken to, or if they felt it absolutely necessary, and it wasn't as if this was her first time in their presence. She knew Anbu members were always lurking around, unseen, whether it be in the marketplace or in the Hokage's office; she knew they were perched just below the Hokage's window where she would lounge whilst reading a scroll, always within hearing distance, and she was okay with that. Out of sight, they remained out of mind. But now, with not just one but three in the room, a furious whirlwind of anxiety and excitement and fear quickened her heartbeat.

Pushing aside her nerves, Sakura bowed in response to Tsunade's praise, thanking her quietly but with a grin. An experienced hand hovered over Sakura's shoulder where blood had dried over her wound, glowing with emerald chakra and carefully knitting the sliced tissue together. Immediately, Sakura tried to explain herself. "I meant to heal that. I just wanted to take care of—"

Leaning back against her desk, Tsunade waved her right hand once in a gesture that silenced Sakura. "While I understand your reasons, you still should have paid better attention to yourself," She scolded, but not unkindly. "You shouldn't have gotten injured in the first place, Sakura."

"I know."

The two women remained silent for a stint, their conversation muted and revealed only through their eyes. Finally, Tsunade's low growl reached the room, "To talk about stealing the eyes of an Uchiha so callously—from an heir no less—that's asking for death." Their eye contact broke when Tsunade stared down at her desk. "The Uchiha are going to want blood for this. I want you there when Ibiki interrogates the bastard. I want to know who they worked for, if they worked for someone."

If Sakura was surprised, she did not let on. Instead, there was a tantalizing fire in her voice when she spoke. "Of course."

"Heal him a thousand times if you have to. I want him to understand exactly what it means to cross the Leaf."

"Understood."

The Hokage glanced over her shoulder at the Anbu with the wolf-like grin, prompting him to stand a little straighter. Her nod was nearly non-existent, but she knew the masked shinobi understood exactly what she meant to convey. He gifted a nod in response, his stomach rising slightly as his presence flickered, and then he was gone.

Kamen

It wasn't often that Sakura had the pleasure of visiting the Intelligence Center. It was a rather medium sized building, it reached three stories tall and was topped with a bright orange rooftop, a sign outside indicating it's purpose. This building housed the Analysis Team, a branch of the Security and Surveilance Unit, and the Torture and Interrogations Unit, and was therefore considered the most secure structure in the village besides the Hokage's Mansion. It was guarded all hours of the day and night by not only the Police Force, but by Jonnin and even Anbu as well. Yet despite the guaranteed security, Sakura always felt nervous whenever she came around.

It wasn't as if the place was dark and dreary. The inside was actually very bright, perhaps too bright, and very, very clean. Maybe even cleaner than the hospital. And the men and women who worked inside weren't all cold people. In fact, most of them were very friendly, often waving at her or gifting a nod as she passed. Hell, many of them were patients of hers once, and very few of them gave her any impression that this was their profession. Perhaps it was because of that false sense of well, not innocence per say, but normalcy, that made her so uneasy whenever she came around. Some of the most painful, most disturbing injuries were acquired here, yet no one would ever know unless they were cleared to enter the lower levels.

Arriving at the front entrance of the building, Sakura paused before the two Jonnin who were on guard duty. She recognized one from their healing session a few days prior, but the other she wasn't so sure of. There were a lot of people in Konoha, after all. "I'm here on behalf of Hokage-sama," She informed, flashing her hospital badge. They scanned over her body and her badge, making sure she wasn't a fake, she figured, before they nodded and pulled the doors open for her. A masked man stood almost immediately to her right, a bulge at the front of his cloak indicating his arms were crossed beneath it, and his upper body pressed against the wall. The stance threw her off a bit. Anbu were trained to stand tall and at attention at all times during their shift, even while on "break". She had never seen one look so comfortable or disinterested before.

"Haruno-san." The operative pushed away from the wall, already walking further into the building. "The prisoner is ready for you."

"Okami-san," She greeted once over her initial shock. She followed after him, quickly catching up to Okami's form in a few quick strides. "How is he?"

The man in the mask glanced at her, his head tilted slightly as if he were confused by her inquiry. "Does it matter?"

They paused at the end of the hall where a lone plexiglass window greeted them; the man behind the window leaned forward at their appearance and pushed a clipboard through the opening of the glass in exchange for Sakura's ID badge. Huffing, Sakura scrawled her name on a clipboard. "I need to know what I'm walking into."

Sakura knew Ibiki's work better than almost anyone, seeing as how she worked closely with him on more than a few high priority cases like this. That man was beastly with his interrogations, with his methods ranging from brutal, bare knuckled beatings to sensory deprivation, to being confined in a stressful position for an undetermined amount of time. Knowing which technique or combination of techniques he used meant she could adjust her role accordingly as well as formulate a healing plan for her...patient.

All the Anbu said though, as he gestured to the door to the left of the window, was, "Knowing the status of his condition is beyond my directive."

Displeased, Sakura dropped the conversation then, and he didn't bother reawakening it. She approached the door, patiently waiting for the obnoxious buzzer to go off before pushing it open. No one looked up when she entered, all too focused on whatever it was they were doing to acknowledge her. Okami led her past the lines of desks and into the elevator, where she clicked the button for the basement then pressed a hand against the sensor and allowed her chakra to trickle through. The lift came to life, jerking abruptly at first before it lowered.

When they finally reached the lower level, where the T&I unit mostly operated, Okami took her to one of the windows near the middle of the hall, pausing to allow her to peer through the one-way glass. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the bloody and beaten man in front of her. He was secured flush against the wall by a series of cuffs that encircled him by the neck and the wrists, leaving him sprawled out defenselessly. Despite this, he held his chin high even with the blood that caked it, his chest fluttering with shallow breaths likely caused by a punctured lung. His red hair was plastered to his face, now nearly black in color and matted with blood and sweat while his lips bore a nasty split in two separate places. Sakura clicked her tongue at the sight, but didn't seem too bothered. She's seen much worse. She knocked on the window in a coded succession, indicating to Ibiki and his assistant that she was there, then entered the room with her escort. She acknowledged the infamous figure that sat almost casually atop the table centered in the room with a deep, respectful bow.

"Haruno," He welcomed with a hum. "He's all yours."

Ibiki rose to his full height, easily towering over everyone in the room, then made his way out the door without much more of a comment. His assistant bowed to Sakura, gathering the bloodied instruments scattered on the table before also departing from the room. Her Anbu guard remained silent, deciding to settle into the corner beside the entrance while Sakura got to work on repairing the injuries her comrade created.

Sakura didn't make an effort to abate any pain or numb any wounds, indicated by the darker forest green glow of her usually sea foam green chakra. Her hands worked over the man's chest, a fair amount of distance between them unlike the close, almost intimate closeness she used on all of her patients. The man jerked at her touch, letting out a haggard groan that increased in octave as she worked. She would treat him just enough to keep him from the threat of death, leaving him almost as broken and hurt as before her arrival. In their next meeting, she would heal him completely, using a slightly more soothing chakra, giving him a false sense of security, just for that comfort to shatter when Ibiki upped the intensity of his following session. Tsunade taught her that while her main priority was to prevent death in the intended in situations like this, it was also her unvoiced duty to make sure the affects of his interrogation lingered throughout the entirety of his stay until he either cracked and spilled whatever information they had to Ibiki, or was deemed useless and put out of his misery.

She would've cried once, just thinking of using her abilities this way. And she had. She had vehemently refused abusing her skills because as a medic, she was meant to heal and save. She sniffled and her knees shook the first few times, her stomach emptying almost as soon as she stepped foot in her home. Ino, Naruto and Sasuke were her crutch back then. But that was a long time ago, when she was young and naive.

"Okami-san," She called out, satisfied with her work. The officer immediately straightened. "I'm finished here."

Kamen

Steam rolled against Shisui's skin comfortingly, filling the bathroom until it resembled the mist in Kirigakure. He swiped his palm against the foggy mirror to take in his appearance, his mask laying innocently in the bowl of his sink and his armor abandoned in his living room, basking in that slight chill the glass offered his skin while his other hand disheveled his hair. A grimace made its way to his face as he felt the oils of sweat in his scalp, his nails jostling the dirt that had tangled in his hair. He tugged his shirt over his head quickly, almost angrily, before balling it and dropping it into the hamper against the wall.

He took in the remnants of his weeks-old injuries, gently probing the once tender suture sites but finding them no more sensitive than there rest of his skin. Pleased that he hadn't reopened any (because he technically wasn't supposed to be doing such strenuous activities yet), Shisui braced himself against the counter, dipping his head, then bowing and his twisting spine to stretch the kinks in his sore back with a harsh grunt. After a few minutes of this, he returned to his previous position hunched over the counter, frowning as a sharp pain abruptly bloomed at the front of his skull.

"God damn it," He cursed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm.

Exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, beating against his shoulders mercilessly, demanding he retreat into the comfort of his shower at that exact moment but he resisted. As much as he ached now, he couldn't find the will to step into his shower quite yet because he knew that if he did, if he stepped into the comfort of the heated downpour, he would be washing away the adrenaline that kept him upright.

He and his team should have arrived home hours ago. Their mission was easy enough, just taxing in more than one sense of the word. It was a week long affair that required the upmost delicacy and around-the-clock surveillance, and ended in a drawn out battle against Kirigakure's Anbu equivalent. Itachi had taken the reigns again, mostly because Shisui wanted his younger cousin to gain more experience and hardly because he felt the weight of the world on his bruised shoulders. And when they finally eliminated all of their targets and struck down their opponents and made the grueling fifteen hour trek back to their village, of course they had another delay.

A match seemed to have struck against the blood in Shisui's veins then, as he recalled the little hiccup that earned him a few extra hours of paperwork.

Flashback

The fire crackled, popping as it's flamed skirt danced around in intricate steps. Shisui stared blankly into it, his mask firmly set in place and his elbows propped loosely upon his knees. He was exhausted, his muscles sore; he couldn't wait to scrub all the sweat and grime away from his skin and wash his hair and turn in for the night. They were so close to Konoha that this stop was unnecessary, but the detour was more for Itachi's sake than his own. Genma didn't seem to mind the break either way, having busied himself with a series of stretches while the cousins settled in. Despite Itachi's indifferent exterior, Shisui knew the younger man was dreading their return home; he could see it in the way is cousin's shoulders tensed and how his neck muscles twitched at the mention of their village. Something had happened between him and his father, something that bothered Itachi so much that he hadn't spoken to even him about it, which worried the older Uchiha a bit.

Itachi would talk to him about it in time, so long as he didn't push the subject, so Shisui thought it best to leave it be until then.

He had a pretty good idea what their last conversation was about, anyway. As young as he and Itachi were, they were both considered old enough for a family according to their profession. Itachi especially was at the prime age to take a wife and bear an heir of his own, but it was pretty well known by now that he did not see that in his near future. As much as he loved the clan, he loved his work and village more. Itachi wouldn't even bother attempting to pretend he was ready to cross that bridge regardless of how much his father pushed, as he felt there was still too much to be done, and that his skills were still needed in the village. Shisui forced down the chuckle that bubbled in his throat; with how heavily his uncle pressed Itachi to take over his position, it almost seemed as if Fugaku really just wanted Itachi to take over so he could retire early.

The leaves overhead shivered then, instantly snapping Shisui out of his thoughts just in time for him to ground himself as the world began to quake. Subconsciously, his hand darted out towards his cousin's shoulder as if to steady him.

"What the fuck was that?" Genma asked once the ground's shuddering ceased. Birds flew overhead, screeching with warning as they darted towards the direction of the village, prompting the men to quickly climb the nearest trees to get a better view of the sea of branches. Sure enough, they found smoke swirling about the air quite a way's away, with several more columns of dust rising with bursting aftershocks. Judging by the distance away, that was sector eight, and would've been patrolled by a squad led by a man they knew as Fukuro.

Fire burst from the rustling treeline, unnatural winds making leaves and dust flutter, followed by neon blue streaks of lightning and a ferocious roar that would've made a normal man grimace.

Dropping to the ground just to kick dirt into the small fire, Shisui quickly sprinted in the direction of the commotion with his heartbeat in his ears. Itachi and Genma followed, adrenaline making them forget about the fatigue that weighed on them just minutes ago. They were too close to the village to ignore this. In his head, Shisui took stock of his remaining weapons; his tanto was fastened securely to his back, while his pack was heavy with five shuriken and a kunai. Not exactly the best arsenal to have in battle, but it would have to do.

He spotted several other shadows darting between the trees, likely other squads that were nearby, as they too rushed to investigate the disturbance around them. He ignored them, but kept his ears open as Genma questioned a tanuki-faced operative that flanked his side. All he was able to gather from their brief conversation was that an exhausted Jonnin squad was last seen in this area, having been reported by the previous sector's patrol on their return towards the village, meaning the squad was likely attacked while returning from a mission. He withheld a growl; shinobi were their weakest when on their way home, especially when they were so close to their village. Their guards were often left down due to their success and likely fatigued from travel and battle, making then the best time for an ambush. What a dirty, underhanded tactic.

Being a member of Anbu, Shisui couldn't say he didn't participate in similar, unconscionable stratagem. It was just different when it happened to his comrades.

He stopped a way's away from the battle's epicenter, close enough to observe but far enough away to remain undetected, encircling the battlefield with the other Anbu, and what he saw stunned drew a breath from his chest.

Team Seven stood at the center of what was once a blockade of trees. They were scattered, toppled trees and bodies surrounding them. Kakashi's squad fought against unknown faces, likely nukenin based on the lack of identifying markings and the coverings on the faces of their fallen comrades. The Kyuubi Jinchuuriki faced a handful of them, shadow clones disintegrating and reappearing as they ganged up on both his opponents and those of his teammates. Two of the smaller-bodied rogues had the mind to take on Sasuke as a pair, using mirroring taijutsu to distract the Uchiha who seemed to struggle as stray ninja attempted to join in every now and then. Shisui nearly tsk'ed; his baby cousin may have been proficient in taijutsu, but it appeared it was still something they would have to work on a bit more in the near future. And finally, there was Haruno. She took on everyone that came close enough, tearing them away from her teammates and taking them down with expertly timed attacks. She appeared overwhelmed for a stint, but didn't falter even when the nukenin smartened up and pitted her against a man who wielded a sword in his left hand and attacked her with movements so fast, Shisui considered activating his Sharingan.

He and the other Anbu remained hidden, waiting for the proper moment to intervene, if they even had to at all. He held little doubt that Team Seven would be able to hold their own; Itachi must have felt the same since he gestured for his squadron to stand down, as did the other captains a moment later. He tried to focus on the fight as a whole, vision darting from Sasuke to Haruno, back to Sasuke and then to Uzumaki; but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the rosette for long, to the point that he found her without his permission.

He recalled her sparring session with her squad. It had been a while—a week? Two?—but her unique way of fighting had been ingrained in his head ever since. She wasn't exactly holding back then, none of them were, but seeing her now in the midst of a real fight sent his skin rising in a mixture of captivation and arousal. If he was impressed back then, he was in absolute awe now. Her evasion skills were incredible, as she ducked and side-stepped and weaved in and out of her opponent's range of attack, which was to be expected given the nature of her occupation. She held her strikes cautiously, only striking when she had a clear view of her target, and every single blow was accompanied by an explosion of earth and dust. It was clear to him, however, that she was at a disadvantage here, as she obviously struggled with finding openings to get close enough to land an attack. Being a taijutsu specialist, kenjutsu was her likely one of her major weaknesses as it kept her just out of arm's reach, but she didn't seem too concerned about that. She transitioned from a high kick to a low one in seconds, not even needing to shift her position as she did so, then twirling on her planted heel to deliver a roundhouse kick that sent her opponent skidding across the ground and into a tree.

She didn't follow up with the attack as he expected her too.

Instead, Haruno remained in place, chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal, watching the rogue clamber to his feet. And it was in that moment, that Shisui caught a particular glint in her eye. It wasn't the same kind of mirth that he had seen during her spar with her teammates, but rather, one that dripped with unfiltered mischief. She was enjoying this. A smirk tugged at the Uchiha's lips as he watched the Jonin taunt her opponent with the wave of her forward hand, goading him to "come on". And he did. His sword slashed at her, being momentarily deflected by a wayward kunai that seemed to have come from Sasuke's direction, giving Sakura the opportunity to knock his sword hand to the side and deliver an uppercut into his chin, making Shisui commend their long-distance teamwork. The ronin stumbled back as a result of Sakura's punch, his free hand clenching his jaw, before he expertly twirled his katana around in a way that was meant to deter her. It didn't.

He faked a swipe to the right, redirecting his sword to jerk forward in an attempt at embedding into the rosette; she flipped away from it, kicking the sword into the air but the ninja deftly caught it, twirling it face-up so he could attack again all in one continuous movement. He advanced, forcing Haruno back as he swung at her, then spun on his heel to deliver a harsh kick that she bent backwards to avoid. Rather than utilizing the momentum of her dodge to perform a back flip as Shisui thought she would, Sakura dropped flat onto her back and pitched a volley of shuriken overhead in the direction of Uzumaki's fight, fluidly planting her palms on the ground above her in the same motion, then pushed back to her feet, smirking when she heard a pained "shit!" from an enemy. Her opponent was on her within the blink of an eye, slashing at her desperately, angrily. He nicked her once or twice, drawing blood to splatter against the ground, and it only seemed to make that fire in her eyes burnish brighter and brighter until finally, she gripped the blade when it had reached a downward position; blood oozed freely from her fingers, puddling below, but she didn't seem to flinch. She yanked down on the sword, pulling the man towards her, and swung her forward foot towards his head. His free arm shot up to block the hit then thrusted forward, his fist connecting with her cheek, but she had snapped his blade before she was sent careening back a few steps. Distanced again, Sakura raised her fists into her familiar stance, grin widening as her enemy threw his damaged sword to the ground with a huff.

The two reconnected, fists flying and kicks shooting out, but Jonin Haruno was in her element now.

She performed a string of seven kicks. One towards the hips with her left foot. Two with her right aimed first at the knee, the second to the waist. The next three were flutter kicks that alternated between her left and right and were all aimed higher, towards the chest. She finished with a spinning back kick to the head. Her opponent obviously struggled to keep up with her, managing to block the attacks aimed at his midsection but taking the brunt of the lower strikes. Somehow he managed to catch her ankle in her final kick, and mustered the strength to whip her to the ground. Rather than crash into the ground, however, Haruno firmly planted her hands beneath her, executing a flash kick that managed to nick the man's chin yet again. This time, a few teeth clattered to the ground.

Shisui hadn't noticed that his Sharingan had activated until he realized he was predicting their movements. The sensation was as if he were watching a movie he had seen before, a suspenseful one that had him at the edge of his seat, anxiously wondering what would happen next but also already knowing. He supposed he was experiencing secondhand bloodlust or something to that nature, what with the heat that coiled in his stomach and the fluttering in his chest, but regardless of the technical term, he was excited.

And then something happened.

There was a pained gasp, a feminine one that nearly coaxed a groan out of Shisui's throat, and the Hokage's apprentice was frozen in place. Crimson eyes narrowed, focusing on the broken blade that now pierced her right shoulder. Her right arm was raised, outstretched fingers coming just short of her opponent's chest; he was all but pressed against her, his own hands oozing blood from the other end of the blade he had stabbed her with, looking just as smug as he was surprised. Itachi shifted at Shisui's side, clearly prepared to leap into the battle despite the hand that shot out to stop him. Around them, the other Anbu began to move as well, but Shisui remained as still as possible, unable to tear his glowing gaze away from the scene before them. He waited patiently, observing the hardly there tremble of her hand. His body thrummed with heat to the point that he openly shivered.

And then she was smirking.

Trees began to shatter, the debris flew past Shisui, making him raise his arms to protect himself from the clumps of rock and branches that shot towards him. Itachi and Genma did the same, grunting as stray rocks pelted them. For a long moment, Shisui didn't move, taking a little longer than normal to process what the fuck he just saw. Haruno had punched this guy from an inch away. An inch! She didn't cock her fist back. She didn't even move. One moment, her palm was flat, fingertips outstretched and barely brushing against her opponent's chest, and the next, he had flown through at least a dozen trees and her fingers had curled into a fist. Sure enough, when the dust settled, the medic remained standing at the center of the battleground, her opponent no more than a lifeless pile of organs and limbs in the dirt. She was breathing heavily, grimacing and crying out as she yanked the blade from her shoulder. She gripped the blade, spinning on her heel and jabbing the weapon down into the trapezius of a kunoichi that had tried to get the jump on her; when the girl crumbled at Haruno's feet, the rosette pitched the same blade across the battlefield, just missing Uzumaki's head by a hair and impaling another shinobi's hand to the trunk of a tree.

Shisui committed it all to memory.

A moment passed. Then two. And then Itachi dropped to the ground, followed by several other operatives, but their presence only seemed to stun her momentarily. He dropped down as well, directly in front of her and so close that he could make out every mark that marred her form, quickly assessing the extent of her injuries. She met his eyes—all of their eyes—with salacious, battle hardened ones that made a shiver crawl up his spine. She lifted her hand to her face, forming a fist, then flicked the edge of her nose with her thumb with a "hmph" then darted off towards her closest teammate to help finish their battle, leaving the Anbu to deal with the corpse at their feet.

End Flashback

Shisui's fingers grasped the edge of the counter so tightly, his knuckles lost their color. He leaned closer towards the sink, his hips pressing against the lower cabinets. "Fuck..." He closed his eyes tightly, replaying the entirety of Sakura's battle over and over again. Just remembering her body twisting in such impossible ways with that mischievous, teasing grin in place made his whole body burn. He rather liked that battle-drunk look on her.

And her hands, with their long feminine fingers wrapped in worn leather, coaxed the fire that began to rage under his skin to burnish brighter, stronger. He imagined those hands against his chest, clawing down his back. His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of both his trousers and his underwear, releasing an ache that bounced against his navel mockingly. His hand immediately came to his pulsing member, a hiss leaving his lips the moment his fingers encircled his length.

Hell, if this was the result of her wrath, he could watch Sakura fight all day if it were possible. She had looked so confident and powerful and downright sexy in that moment. It painted a completely different image of the polite, reserved girl that ran her hands—those same hands whose knuckles were now stained with blood—along his body so professionally. She was always so serious, so proper, so boring. Up until now. The woman that he had seen in that forest was an entirely different one than the one in the hospital. He decided then he wanted that woman.

His hand traveled up the length of his manhood, slowly, loosely. He twisted his wrist languidly, breathing heavily through his nose, picturing his hands as smaller, more slender ones. Pleasure trembled against Shisui's spine in the form of a shiver as he summoned that ethereal glow of her eyes, vibrant from battle to his memory. Idly, his thumb ran along the tip of his shaft, smearing the sheen of his arousal against himself, so his hand moved fluidly along his flesh. His tongue slipped past his lips, wetting them as he exhaled harshly through his nose. "Oh fuck," He breathed again, but raggedly. The back of his head touched his spine, cheeks twitching and pink. His grip tightened. His pumps quickened. Shisui's free hand left the countertop to comb through his unruly locks, tugging them lightly with its descent, trailing down his neck—down his chest, over his pebbled nipple—his stomach fluttered.

He wanted those war-drunk eyes looking up at him. He wanted to run his own hands over that lithe torso, over those pert breasts until his palm covered the scar that would mar her right shoulder. He wanted to dig his nails into that shoulder for purchase and snap his hips against hers.

Shisui's fingers stilled at the base of his cock where they tightened just a little more. With his thumb and index fingers encircling his girth, Shisui stroked the sensitive skin that stretched just beneath with his middle finger. He caressed the line along the seam of his balls which in turn made him lurch into his hand. His free hand cupped them then, massaging them while he returned to stroking himself, faster then slower, then faster again until the roaring flames of his frenzied arousal nearly made him sway.

His sharp, little pants echoed around the bathroom.

He recalled the image of her near naked body for what had to have been the hundredth time. First with her sports bra and little black shorts and those tantalizing boots laced to her knees, sullied with training and skin flushed with sweat; then with nothing to hide her skin. He imagined that body under his, writhing against the sheets, the wall, the ground. Then he envisioned those pretty eyes of hers, fiery olive with bloodlust but still so fucking innocent, gazing up at him from her knees.

The desire to spar with her ebbed at the back of his mind once again. He suddenly wanted to fight her himself, wanted to see her movements up close—see if she could handle him.

He remembered her scent—aroused because of her own hands.  He knew what she had been up to when he showed up that night.  At first, he wasn't too sure.  That scent that was entirely hers, womanly, piquant, was so washed out when he finally noticed it that he could have brushed it off as his imagination, and he did.  But the more Shisui thought about it, remembered it, the more confident he was that pretty little Jonin Haruno was touching herself.

Abruptly, Shisui's breath escaped him all at once, hitching and transitioning into a strangled moan while his body quivered. His hips bucked tiredly once more, twice, his hand stroking relentlessly until his fist stilled at the head of his cock; he let out one last "fuck" as milky strands splattered against his mask and dribbled over his knuckles.

Chapter Text

Sakura couldn't remember the last time she actually spent the night out. Most of her days off were spent at home doing chores or training of some sort, while the nights were spent with friends and a few bottles of wine at home. And very rarely did her day off fall on a weekend. She usually had a stray Tuesday or Thursday off, which unfortunately, didn't align with most of her friends' schedules, so Sakura knew she had to capitalize on this rare opportunity lest she wanted face the wrath of an offended Ino.

Speaking of, the blonde was actually staring at herself in the mirror, posing as she gathered her hair into her hands like some sort of model in a photo shoot, much to Sakura's amusement. Then again, her best friend very much looked the part; she wore a skin-tight romper in which the top was haltered with a deep neckline that plunged below her navel and revealed all of her cleavage, and paired with ridiculously long boots that left just a sliver of skin revealed near the top of her thighs. She had seen the rather modern outfit a few times, mostly when Ino was feeling particularly interested in herself and even on a few missions, not that Sakura could blame her. Ino knew what she looked good in

"So you're sure you're not working tomorrow?" Ino questioned, her tone a wary one.

"Yes, Pig, I'm sure," Sakura retorted whilst rolling her eyes. "I told Aki-san not to call me unless it's a level four emergency. We'll be fine."

"What about the guy you and Ibiki are working on? The Sharingan Thief?"

"Ibiki has him in isolation for the next," Sakura paused to glance at her clock on the nightstand. "One hundred or so hours. So they won't need me down in T&I for a little while."

Ino's face twisted into an expression of distaste at the statement, or rather, the image that came with it and nonchalance it was spoken with. "Alright, if you say so," She huffed, twirling a stray bit of hair around her fingers. "I just don't want you to blame me if you're hungover on a shift."

Shaking her head, Sakura combed her fingers through her tresses and allowed them to fall over her shoulder, marveling at the waves that bounced with the movement. She always loved her hair, but now that it had developed into it's true, matured color, it was her pride and joy. While her father's hair had lightened from burgundy to a pale pink with age, her hair had darkened into more of a rose pink with a charcoal undertone that she loved to flaunt. The shift in color made her feel more mature, and she felt as if people took her more seriously than they did when it was as vibrant as it once was. That, and it paired well with most of her outfits whenever she did have the time and energy to dress up.

Once Sakura was satisfied with her look, she faced Ino, hands gesturing towards her outfit. It wasn't quite as risque as Ino's, but made Sakura feel every bit as comfortable as she did sexy. She wore a form-fitting black long sleeved top with a high, oriental collar and cutouts on the shoulders and across her chest, revealing a tasteful amount of cleavage. Her pants hugged her legs, making them appear longer than they were, her knee-high boots adding to the illusion, and a pale pink obi-styled belt was fastened around her waist to accentuate the incurve of her torso. "How do I look?" She asked.

Ino glanced at her through her reflection, then quickly swiveled around to get a better look with a sly smile painted across her face. "And who are you trying to impress tonight, Forehead?" She teased, her hand coming up to bring some of Sakura's short locks towards the front. They may have been a little over dressed for some casual drinking, what with the dark lipstick and the dramatic eyeliner, but sometimes, Sakura needed the reminder that she wasn't just a kunoichi, but a woman. And sometimes, men needed to be reminded of that, too.

Sakura swatted her friends away with a laugh, tucking her wallet into the pocket on the inside of her obi. "Who are you trying to impress, Ino?" She shot back, wiggling her eyebrows for good measure

The Yamanaka heiress waved a hand, a far away look taking over her expression for the briefest of moments before her sly grin returned. "Please. When you look as good as I do, who isn't impressed?" She scoffed. She linked her arm with Sakura's, reaching for the nearly empty bottle of sake that sat on the kitchen counter and drank half of what was left. Sakura downed the rest, cheeks already pink from their pre-gaming, and with one last check over their figures, the two girls left the apartment with a mischievous giggle.

Kamen

"Ah fuck."

Shisui snorted as he approached the dartboard, retrieving the darts that were embedded around the cork surface. He had struck the twenty twice as well as the eighteen, meaning he was close to closing out both numbers. He extended the darts to Genma, who took the projectiles and ambled towards the marker on the floor with a languid swagger. He struck the twenty-five twice, followed by the triple-fifteen.

"Show off," Shisui mumbled, watching as his squadmate tugged the darts from the board. He wasn't sure why he even bothered playing with the light-haired man; even though this was meant for fun and not for training, Genma had some sort of advantage, seeing as how he handled senbon more than he did kunai.

After their earlier training session had finished, Genma suggested they met with a few other shinobi and share a few drinks at Ippuku. Shisui was adamant about going, claiming it had been a while since they last had the chance to relax in a group, but Itachi decided against the outing despite the clear look of longing on his face. While Itachi wasn't particularly fond of drinking and really only did so sparingly during dinner, he did on occasion divulge in the activity if Shisui persuaded him well enough. Apparently he had matters with Fugaku-ojisan and the council to attend to, reminding Shisui of why he was never jealous of the younger man's position. But Itachi had promised he would try to join them later in the night if he could. Shisui clicked his tongue; there wasn't much time left for Itachi to enjoy being young.

Tipping his glass to his lips, Shisui surreptitiously regarded the crowd, taking in the many bodies that littered the establishment. It was a pretty decent sized izakaya with warm wood tones and dim lighting, and both high bar-tops and booths with shoji partitions at the back. Shinobi tended to frequent this bar, meaning he recognized a fair amount of the patrons that stood around, chatting away with their drinks in hand. Not to say that civilians were prohibited; it's just that many of them weren't comfortable being surrounded by so many ninja who easily spoke about their missions and weapons like they would about the weather. After a stint of searching, Shisui's sight hovered over an easily recognizable head of raven hair. Sasuke had ditched his side the moment they got their drinks, seeking out his friends on the farther end of the building and seemed to have a comfortable smirk that could have passed for a smile upon his face. Shisui grinned at the rare sight. The twenty-four year old had the likening of an old man but without the wisdom, his personality obviously inherited from his stern father, so it was refreshing to see him at ease for once.

The feeling of an arm brushing against his caught his attention, forcing Shisui to watch as a woman began walking away from him. She had pin-straight black hair pulled into a high ponytail, the lighting causing her silky hair to glow a shade of violet, and miles of light skin purposely revealed to him through her hardly-there outfit. She wasn't a kunoichi, that was for sure. She looked too clean, too unblemished; her waist was too small and she walked as if she didn't care about her surroundings. But that didn't really bother him. He didn't usually pay much attention to civilian girls as they had a tendency to be too clingy and a little boring in bed, but that didn't mean he ignored them completely. The woman glanced at him over her shoulder with a coy smile and a wink, daring him to join her and prompting the corners of his lips to tug into a pleased smirk. Genma snickered next to him jabbing at him with his elbow as if in encouragement while Hayate quietly turned away. Honestly, he contemplated following her and would have if not for Kotetsu's hand blindly clawing at the back of his shirt, tugging on it and his necklace until they choked him.

He prepared to scold his friend, who seemed completely focused on something else, and made to swat his hand away when an orchestra of whistles and cheers broke out, prompting him and several others to curiously face the direction that he and Genma stared off to. A familiar pair of ladies seemed to be the center of their attention, having paused at the friendly catcalls and suggestive whistles; they smiled and posed playfully while their friends made a scene.

"God damn," He heard Genma breathe, and Shisui had to agree.

God damn was right.

Yamanaka Ino was always considered one of the most stunning women in Konoha, and Shisui would've had to have been blind to disagree. She had a particular allure that very few women could emulate, with a sway in her hips that demanded attention and a tilt to her chin that let others know she was one with power. Those sparkling, icy blue eyes of hers could tear apart a person's insecurities as well as praise them all in one glance. And she looked stunning in her all black outfit. However, as easy on the eyes as she may have been, Shisui found that his stare lingered over her rose-haired best friend longer than he intended. Her outfit covered her almost completely, unlike that of the gorgeous blonde's beside her, but worked to garner just as much attention. Her petal-like locks just barely brushed her exposed shoulders in messy waves, framing her face stylishly, and her heavy makeup drew attention to her pouty lips and her doe-like eyes. And Kami those boots. Dressed like that, she didn't look the part of the Hokage's prim and proper little apprentice.

Shisui released his lower lip from his teeth. She seemed to be surprising him with each meeting without meaning to.

The new arrivals joined their group of friends, quickly becoming engrossed in a series of conversations that overlapped each other. He watched on as Sakura joined her teammates, plucking the drink from his younger cousin's hand and claiming it as her own with a goading smirk while Naruto snickered something that made Sasuke lash out at the back of his head. Shisui snorted then shook his head, returning to his one beverage, clandestinely observing the young medic as she bounced along from one conversation to the next while laughing at jokes and downing her shots like water.

Idly, his fingers toyed with the collar of his black shirt, nails skimming the thin cord of his pendant as he recalled the last time he had seen the curious young woman.

Flashback

It was with a delighted sigh that Shisui allowed himself to relax, easing further into the uncomfortable bar stool and encasing the frosted glass with his fingers. The weather had taken quite the turn, going from a comfortable warmth to a dangerous heat that added ten pounds to his gear, so for precautionary measures, he and his team took up residence at a tavern with ties to Konoha. It was an averagely built space, not too fancy but not seedy, and had smart staff who kept their ears open and mouths closed. Owned by a retired Konoha-nin, they worked as the eyes and ears of the Leaf despite being a fair distance away, in exchange for stability, so it was a popular place for Konoha ninja to rest up while on assignments in the area.

So here he sat, surveying the crowd with halfhearted interest as the afternoon sun fell to darkness. He had volunteered for first watch, allowing his squad to settle in for the next few hours while he played the part of a weary traveler downstairs. While it wasn't completely necessary, seeing as how they were in a relatively safe place, it didn't mean they weren't completely out of danger. Plus, this gave him the ability to take note of any interesting characters that may have passed in and out of the bar downstairs.

His attention eventually hovered over a group of men that took over a booth near the back of the room. There were four of them, their weapons still holstered and openly displayed on the table. On their own, the men were hardly worth a double-take, but the signature white, single-strapped flak jackets they wore demanded otherwise. As one of the Hokage's closest guards, Shisui would have heard the very first whisper of a rumor regarding visiting envoys, especially ones from Kumogakure; so the fact that such a large amount of them were hanging out in a tavern in Leaf territory without his knowing put him on edge. If it had been just one he could have overlooked it. Four, he couldn't.

Shisui swept his eyes across the room once more in feigned disinterest before swiveling back around to face the bar. Using the mirror behind the liquor bottles, he observed the suspicious group as they mumbled to one another over sake. From his seat, he couldn't hear what they were saying or read their lips, much to his annoyance. He prepared to move on to a different seat with a better view of them when an excited squeal stilled him. His gaze shot up to the mirror again where he found a young man with tanned skin and short hair so blond it was nearly white, entering the building with a woman slung over his shoulder. Slowly, Shisui's fingers began inching towards his left sleeve where a short bladed knife was hidden.

"We've got a live one over here!" The man jeered as he walked towards the table with the Kumo-nin. Shisui cursed in his head. Five now.

"Rikou-kun," The woman whined, wiggling atop his shoulder. "Put me down!"

The one addressed as Rikou dropped the girl into the lap of one of them, giving Shisui a better look at her. She was petite in stature, with hair cropped to her shoulders and colored a darker blonde than the man she had entered with. She was dressed in a burgundy kimono that was altered to have a wide neckline that revealed the slopes of her delicate shoulders and all of her neck, and slits up the sides of the skirt that went so high up her hips, it would've revealed all of her legs (and more) if not for the skintight black pants she wore under. But the thighs of her pants had a deep cut out that revealed milky skin, which is where the man who's lap she occupied let his fingers draw idle circles. There was something about the shape of her face that was vaguely familiar.

Shisui abandoned reaching for his weapon but continued warily observing the group from the mirror. They shared a few more words, laughing wholeheartedly between them, and then the young woman called out for someone across the room whilst waving a hand in hither. A second woman, tall with brown hair wrapped in a braid and dressed a short, blue and gold kimono, joined the group with a kittenish sway to her hips. She outstretched a hand, the movement dainty and elegant, to the youngest shinobi in the group, who excitedly used it to yank her roughly into his lap. She shrieked at the abrupt action but did little more than swat at the man's chest with a pout.

The melodic laugh of the first woman was a familiar one that Shisui couldn't quite pinpoint the owner to at first. It took him a few moments to realize just who giggled like that, and when he did, Shisui nearly groaned to himself in a mixture of annoyance and relief.

Haruno Sakura. That perky little blonde was the Hokage's apprentice.

How amusing it was, that he found her here of all places.

Figuring she was on a mission involving the Kumo-nin soothed nearly all the anxiety that had tumbled against his shoulders, although that did little to ease his frustration. The last time he had seen the rose haired medic, she had demolished a whole section of the forest and aided in the apprehension of a failed Sharingan thief. And he had been so fucking turned on that he pleasured himself to that memory almost immediately after. Kami he fucked another woman to that memory. Even now, nearly a week later, the blood beneath his navel began to boil to dangerous levels at the recollection.

Wetting his lips, Shisui watched with mild interest as she leaned her right shoulder outward, her head turned just slightly over that shoulder as she made some sort of comment to the man behind her. Her eyes were lined with feline-like liner and red eyeshadow, natural, and took on an intense glint that he recognized. She called out again, "Sake! For all of my new friends!" And then a third woman appeared, balancing a tray of glasses in her hand as she plopped down beside another man and handed him one of the cups. Her insanely long platinum hair was the only clue he needed to know who she was.

The natural blonde said something that made all the men laugh heartily, while Haruno huffed and seemed to beg the man to her right for something, turning her body in the other man's lap and setting her hand upon his chest. Shisui's flint eyes focused on the flirtatious gesture, or more specifically, on her hand as her manicured fingers unclasped the buckle to his flak jacket with a kittenish "oops!". Something in his chest sparked like a match, its hardly-there flames just barely a sensation as it swam through a coil in his stomach.

Shisui knew he should've looked away and left her to her mission. By watching her so intently and riling himself up, he could've jeopardized her assignment by compromising her position, but he found himself unable to look away.

The nature of her mission was as clear as day to him, even if the details were not, and understanding that prodded at his curiosity. He would've never thought Haruno Sakura was qualified for seduction. Seduction assignments were dangerous for everyone involved, not just the intended target, and especially for women. He had heard of more than a few kunoichi leaving for such assignments, only to never return, or to come back home missing fingers and tongues and bearing invisible scars that would never heal. He even heard of men returning afraid of other men standing behind them, and of men who were so tortured, they could never have kids again. And while seduction missions were generally reserved for Anbu-leveled ninja, it wasn't uncommon for those in her rank to partake in them every now and then. Hell, he had been on more than a few such assignments himself at her rank, and he had even been the target of a few unsuccessful kunoichi. Of course, he'd indulge in their touches out of purely selfish entertainment, but those poor girls always left with a failure on their record and an ache between their thighs.

However, not just anyone with a pretty face and tight body could take these kinds of missions on. There were very specific requirements for "red scroll" assignments. Things like personality type and social abilities were considered. Friendlier shinobi attracted others more naturally than a shyer one who had to act interested. Not only that but the social status, and the mental state and sexual confidence of the assignee were major factors; because while not every red scroll demanded one to sleep with a target or targets, it was always a possibility, and not everyone could honestly handle the implications of that. And that was all just the start of a long list of criteria that needed to be met.

From what he knew, based off their few encounters and the gossip that surrounded her, Haruno didn't seem the type to enjoy a roll around in bed with random targets for fun. She had a no-nonsense sort of attitude, a professionalism that teetered on the edge of a bad-temper, and a very black and white perception of the world—or so he gathered. She had a reaction to everything, whether it be big or small, whether it be crying in the bushes or leveling a whole forest. She was an emotional mess that hid behind a mask of professionalism. That in itself should have disqualified her from these kinds of tasks.

But watching her now, as she shot back a glass of mid-shelf sake with that heated stare of hers, Shisui couldn't help but wonder just how true his conclusion of her was. The liquored-up Kumo-nin threw her around like a doll, lifting her onto their shoulders and twirling her as if they'd never seen a woman before, caressing the bare skin of her shoulders as she danced to the jukebox with the Yamanaka girl and the civilian, and she allowed it all with that charming little laugh of hers. He watched as she straddled the one she called Rikou's lap, as she ground her hips into his and raked her fingers down his chest; she was so close, whispering into the man's ear and curling her body against his like a cat in heat. It all seemed so natural for her, as if she had done it thousands of times, the complete opposite to the fidgeting near-naked girl from a few weeks ago, making him wonder if she often acted that way with men back home or if this side of her wasn't meant for anyone else's eyes.

End Flashback

The pendant clasped between Shisui's fingers fell back against his chest, cold despite the surrounding heat. Seeing the Hokage's pristine little pupil's performance that night stirred up a few more questions and theories he had about her, as his opinion of her had changed. Somewhat. Because there was something almost criminal in knowing someone like Sakura was qualified for seduction, in knowing that she knew what she was doing. And now that they were back home, and neither of them were currently bound by any duties, what better time to search for answers than now?

Shisui's feet moved before he realized it, pulling him away from his friends so he could approach the younger group across the room. He came to stand beside his baby cousin, one of his arms draping loosely around Sasuke's shoulders despite the shorter man's annoyed grunt. "Well, if it isn't Konoha's best," The elder Uchiha greeted, enthusiastically and with a simper. The group returned his greeting with smiles, clinking their glasses with his own and taking a collective sip. "It's not often we to see the entire Rookie class hanging around. What's the occasion?"

"We don't need a special occasion to have a good time," Naruto cheered, raising his glass once again. The pinkness of his cheeks told Shisui he had been around for a while, confirmed by way he leant almost completely against an increasingly irritated Sasuke, and therefore him. The blond redirected his attention towards the Akimichi heir before Shisui could say anything else to him.

Genma, Hayate and Kotetsu approached the group as well, waving their own drinks in the air in greeting. "Ha, can't argue with you there," Genma laughed, cheersing his glass with the lazy Nara and then with Hayate's.

"What about you guys?" Shisui glanced over at Sakura who was happily drinking whatever it was Sasuke had previously been holding, much to the younger man's chagrin. She had a little smile on her face, soft, relaxed. "I haven't seen you guys here in a long time."

Her comment made Shisui wonder if perhaps she had always been prominent in the background and he had never noticed, only just now being hyper aware. But it also told him that she had noticed him there before, when he hadn't noticed her. Genma settled his hand at the neckline of his shirt tugging it down slightly with the weight of his hand. "You know how it is. Hokage-sama is running us ragged, ne Shisui?" She turned those vivid jade eyes on him, her laugh just as sweet as it was during her mission.

"Oh no, I get it," She agreed, waving her hand once. "She used to send me on all kinds of ridiculous assignments. The worse her mood, the worse the task. I don't get how Shizune-senpai does it. The poor woman is always exhausted even before she starts a shift." Then there was a tilt to her head and a slyness to her little grin as she looked directly at Genma. "But I suppose that's not all Tsunade-shishou's fault now, is it?" Shisui shot a look at his teammate, brow quirked and mouth parted slightly with the beginnings of a laugh on his tongue. He pointed at the blushing man with the hand that held his beer, silently asking him if the implication Sakura made was true. The pink twinge to the senbon user's nose acted as his answer. She stood on her toes now, searching the crowd before quirking a brow at Kotetsu with a hint of a frown marring her features. "No Izumo-kun tonight?"

Kotetsu snickered behind his glass. "He's stuck on guard duty."

"I don't think I've ever seen you without him."

"Now you know that's not true, Sakura. You've seen me alone more than a few times."

"Hmm, I guess it's just been that long then, that I must've forgot."

Amusement flittered within Shisui at the teasing comment, especially at the underlying tone the rosette used. Her nose had crinkled when she spoke, head turned slightly to the side and her right shoulder tilted forward, nearly mimicking a gesture she had made on that seduction mission. So she was in a good mood—a flirty mood. Pouncing on the opportunity, Shisui casually addressed Sakura again, hand nonchalantly swirling his drink when Sasuke detangled himself and disappeared. "So what brings you out tonight, Sakura-san? I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised to see you outside of the hospital for once. I almost didn't recognize you without your coat."

Sakura sipped at her commandeered drink, eyes wandering down and towards the right as she did so. Her free hand folded a lock of hair behind her ear. She really liked to fidget around him apparently. "I don't get to go out often," She admitted. "I'm always so busy. I'd actually probably still be at home if not for Ino-pig needing her daily dose of attention."

He caught the mirthful undertone to her statement, ebbing his fascination further. So she did have a sense of humor. He leant against the wall directly across from her. "Well it's nice to see you outside of work. You look good." He openly drug his gaze appreciatively up and down her body, mentally noting the blush that colored the bridge of her nose.

"Thanks," She beamed, the edge of her teeth just barely sinking into her lower lip coyly. "I don't normally get so dressed up, but it's nice to every once in a while. Sometimes I forget that I'm not just a kunoichi."

That I'm a woman.

The words hung heavily in the air, accentuated by the playful tilt of her head. Was she flirting with him? So openly? Well that was quite an unexpected development. He leaned forward with the beginnings of a smirk stretching against his lips, meaning to continue the conversation but was interrupted before he could even open his mouth. The weapons mistress from the Hyuuga's team dragged Sakura off, giddy with laughter as she roped the rosette into a round of shots with the girls, leaving him to scrape up his disappointment by initiating a chat with Sasuke and Hayate.

Kamen

"So anyway," Ino began again, taking a long, deliberate sip of her drink. "It actually wasn't that bad."

Taking in the uncharacteristically stiff posture of her best friend, Sakura quirked a brow. "Sai?" She stressed her teammate's name out, as if disbelieving what she had just heard come out of Ino's mouth.
Ino rolled her pretty blue eyes with a little more exasperation than necessary, before settling them knowingly on the rosette.

"Oh come on, Forehead. He's socially inept, not asexual." Nonchalantly, she swirled her glass with an expert wrist.

Sakura snorted, her nose scrunching in response while Tenten snickered behind her own glass. "They go hand-in-hand," She retorted, pausing to throw back the contents of her glass then refilled it. "And it's Sai, Ino."

"And Sai's in Anbu," Ino reminded, smirking roguishly at the way Sakura's brows began to knit. "He's very knowledgeable about the many intimate parts of the female body, and knows how to handle himself, if you know what I mean." At the mildly disturbed expression that Sakura made, complete with a slightly unhinged jaw and worried brows, Ino cackled along with Tenten while Hinata hid her face with a hand. She playfully slapped at Sakura's shoulder. "Oh don't look at me like that! I didn't judge you when you hooked up with Genma."

This time, it was Sakura's turn to roll her eyes. "You slept with Genma too."

"And I have zero regrets."

At the same time that Ino dryly expressed her indifference towards the ordeal, Tenten sputtered, nearly choking on her sake. "Wait, both of you guys hooked up with Genma?"

"Not like, at the same time," Ino quickly dismissed, whilst femininely, innocently, sipping her drink. Then she sniggered competitively at the rose haired medic who rolled her eyes once again. "I was with him first."

A blush bloomed across the apples of the weapons mistress's cheeks at that, and curiosity urged her to search the crowd for the Jonin in question. Finding him pitching darts with some other Jonin across the room, Tenten leant closer to the other ladies at the table, eyes alight with mischief and interest flickering between the two of them. "Are the rumors true?" She asked, almost in a whisper.

"Which one? That he really knows how to use his mouth or that he's—"

The girls jumped when Hinata, who was so discomfited over their conversation, accidentally jostled the table during her attempt at shifting her legs. Sakura immediately set her hands down on the bartop to prevent it from knocking over, biting back a grin while the Hyuuga heiress squawked, "I-Ino!"

"Sorry Hinata," The rosette chuckled, wiping away a drop that had spilled from Tenten's drink with a napkin. She sent a teasing but pointed look to her childhood friend, who shrugged and pursed her lips in return. "You know how Ino gets when it comes to her sex life. We all have to know."

Ino harrumphed at that and crossed her arm indignantly, dropping back against her bar stool. "Forgive me for having an interesting sex life. Someone here has to have one." Then an impish smile stretched ominously across her face, making the girls shift in their seats. They knew that anytime Ino had that particular look, no one was safe from her interrogations, not even Hinata. The girls waited with baited breath to see who Ibiki's newest pupil would be focusing on, letting out a collective sigh of relief when she finally rounded back to Sakura. "Speaking of interesting sex lives, what's going on with you and Kotetsu, Sakura?"

Jade eyes dropped to the drink encircled by Sakura's hands. Part of her had hoped Ino wouldn't have noticed the little heated glances the Chunin had gifted her from across the bar, but she should have known better. Ino knew everything, and saw everything. She considered playing it off with an ignorant, "what are you talking about?" but quickly abandoned the thought. Then she thought about redirecting the T&I prospect's attention to the tension developing between Tenten and Neji, but she decided against that as well out of the kindness of her heart. Feigning disinterest, Sakura propped her elbow against the table and rested her chin upon her palm. "Nothing."

"Nothing-nothing, or Genma-nothing," Ino asked, her smirk morphing into a shit-eating grin. "Because that nothing ain't nothing. He's been checking you out since we got here!"

Tenten waved a hand to wave off Ino's hungry leer. "Oh ease off Ino. You know Sakura only goes for men in uniform," The weapons mistress teased, her tongue drawing across her teeth. "She likes them polished."

"I mean, t-technically Kotetsu-san is a man in uniform..." Hinata quietly piped in, squeaking guiltily when Sakura whipped around to throw the woman a disbelieving, betrayed look.

"Please, we all know Sakura and Kiba have been all over each other ever since he got promoted," Ino teased, winking.  Four pairs of eyes wandered towards the dog handler who was in the midst of a chat with Shikamaru at the bar.  Ino whistled, "I bet he looks good in armor." Sakura threw back another shot with the hope that it would somehow save her from her growing embarrassment, but mumbled her affirmation under her breath.

Ino and Tenten bellowed with laughter at their friend's expression, doubling over and grasping their bellies while Hinata smiled behind her hand. Tenten set a placating hand on the back of Sakura's shoulders, squeezing gently. "Don't be shy! You know we're just teasing, Sakura."

A smile managed to spread across Sakura's lips despite her fluster. "Yeah, yeah. So what's going on with you and Neji, huh Ten?"

Tenten's back tensed obviously, her teasing expression melted completely and now replaced with mortification. "Wha—I don't—I mean—Nothing!"

The girls, even Hinata, shared another knowing smile. "Nothing-nothing, or Genma-nothing?"

Kamen

Shisui tried to reign in his curiosity as the night went on, forcing himself to pay attention to everything and everyone else but the pinkette that seemed to be appearing more and more frequently in his life, but it was growing increasingly difficult with each passing hour. Without meaning (or wanting) to, he had watched her pound back shots and chat with seemingly everyone in the room, sliding her hand down Kotetsu's arm. Curling strands of hair around her finger as she laughed at whatever Sasuke just said to her. Playfully shoving the heir to the Inuzuka clan.

The last time he had seen her, she was settled against the wall near their table, leaning against it as the tall ninken user leaned over her. Kiba at first seemed to be at an experimental distance, but gradually began closing that gap the longer the two talked until it seemed as if his body relied on the support of hers.

He felt Genma brush up against his knee, but didn't say anything about it. "Haruno's looking good tonight," The older man commented, an appraising lilt to his voice. Shisui hummed in agreement, but again decided against speaking. Genma grunted. "She's such a tease, playing all hard to get like that."

At that, Shisui's ears perked up. The senbon-user leant tiredly against the bar, the weapon in his mouth bobbing from one side to the other, the sound of it clinking against his teeth reaching through the drawl of the room. "Yamanaka?"

A short bark of a laugh rumbled in Genma's throat. "Yamanaka likes to act bad, but that girl's all sugar in bed.  You wouldn't have ever thought that, just looking at them."

Shisui snorted softly, "Haruno? A tease?" He shook his head, hiding his smirk behind his drink.

"Haruno knows what she's doing," Genma continued, inclining his chin towards her but leaning closer to him. Something impish glistered in his eye when he smirked, and together, the look piqued Shisui's interest almost hungrily. Genma hummed, the sound closer to a grunt than anything, "Trust me. She likes playing all sweet and innocent."

"And I suppose you know that, firsthand?"

Whether it was meant as a question or a statement, Shisui didn't care to elaborate.

A knowing chuckle spurt around the senbon in Genma's mouth, but that was all Shisui needed to hear to figure out his answer. They didn't say anything else; Genma remained beside him a while longer, observing the pink haired Jonin between sips of his drink and comments with Raido while Shisui studied the scene unfolding before him with renewed intrigue. Assuming Haruno Sakura was a flirt was one thing. Hearing it from another person's mouth and witnessing it was another.

He memorized the way Kiba braced his left arm just above her shoulder, how the back of his hand brushed against the inside of her elbow. Sakura hardly seemed displeased by the Inuzuka heir's proximity; in fact, her eyes had taken on a puckish slant while her lower lip was taken by her teeth. There was a darkness in her eyes, a recognizable one that he had seen on many different women's faces. He turned away when Sakura lifted a hand to Kiba's chest and pushed away from the wall with that deceptively innocent smile on her face. No one else seemed to notice that the two of them had disappeared together.

Chapter Text

It was no secret that Morino Ibiki, also known as the Scar Faced Bobcat, was one of, if not the most ruthless and menacing men on the planet. There were a thousand words that could accurately describe Konoha's head interrogator, all off which being synonyms for "scary" and "sadistic" along with a few other choice names, and they were all true.

However, the word that came to Sakura's mind whenever she thought of the six-foot-three boulder of a man was "creative".

Creative, because he knew over a thousand ways to extract information from a man, and still found the time to discover new ways of doing so. He liked to experiment, combine methods, customize each individual interrogation session to fit each person. Anyone can beat a man to death, but that could only get one so far. Sure, a few good jabs to the face, a punch to the chest and a few broken fingers were tried and true methods for the average person, but a few too many of those and not even the best medic in the world could save them. Physical beatings were messy, unnecessarily draining and time consuming. And then there were psychological ninjutsu utilized by clans like the Yamanaka and Uchiha, but those carried a risk of their own.

Ibiki was creative because he liked to strap his targets into physically stressful positions and leave them alone for hours at a time, soaking wet, in a cell cold enough to freeze their clothes. He was creative because he would lace his victim's fingers in thumbscrews, then force a tube down their throat to fill their stomach with blended meats and soups even when they threw it back up. He would have the arches of the intended's feet beat raw with bamboo rods, while his assistant drowned them via waterboarding. Then Sakura or another medic would come in and heal them just the way Ibiki wanted, so they could do it all over again. Sometimes, he'd resume his session before the medic even finished healing. Other times, he'd wait a few days, "rewarding the guest" as he would call it, with good food and pleasantries. It all depended on the person he was torturing, really.

A shiver clawed at the length of Sakura's spinal column at the recollection of a few particularly nasty sessions she had seen, but she managed to suppress it before it reached the back of her neck and refocused her attention on the captive on the other side of the glass. The would-be Sharingan thief was bound in a way that he had no choice but to kneel on jagged pebbles, his arms drawn back and his head craned so far back that his skull touched his spine. His jumper was soaked, face hidden beneath a towel that clung to him like a second skin with just his eyes left exposed. They were screwed shut, whether in fear or exhaustion or pain she wasn't sure. Meanwhile, Ibiki sat atop the steel table at the center of the room, arms folded across his chest, looking as if he were just waiting on a friend rather than in the middle of an interrogation.

"Still not ready to talk, are you?" Ibiki hummed, eyeing the shinobi almost appraisingly. A mahogany eye cracked open, tiredly, then narrowed into a defiant glare. Ibiki tsk'ed and raised a single finger from it's place atop his bicep; his assistant dunked a pail into the large barrel hiding in front of Ibiki's hulking form, then moved to stand over the prisoner. Sakura worried at the tip of her thumb as she watched the assistant pour the water over the towel plastered to the stubborn shinobi's face. They had been at this for three hours now. Soon, she'd have to end this.

"Haruno-san."

She reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the inquisition to acknowledge the man standing beside her. The wolfish shinobi stood just out of arm's reach, dark cloak secured at the neck and hood drawn over his head despite being indoors, his tanto secured across his back, over his cloak. Almost as soon as she noticed him, Sakura returned to her observations in the interrogation room. "Okami-san," She greeted, quietly, politely.

The Anbu officer regarded her with a slight nod, facing her fully, indicating he was there for a very particular reason. "Hokage-sama would like an update on the situation regarding inmate A0768," He informed, gesturing towards the captive behind the glass with a subtle inclination of his head.

Her lips set in a hard line, brows drawing together. "Now?" The officer responded with a nod, drawing a grumbled curse from her mouth, and then she rapped her knuckles against the mirror in code before dropping her hands to her sides. Ibiki excused himself from the room, instructing the young assistant to continue with his ministrations, before slipping out into the hallway with the two of them. He didn't bother acknowledging the Anbu with much more than a fleeting glance, just stared expectantly at the rose haired medic. "Lady Tsunade is requesting me. I'll return as soon as I finish with her."

"I'll try to refrain from overdoing it until you return then."

Her smile was more of a gesture of acknowledgment than a pleasantry, and melted from her face the moment she turned to follow Wolf back down the hall. She brought her fingers to her temples to rub circles against them, mumbling her annoyances under her breath. "I'm going to pick up a few things from my office," Sakura announced, pushing her hair back behind her shoulder. "There's some books and scrolls I need to give to her and since I'm visiting her now, I might as well grab them, if you don't mind."

If the soldier was annoyed at all, he didn't let on. Instead, he remained silent with his head tilted back ever so slightly, as if pondering her request. Finally, he clicked his tongue. "Allow me to teleport you then," He intoned, his hand already reaching for her shoulder. She hummed her acquiesce and before she could finish blinking, her stomach undulated and then the darkness of the tight hallway receded with the glow of the early-afternoon sun as they appeared in her office. The shades were partially drawn, just as she had left them, so the natural lighting that perforated though them casted the room in warm gold tones bright enough to ignore the light switch across the room. Smiling in thanks, Sakura rounded the edge of her desk then bent down to procure a stack of books from beneath it. She placed the short tower on top of her desk, then began rummaging through the drawers.

His movements drew her eyes to him, tearing away only when she realized he merely came to rest against her desk. She shifted at the proximity, a hardly there warmth blooming beneath her navel, unsure whether or not it was appropriate to scold him for being so lax. Ultimately, she decided against it.  She fished out a scroll then unraveled it to skim it's contents before replacing it in the drawer and searching again. She repeated the process a handful of times, leaving the ones she needed on top of the desk and straining to ignore the exceedingly subtle shift in the atmosphere. Every so often, her stare would wander away from her task to take in the man sitting beside her, stirred on by a strange feeling that nipped at the back of her neck.

She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her so nervous.

Then again, all Anbu made her nervous. This one just more so than others. Being Tsunade's apprentice, she's run into her fair share of Anbu over the years, but always in passing and never with one enough to recognize them with just a glance. Anbu were cycled often, squads alternating in duty and sometimes members, their masks usually only gracing her memory once or twice a year each, while newer recruits were a little more of a commodity in their first three probationary months. Yet, in just a little over a moth she had seen this particular officer four times, including now. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed he had taken a liking to her.

Metaphorically shaking her head, Sakura tried to brush off her sentiment. She blamed the thick suspense that wedged between them on that God forsaken meeting earlier that month—on Naruto and Sasuke and their drunken antics. She wasn't a puritan by any means and had it been any other person at her doorstep, she wouldn't have batted an eyelash at her state of undress, but he wasn't any other person. He was a figure of authority, and he had appeared at her door when she was vulnerable, in the clutches of heat. At the time, she had been reading another chapter out of the fourth book in Jiraiya's series, so invested in the drama that was stirring between the fictional characters that her body reacted without her meaning to. She distinctly remembered laying in her bed, sheets bundled up along the edge of the mattress and her fingers caressing her flushed skin with lusty excitement when he arrived, scented with the forest and musk and blood, and that was all far more tantalizing than it should have been. So of course she would associate his presence with that memory—it all made sense.

But there was something else between them. Something dark and heavy and exciting. Something that may have been attraction.

There was another thing about this Anbu in particular that set her on edge. He wasn't rigid like all the others tried to be.  On the surface he remained just as straight-laced, just as stoic, but there was a drop of personality in him that he didn't seem too concerned with concealing.  Like now, he leant against her desk, casually.  And when he had met her before her first session with their current inmate, he looked so indifferent, it contrasted with the stark white uniform.  It almost felt like he was challenging her authority—and strangely, she sort of enjoyed that.

Upon finding the scrolls she needed and setting them on the desk with the books, Sakura quickly ambled over to the bookshelf along the wall, hoping the distance between her and the Anbu would settle the mood. She ran her slim fingers over the spine of each book, pausing only to remove whatever titles she was looking for. When she made to return to her desk, Okami was watching her from the slope of his mask's nose. The cords in his neck shifted, indicating movement in his jaw—a grin, a smirk, or maybe he drew his tongue against his lips. She struggled to avoid touching him as she gathered the books beside him.

"You can carry these," She decided, handing the stack to her escort and pleased that her timbre remained even, then went to fetch a thin folder from a different drawer.

Shifting the books in hand, the Anbu let out a grunt. "I find it more than a little interesting that you have the strength to shatter the trunk of a fifty foot redwood, but need me to carry your books." The harshness of his tone had fallen away with his inquiry, the notes of his voice a little more playful, a little more human.

Sakura looked back at the corps officer with a tilted head and a quirked lip despite the beating in her chest. "These books haven't done anything to piss me off," She lightly returned, more than a little amused by his casualness.

"Ah, I've seen what happens when you're angry," He husked, slowly, lowly. Oddly, Sakura just knew he was grinning even if she couldn't see it.

Sakura wet her lips, clamping down on a shiver his carefully heady tone nearly evoked. She brushed her fingers against her cheek to disguise the action of her looking away. "And yet you always seem to be around when I am."

"I'm not one to mind a good show."

She attempted to ignore the implication of his statement, tried to tell herself that her perverse imagination was running wild again, because there certainly wasn't a second meaning beneath his words. But she would be lying if she said part of her wasn't pleased with the idea of such attention. Flicking her hair over her shoulder and unsure of how to respond, Sakura scooped the scrolls into her arms. Okami didn't offer any other commentary, which actually disappointed her somewhat; he merely set his hand on her shoulder, and when Sakura blinked, she was standing in front of the door to her Shishou's office.

Kamen

It wasn't often that all the members of Team Seven got to spend time together.

Normally, at least two members (usually Kakashi and Yamato) were off on a mission. Sakura worked at the hospital while Sasuke took on training shifts at the Police Headquarters, and Naruto shadowed Iruka and Obito at the academy, and Sai did whatever it was that he did. They all tried to make time for one another to the best of the capabilities, but to have them all together in one place was rare. So when Sakura stepped out of the Torture and Interrogations Unit to find Naruto and Sasuke waiting outside, in the middle of yet another argument with Sai standing between them, smiling in that way of his, she couldn't help but stiffen, then smile.

She stiffened because she knew that the first thing they would be off to do was spar. Then she smiled because that was exactly what she needed.

Her session at Torture and Interrogations had run on longer than it should have with little results, so she should have been excited at the thought of going home. But she knew that all the time she would've spent in bed would've consisted of her rolling around in her warm bed sheets, twisting and grunting until she realized she couldn't get comfortable enough to relax. She had too many thoughts swirling about her head demanding attention while her body was wound a little too tightly, a little too tense, and there were only two ways she could think of to wind down. And unfortunately Kiba was out of the village and Kotetsu was on duty, while her squad was there.

They were quick to meander through the streets, chatting and discussing and catching up, and arrived at their usual training ground where Kakashi and Yamato were waiting. Sai and Naruto stripped off their jackets while Sasuke and Sakura caught up over stretches, and Kakashi and Yamato warmed up their joints. It was all so familiar, so comfortable—so them.

"Don't tell me you're scared of losing to a bunch of kids," Naruto was teasing Kakashi as he drew his right arm across his chest.

A chuckle rumbled in the silver haired man's chest. He didn't even look away from the passage of his book as he sighed, "Naruto, you should know by now that taunting your old sensei never works.  It didn't work back then, and it won't work now."

Naruto threw his hands in the air defensively, but those impossibly blue eyes of his were alight with impish intent. "Alright, Kakashi-sensei, then I guess you won't mind a little wager, then!"

Yamato shook his head, laughing softly. "Naruto-kun, I think you've been spending too much time with Hokage-sama.  You're picking up her bad habits."

"I suppose you would inherit Hokage-sama's poor luck as well, so perhaps a wager isn't the best idea, Dickless."

Huffing in annoyance that everyone seemed to be ganging up on him, Naruto crossed his arms and cocked his hip.  "Oh yeah?  We'll see about that!"  He pointed a finger challengingly at their former sensei. "If one of us knocks you out, you buy dinner tonight, for all of us."

"And when I win?"

"I won't eat ramen for a whole year."

Sasuke, who experimentally twirled a kunai around in his right hand, scoffed at the declaration, or perhaps the sound he made was more of a snort. "Impossible."

Giggling, Sakura nudged the Uchiha, then widened her stance with her fists raised. "Maybe that's the incentive Naruto needs to take this seriously?"

There wasn't any hesitation whatsoever when the last person finally took up their battle stance. There was no coordinated "go!" or a curious "ready?", not even a shifty glance between them. They merely dropped their conversation, and then twisted roots exploded from the ground while black ink splattered against Sasuke's katana. Sakura back flipped as hands broke through the earth where her feet had been, and then shuriken grazed impishly against her limbs. The moment her feet touched down, Sakura threw her whole body to the left to dodge the flurry of shuriken Sasuke had pitched at her, just to adjust herself midair so she landed flat on her back when razor sharp wire tugged them back to their user. She rolled back onto her knees, just barely managing to brace her hands in front of her to block the upwards kick Sasuke had aimed at her chin, then brought her left arm towards the side to block his second one. With her right hand, Sakura awkwardly gripped his leg and summoned all of her might to hurl the Uchiha across the field.

Sasuke landed on his feet, a hand digging into the ground for purchase, then was on her before she could blink. He feigned striking with his elbow, actually thrusting his knee up into her stomach and following up with an axe kick that made her nearly drop to her knees again, but Sakura forced herself upright and retaliated by ramming the heel of her palm into Sasuke's nose, then strung two strikes with her elbow against his chest. He caught the second one, tugging her closer until her chest slammed against his, causing her to look up at him. A curse left Sakura's lips as she felt a nearly impalpable trickle of chakra weaving in and out of her vertebrae. She quickly disrupted her chakra flow, dispelling Sasuke's illusion to find that he had pinned her beneath him.

Their gazes clashed for a second time, conveying a silent taunt between the two—Sasuke haughty that he had even captured her in a Genjutsu and Sakura smug for breaking it—when Sakura propped her boots on Sasuke's thighs.  She dug them into his legs, his hips, hoping to make him uncomfortable enough to shift back or push him away, but he responded by pushing his hand into her cheek, forcing her head to the side.

"Oh yeah, you're totally paying for dinner tonight, dattebayo!  Ramen on Kakashi, guys!"

Sakura paused at Naruto's shout, tilting her head to glance in the direction of the blond's voice and prepared to respond, but was beaten by Sasuke, who looked over his shoulder to growl, "Shut up, Dobe!"

Exploiting Naruto's distraction, Sakura used a flower sweep to switch their positions so she was now on top. However she didn't get a chance to celebrate because the moment she straddled Sasuke's body, talons dug angrily into her shoulder, ripping her away from him.

"Oh shit!"

Her body jerked as a grandiose black and white hawk plucked her from the ground and took her into the sky. She thrashed in the beast's grasp, her heart dropping lower and lower into her stomach the higher it took her, until she finally managed to jab a kunai into it's leg. Ink splattered against her skin as she severed the bird's leg from the rest of it's body, but none of that mattered as much as the fact that she was plummeting back to the ground at an alarming rate. For a moment, fear coaxed her heart right back up into her throat and all Sakura could really do was curse and shout at Sai for his God damned stupidity, when arms entangled her body and she jerked again. There was another strange pull that nauseated her stomach and swirled her vision, and then she found herself staggering over her own feet.

"You guys started without me!"

She looked up sharply, already swiping her kunai at the older Uchiha and extremely unamused by the mirth in his voice. "You're late!" Sakura scolded, ducking his high kick and delivering a dispelling blow to an ink summon.

"I was helping Chihiro-obaachan with her groceries," Obito managed to say with a shrug, undisturbed by how close she came to slashing his cheek with a kunai. He plucked it from her grip and used it to deflect the stars Sasuke launched at him. Somehow Naruto's annoyed shout—"Liar!"—stretched across the training field. Obito's laugh was wholehearted and lively, even as he dropped to his chest to avoid the two giant Fuuma shuriken aimed at the back of neck and his knees. Still prone, he used his chakra to propel himself just high enough off the ground to simultaneously avoid the roots that shot out at him as well as the third shuriken that appeared from the second's shadow. He planted his hands firmly against the ground and swept his feet out from under him, performing an impressive windmill that expertly caught a third shuriken by its inner grip around his ankle. In one fluid movement, Obito swiveled and stood upright with that same weapon now in hand; he pitched it towards Kakashi with an enthusiastic growl.

Capitalizing on him having his back to her, Sakura launched towards him just to phase through his body. Obito wrestled her non-dominant hand behind her back, tugging it back unforgivingly, then hooked his leg around her ankle in an attempt at knocking her off her feet. They struggled for a moment, rocking back and forth, both trying to knock the other down until Sakura slammed her head back against his jaw. Obito stumbled back whilst shoving Sakura forward just as a dragon made of flames sliced the air between them, it's roaring flames lapping at Sakura's back mockingly.

Huffing in frustration, Sakura jerked her shoulders back to dodge the fist suddenly thrown at her face. Emerald eyes met cerulean. She couldn't help the smile that crawled across her face when Naruto grinned back at her, even when he followed up with another haymaker that would surely bruise when she countered it with her own. She narrowly evaded his roundhouse kick and his alternating jabs when Sakura found herself skidding across the ground thanks to a wayward strike by a clone. Rising to her feet, Sakura rolled her neck and raised her fists defensively, giving Naruto an acknowledging—no, approving—nod before launching herself at him to execute a pair of alternating jabs. He sidestepped the first then blocked the second, leaving his guard open to the uppercut to the gut; he latched onto the shoulders of her top, his foot finding her ankle, then pushed her back. She regained her footing a moment too late, as the next thing she saw was a boot clad foot catching her just beneath the chin, and then she fell to her back, groaning in agony.

Sakura stayed down for a minute, clutching her jaw and trying to fight down the pain while Kakashi moved on from her dirty takedown to trade blows with Naruto. She could hear electrified chirping and creaking wood and animalistic snarls in the background, followed by a loud screech that made her scramble to cover her ears. Cracking an eye open, she watched, wonderstruck, as Sai's hawk puffed its chest out, wings drawn back, then swung its wings forward, launching dozens of giant feathers all across the battlefield.

"Holy shit Sai!" She heard Naruto shriek, the excitement in his voice overpowering whatever fear he may have had.

With a low curse, Sakura slammed her fist to the ground, making a slab of earth crop out; she pressed her back against it, listening to the whistling projectiles as they embedded themselves around her. As soon as the whistling ceased, Sakura darted out of her makeshift shield and dove into the fray that was Kakashi and Naruto. She executed a forward roundhouse, redirecting her hips to complete a reverse one that both men managed to jerk away from. The silver haired Jonin didn't give her a moment to rest, swinging his left fist and then his right, then thrusted his knee up into her gut while Naruto bounced on his feet behind her, searching for an opening. She managed to bat her sensei's knee away and shove him back a few steps, then rocked on her heels to snap kick Naruto in the chest.

With both of them doubled over, Sakura put distance between them to catch her breath, but did not drop her fists. She watched as her teammates rose to their feet. They shared a glance with one another, and then they rushed her. The rosette hardly had a moment to think, let alone parry because between Kakashi's quick combination of punches and kunai slashes, Naruto came at her with a series of flash kicks that she couldn't completely avoid. One such kick to the side made her recoil, giving Kakashi the opportunity to completely surpass her guard and tackle her to the ground. They rolled over one another, both trying to pin the other, but Sakura somehow managed to snake her right leg around the left side of his neck so her knee cradled the back of his neck, and used her strength to force him down on his back, sealing her position over him with a slug to the face that made him reel.

Shooting to her feet, Sakura searched for Naruto, only to find him engaged in a bout with Sasuke and Obito. She looked for Sai as well; he was crouched in the background, his shoulders shaking and chest heaving for rest. She made to approach him, but found herself skidding to a stop when knotted roots shot up in front of her. Glancing over her shoulder at Yamato, Sakura clicked her tongue. This was gonna be a long night.

Kamen

Sweat beaded down Sakura's neck and chest freely, disappearing into the soft grass beneath her. Naruto was sprawled out beside her, breathing just as heavily and tanned skin flushed with exhaustion, but still beaming. On the other side of her, Sasuke dropped down into a sitting position, gulping down water as if his life depended on it before pouring the rest of the bottle over his head.

"Good job team," Kakashi panted, softly, already rifling through his weapon's pouch for his favorite novel. "At this rate, you'll all be leading your own teams soon."

Beside him, Obito stood with his hands on his knees and his lips quirked despite his erratic breaths. "Yeah, you actually almost had me there for a minute, Naruto," He admitted, making the blonde huff tiredly with laughter and launch a fist into the air before letting his arm drop languidly over his face. The older Uchiha then tapped Sasuke's back appraisingly.

Sakura took the water bottle Sai passed to her with a grateful smile, sitting up so she could down half of it in one go then jabbed the bottle against Naruto's side until he took it. "You guys are just getting old," She teased, earning a snort in agreement from Sasuke.

"You wound me, Sakura," Kakashi dryly retorted, daintily resting his hand over his chest in mock agony.

While she laughed, Naruto began to shake Sai a little too enthusiastically. "Did you guys see Sai today?" He asked, clearly still reeling over the technique the ex-Root shinobi had used. "That new jutsu was insane!"

Sasuke hummed, agreeing in the only way he could while Obito and Yamato patted their hands against the aforementioned nin's shoulders and Kakashi rubbed at his jaw pensively. "Yes, that technique was quite impressive. We'll need to figure out a strategy and formation for it."

"Sasuke managed to catch me in a pretty good Genjutsu," Sakura piped in, sending a proud smile at the previously mentioned teammate.

The ravenette's features softened slightly at the praise, both corners of his lips uplifting so minutely that it could have been brushed off as imaginary because as soon as it appeared, Sasuke had stood up and turned his head away from them all. "Yeah, and you broke out of it right away," He acknowledged, begrudgingly though not unkindly.

"I almost didn't even notice it," She admitted, scratching sheepishly at the back of her head. "You were able to take me down because of it."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it," Obito told Sasuke, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He pulled the younger Uchiha close so his forehead pressed against Sasuke's temple, then ruffled his hair affectionately, earning a growl. "Sakura has a natural affinity for Genjutsu. It'll take something a little stronger than a full-blooded Uchiha Sharingan to catch her. Trust me, I've tried."

After a few more minutes of prattling and lionizing, Kakashi clapped his hands around his little green book, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. "Alright everyone. Let's head out. A deal's a deal. My treat—but only one bowl per person.  And no appetizers.  Got it Naruto?"

A laugh escaped Sakura's lips at the half-excited-half-dead cheer Naruto gave as he rose to his feet with a hand from Sai. She tiredly waved a hand in dismissal, leaning back so her palms planted into the grass behind her. "You guys go on ahead. I'm just gonna train a little bit more."

At that, both Naruto and Sasuke grumbled her name (and Sai canted his head disapprovingly) but she ignored them.

"You didn't get enough of a workout in?" Obito's voice was incredulous and twinged with amusement. Then he shook his head, emitting a short bark of a laugh. "Man, you kids are ridiculous."

The wood user chuckled quietly into his hand with a wistful gleam in his eye. "Oh to be young again..."

"Hey, I've gotta make sure I can keep up with you guys," Sakura returned. She raised her hand in the air, patiently waiting for one of the men standing above her to take it; Naruto gripped her at the base of her wrist and tugged her to her feet, then moved that hand to settle it loosely around her damp waist. Dusting off the back of her skirt, Sakura added, "I haven't been able to train much these last few weeks with all those extra shifts at T&I. I can't slack off now. You guys are getting crazy fast." She grinned at Naruto as she spoke, her fingers pinching at his sweaty cheek while he made a disgruntled face.

"Alright, but don't over do it, Sakura-chan." A hand flattened over the top of the rosette's head, the fingers entangling with her pink locks affectionately before disheveling them; Sakura huffed and smacked away Kakashi's hand, her nose scrunched up in distaste.

"Yeah Hag," Sai piped in, his smile a little softer and little more natural than usual. "It would be unfortunate for you to wind up in the hospital again."

Sakura clicked her tongue at that. That was one time. She broke out of Naruto's slack embrace, turning on her heel and waving her hand again. "Yeah, yeah. Go have a bowl of ramen and a shot for me," She laughed. "None of you need any healing, right?"

"You're sure you don't want to join us?" Yamato asked, cocking his head to side, clearly unconvinced and torn by her conviction. "Kakashi-senpai is actually paying this time."

"Taichou, I'll be fine. I'm all sweaty and gross anyway, so I'd rather not go anywhere except home," She said, gesturing to herself with her hands in a sweeping motion. "How about this: next time we all meet up like this, my treat, yeah?" That seemed to placate the group, because not too long after declaring her promise, the group collected their belongings and trudged through the training grounds, leaving her to her lonesome. She remained in place for a minute, eyes closed and head tilted up towards the sky, rolling her shoulders slightly. Once her breathing had regulated, Sakura raised her hands into a defensive position.

She lifted her left leg, bending it at the knee, but raised her knee as high as she could; her hands floated out on either side of her for balance. Once she found her center, Sakura slowly extended her knee until the flat of her foot was nearly level with her head. She held the position for a count, then lowered her foot, shifting her hips so she could suspend her leg a bit off the ground. After a minute, she executed a flurry of kicks at the air, twirling on her feet, thrusting her elbow at an imaginary being, jabbing at nothing.

Their sparring session had been one hell of a thing. They usually were, but today's was a little more than usual thanks to Obito. He was infuriating in battle, what with his skill set and personality being an even combination of Kakashi, Naruto and Sasuke; but he also had his own unique ability to phase in and out of reality making it nearly impossible to land a hit on him. Partnered with him, he was great. Paired against him, she hated him. Like Yamato and Sai, the older Uchiha drifted in and out of training sessions and survival exercises whenever he had the free time to do so, but even less frequently than the two now that he had responsibilities at the Academy. A shame, really, because he always kept things interesting and was a pleasant disruption to the otherwise serious group of men in her circle—especially when Sasuke graced them with his presence. He strove to impress his relative to the point it was almost comical, and Obito was always willing to give him the praise he needed. Plus, Obito's friendship with Kakashi and his one-sided rivalry with Yamato were just as entertaining, if not endearing.

He may not have been an official member of the team, but Obito fit right in.

She loved the dynamic they had built up over the years, the trust, the friendship.  She loved that they could joke around between punches but could still take each other seriously on the field.  And she especially enjoyed the way they'd compliment each other and highlight each other's feats after every spar.  It made Team Seven feel more than just a team, but a family.  An abnormally big, annoying, awesome family.

"Haruno-san."

Sakura sharply glanced back over her shoulder, surprised to have been caught unawares and even more stunned to find an Anbu operative standing at the edge of the treeline, just watching her. The Anbu wore a white cloak, their hood drawn to cast shadows. A tanto was fastened outside of their cloak via a holster across their chest, positioned to the right, trapping the fabric against their back. Her back stiffened noticeably.

A captain.

"Taichou?" She immediately dropped her stance, turned to face him fully and bow. Her mind reeled as she ran through a handful of scenarios that would explain the masked man's presence, praying that it wasn't anything too serious. She curled her fingers into her palm, resisting the urge to wipe them against her thighs, hating how clammy they suddenly were.  Then she cursed herself for once again, being addressed by a figure of authority while in just her dirty sports bra and usual skirt and shorts.

The officer didn't comment on her stiff greeting, apparently too intent on surveying the damage to the training field. He stalked towards her, slowly, with the intent of a predator, his gloved hands raised at his sides to caress the outcropping earth as he approached. "Looks like you had quite the spar," He mused, stopping several yards away and dropping his hands to his sides. "I'd hate to see the other person."

She shifted her weight anxiously, minutely aware of the upturning of her lips. "It was just another Team Seven survival exercise, sir."

Absently, she realized she had involuntarily gone rigid, straightening her back to the point that it was painful. If he noticed, which Sakura was certain he did, he didn't let on. Instead, the Anbu captain let out an amused hum and nodded to himself, the moonlight on his mask shifting as he tenuously scanned the area. When he tilted his head back, just enough of his mask was illuminated that she caught a glimpse of fangs. "I see you didn't hold back."

"I never do."

The captain didn't make a comment in response to her knife-sharp quip, instead letting one of his hands reach for the buckle for his harness around his chest. Sakura followed the movement with a quirked brow and hummingbird heart, every bit as unsure as she was curious. His fingers deftly worked the cinch of his harness until the leather slipped away from one another; he pulled his right arm from the harness, then tossed it haphazardly to the side. Something about the sound of his weapon clamoring to the ground made Sakura's chest tighten, but she quickly abandoned the thought. Next, the cloak slipped from his shoulders, exposing the whole of his uniform. His white chest plate contrasted greatly with the black shirt he wore beneath and was faintly stained with hardly there blood splatter. His shirt was sleeveless, revealing a sliver of muscled skin before disappearing behind mile-long gloves and white bracers, and had a high collar that hid his neck. His hair was dark, inky like shadows and wild in a way. But it was the form of his mask that really made her pause.

A wolf.

"Shall we?"

Chapter Text

The heat bore down in sticky, claustrophobic waves on all sides of her, the air almost crackling with electricity. The silence that befell them was almost awkward, so tense it was painful, but was saved only by the wildlife that began to hum around them.

Sakura watched as Okami-taichou folded his cloak once over his arm then set it on the ground beside his tanto before returning to his position. He slowly tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck to work it's muscles and crack his bones, then rolled his shoulders before lifting his fists into a defensive position. Suddenly, his feline-like smirk was more like a snarl and the silvery moonlight made the eyes of his mask appear to glow with mirth. He gestured to the open space between them. "Shall we?"

Sakura cocked her head to the right, making no attempt to mirror his stance. "You...want to spar...?"

His shoulders jumped into a shrug. Casual. Indifferent. Practiced. "Unless you have something more important to do," He replied, then added as an afterthought, "Or if you're unable to."

She didn't miss the taunt woven into his tone. In fact, the reserved, controlled voice employed by the members of corps seemed to have melted away from him completely, replaced by a undeniably playful one that made something dark coil within her belly. The grin painted across his mask seemed to shift again, widening into something a little more dangerous, the eyes a little more slanted.

Sakura clicked her tongue, orphaning the apprehension that nipped along her spine and accepting a glimmer of flattery that dotted her flesh. Her analytical mind whirred as she considered her options; she was still recovering from one of her team's infamous battle royales after all, so she wasn't too sure if accepting his challenge was worth it. There wouldn't be much of a fight, even if she were fully rested—because he was a fucking captain.

When she voiced her thoughts, the Anbu shrugged again. "Humor me."

It was a request with just a drop of command, and some hideous part of her felt exhilarated about it. Still, Sakura hesitated in mirroring his form. "I can only wonder why you'd want to spar with me."

"I've always been one to appreciate the abilities of others."

For him to "appreciate her abilities" he had to have been watching her, and she didn't just mean tonight. The thought of him watching her made all the skin from her ears to her shoulders burn as she flustered, although she wasn't quite as disturbed as she should've been. In a way, drawing the attention of ninja as elite as Anbu was both terrifying and gratifying, so she would be lying if she said she wasn't flattered by the attention, if not partially suspicious. The process in which one was gifted the title of Anbu was a secretive one, with most rumors saying that shinobi were selected through a long observation period before being approached by an operative. But surely that wasn't what was happening.

After a stint of deliberation, Sakura bent her knees, widening her stance but raising her fists just below her waist, indicating that she was open to the idea but wasn't quite ready to begin. A sound akin to a chuckle reached out to her while the masked shinobi's hand disappeared into his weapon's pouch. He removed one kunai, it's black steel glinting mockingly in the dim lighting. Sakura watched with nearly childlike fascination as he turned the kunai in his hand, dipping his wrist towards him, and then revealing two more between his fingers. A taunt.

"I would've never thought I'd catch the eye of Anbu," She admitted, watching as he deftly twirled his hand once, fingers folding into his palm in succession; two kunai disappeared in a blink, leaving just the one that was now gripped tightly in his hand, point down.

"Just this Anbu."

There was an inflection in his voice, a less than innocent allusion, deliberate and writhing with mischief. Sakura drew her gaze away while simultaneously shoving aside the implication of Okami's admission (as well as the exhilarating jolt in her chest) with a frown. Perhaps it was the stint of confidence she's had all week, or maybe it was the remaining glow from her heart-stopping brawl with her team, or maybe just insomnia playing tricks, but something within her blossomed with excitement at the thought of capturing Okami's attention.

But she liked it.

Kamen

In the back of his mind, Shisui berated himself for approaching her. He hadn't meant to. He wasn't supposed to. He had just intended to watch.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

But then again, there were a lot of things he wasn't supposed to do.

He had been on his way to meet with his squad for a shift at border patrol when he happened to notice the ruckus of her team. Initially, he planned to move on without so much as a glance but found his feet carrying him without his permission, stopping only once he was securely hidden in the shadows of a sycamore. He could spare twenty minutes, after all.

When Shisui settled into his hiding place, his one-eyed relative had just materialized in the heart of the battle, plucking a free-falling Haruno from the air and teleporting her to safety. He had known that Obito was a close acquaintance of his senpai considering they had been teammates back in the day, but had had no idea the older Uchiha spent his down time with the unusually large Jonin team. And as he watched all seven teammates—he had never seen such a large squad before—with mild fascination as they duked it out almost like enemies.

But that had been hours ago.

When his twenty minutes were up, Haruno and Yamato-taichou were in the heat of their fight, his cousins had ended their battle with Uzumaki, who moved on to engage the artist, and turned on one another, while his senpai was taking a breather. He went on to meet his team for their rounds around the village perimeter, and when the late-afternoon sun disappeared beneath the treeline and the moon stole the spotlight, he made his way back the way he came to find them still fighting.

And of course, the one thing his eyes searched for was Jonin Haruno.

Her chest was heaving, exposed as she had stripped herself of her top sometime since he'd seen her last. Those petal pink locks of hers were tousled and clung to her neck and cheeks with sweat, while mud and dirt and blood were splattered against her abdomen. But more importantly, her eyes had taken on that intoxicated glint that he found so undeniably attractive.

It really shouldn't have been so fucking hot.

He shouldn't have returned to hiding amongst the trees. He shouldn't have watched her uproot trees and shatter boulders.

He shouldn't have touched himself.

But he did.

Because watching her dance in between strikes, executing flips like a performer at a sideshow, tearing the world apart, let loose a dangerous warmth to spread within him and ignited something dark and primal. Even earlier, when it was just the two of them in her office, when she was flirting with him with those doe-like eyes and that air of conditioned innocence, blushing and adverting his eyes, he couldn't withhold his grin because he could feel his affect on her. But now that her shift was over, there was none of that. Now, there was a little rebel in her, a little too much fuel and a little bit of gorgeous chaos all wrapped up in a little gentleness.

Haruno Sakura played sweet and innocent really well. But he liked the forest fire that she was, more.

So when he watched her pluck shuriken from the air and throw them back, his palm glided over the front of his trousers. When she took the artist to the ground and straddled his waist, fist cocked back to deliver another blow, Shisui felt his arousal bounce against his navel. And when Haruno slammed her tiny, unforgiving fist into the ground, against a tree, a boulder, Shisui's breath hitched and his cock twitched beneath his sheathing fingers until his feet finally dangled off the edge of his orgasm.

He meant to leave after that. He intended on heading home or maybe to the bar. He wasn't supposed to approach her.

But again, there were many, many things he wasn't supposed to do.

Kamen

Shisui waited patiently, observing the expressions she made as she stared back at him, her analytical mind whirring as she seemed to be considering her options. His blood hummed in his veins in tune to the nervous pulsing of her chakra. She was overthinking things. He considered dropping his stance and collecting his belongings as his excitement began to dither, but thought better of it.

Finally, tentatively, Sakura raised her fists the remaining bit of the way up, nodding once to wordlessly convey her readiness.

As soon as she did, Shisui was in front of her. He swiped at her with his kunai, spinning on his heel when she leant away from it; on the return, he directed his blade into an upward strike aimed towards her temple, which she raised a hand to bat away. He released his kunai, deftly catching it in his left hand where he thrusted it into her waist. Sakura smacked his forearm away, ducking as he swung that same arm towards her neck and immediately stepping back to evade his right hand haymaker. Sakura aimed to deck his jaw, clicking her tongue in annoyance when he easily pushed it aside with the back of his hand, and then did the same with her next punch; it left her body open, and Shisui capitalized on that, crouching a little lower and driving his blade hand towards her gut. When she stepped just out of reach, Shisui turned his wrist so the point of his kunai faced her again, and aimed at her temple once again. Her fingers enclosed around his forearm, preventing his attack from landing, but Shisui merely dropped the knife again and caught it in his right hand. The moment she released his arm in preparation of blocking his next attack, Shisui flicked his wrist and the kunai changed hands once again, allowing him to slash at her sideways.

Sakura cursed inwardly as she barely managed to avoid the attack with a kick push to his stomach; she had never seen someone juggle a kunai so skillfully in the midst of battle before! And he was so fast, so fluid, controlling his blade as if it were an extension of his arm. Amazing.

She executed a backhand spring to put distance between them, her foot somehow able to clip his hand when he swiped his knife at her, but his grip on the weapon held tight. And it was only then, when she landed on her feet, that she noticed the inimitable caress of chakra weaving in and out of the fissures of her spine. She willed her chakra to warp, breaking free of the genjutsu just in time to evade the plunging of his kunai at her neck.

Feigning a forward kick with her right leg, Sakura forced Shisui to take a step back with a hand instinctively twitching to block. She faked a strike with her right hand next, quickly thrusting her left fist out at his diaphragm. He blocked her hit, again stepping backwards to avoid the combination of uppercuts and jabs that she threw at him, aiming his own slow jab at her face just for her to lean to the left to steer clear of it. He ducked a high, sweeping kick which was followed up by a wide, sideways haymaker. His hand shot up, the guard on his forearm taking the brunt of the hit, then rotated his wrist so his fingers could wrap around hers and tug it out of the way.

Her left hand darted forward but Shisui caught that as well, orphaning his kunai but leaving her open for a strong push kick that made her double over. Swiftly, Shisui followed his attack up with his left fist. Sakura caught it with her much smaller hand, shoving it to her right where she deftly flung him behind her. He flipped in the air, pitching a volley of kunai as he did and then landed on his feet a few meters away. He watched with caliginous orbs alight with excitement as she performed a few artful backhand springs back to avoid the glinting twists of metal, landing with the grace of a cat a ways away.

He tsk'ed. He wanted more than this.

Shisui's stomach lifted somewhat as he flickered across the field to close the distance between them. He moved so quickly, already on the offense, that he nearly missed the raw shock that overtook Sakura's expression when he appeared in front of her. The Uchiha made to kick her feet out from under her, but Sakura casually lifted her forward foot above his kick, planting it back down immediately while simultaneously throwing her left knuckles forward. He lazily batted her fist to the side, stepping to the right as her right elbow swung at him; he caught it, using her momentum to whirl her around and trap her back against his chest, his ankle hooking over hers for added measure. She tensed against him for just a second, then relaxed her body so she slumped from his grip, dropping down into an impressive front split. Leaning back so she could access the backs of his legs, she aimed a punch at the back of his knee, but he flickered out of existence, appearing behind her.

He's so fast...!

The medic rolled her body awkwardly when he made to kick her while she was down, skillfully maneuvering to her feet with a kick-up, hardly having time to avoid the flurry of jabs the Anbu officer directed at her. Inwardly, Sakura thanked Tsunade for drilling an emphasis in evasion into her, because he was fast. She studied his pattern as she wove between his movements, throwing in her own combinations once she had gotten a better feel for the flow of her challenger's fighting style. He was very balanced, very confident but precise in how far he let his limbs travel before reigning them back in, and he had the advantage of having seen her fight before. He wouldn't give her room to breathe now.

Shisui fired a hook kick that she ducked under. He moved with the momentum of his kick, twisting on his heel to get around her whilst sneakily removing a kunai from Sakura's pouch. He swung it at her, watching as she jerked back, twirled it in his hand so he could swing it right back up, then twirled it a second time while in the up position so he could stab her with it. She swatted at his hands with her own, then slammed her head forward so it clashed against the forehead of his mask. The move stunned him long enough for her to rush him. She planted her hands on his shoulders so she could climb him like a God damn tree until she now hooked both of her knees over his shoulders. She tightened her thighs around his head, throwing her weight backwards until he fell forward, then tucking her body as he was thrown beneath her, rolling with him until she was now sitting above him.

She straddled his chest, his shoulders firmly planted to the soft soil by her knees and his head nestled between her thighs, a fist hovering just above his mask in preparation for another strike while her other pressed against his mask. Beneath her, Shisui remained still, drinking in every detail of her form as she bestrode him. Her chest rose and fell heavily, sweat making her wild hair cling to her neck, her cheeks were flushed and lips parted as she caught her breath. The fist lingering just above his face remained there for a moment, silently insisting that he concede.

He fought off a groan—a growl—as their position registered in his mind.

When she had been pressed against him earlier in their spar, Shisui nearly shivered and had to fight off the desire to run his hands down the front of her body and force her against him. That brief contact had spilled oil onto the flames of his arousal, and now, that fire had spread into his chest and neck. He peered up at her, his heavy breath pooling mockingly into his mask, then a smirk stretched across his features. That look that he had seen on her face only twice before, the one that he had only managed a sparse glance at, stared straight back at him, made all her own with intoxication from battle.

Shisui shifted beneath her as he felt a familiar ache in his loins. His hands moved on their own accord, his gloved fingers caressing her calves, then the backs of her thighs. Above him, Sakura stiffened, a jolted breath escaping her lips, but she did not move away. His hands inched their way up her back, as high up as they could in his position. He traced the curvature of her waist with his left hand while the right lazily trailed up her spine.

"Careful Haruno," He warned. His voice was husky with heat, seething with restriction, coaxing a quiver in her shoulders against her will. "Don't get too comfortable."

She didn't realize her lids had fluttered shut until his words—more breath than sound—brushed against the back of her neck—or perhaps, those were lips. No, she realized, chakra. Another genjutsu. Again, she willed her chakra to dispel the illusion that lapped at her spine, breaking it just as a boot collided with her stomach and sent her tumbling back a few feet. Doubled over with her hands nursing her midsection, Sakura wheezed for breath, leaving her unable to dodge the deck Shisui delivered to her face.

"You broke out of that faster than I expected," Shisui admitted, the notes of his voice brimming with praise. "I didn't even get the chance to implant the illusion yet."

Rising to her feet, Sakura spat blood from her mouth. "Three of my teammates try to utilize illusions against me all the time," She chuckled, lifting a hand to her lips. Her thumb brushed aside the blood that colored her lips, drawing his focus to them, then she fell back into a defensive stance. The shift in her attitude made Shisui's smirk spread into a grin, while the pressure under his navel compounded further until liquid fire tricked through his veins. "It'll take more than a weak genjutsu like that to beat me."

With that, Sakura bolted across the clearing, vaulting over the outcropping earth that remained from her previous battle. She attacked him with the remnants of her energy and all of her frustration, which only mounted as he easily dodged everything she threw at him. Every jab and every punch she made, he reflected and countered with his own, as if he could read her movements before she even decided what she wanted to do and it pissed her off.

Shisui allowed the rosette to push him back, knowing full well that he would be backed against the outcropping rubble from her previous spar. His back pressed against a gnarled slab of earth for the briefest of moments before he ducked, narrowly avoiding her deceptively dainty fist as it slammed into the mixture of rock and dirt behind him; it exploded upon impact, showering him with debris despite the fair amount of distance he had put between them. She came at him again, chakra blooming against her knuckles and splintering the ground with each missed strike, until it began to burn her from exhaustion.

She was nearing her limit.

She executed a roundhouse, pivoting on her down foot when he leant out of range, so she could perform a reverse kick. Noticing, Shisui pressed his body as close to hers as possible, rendering the attack useless, then hooked his arm under the bend of her knee, trapping it against his side. He planted a foot behind her ankle then used his shoulder to knock her off balance, but held her leg tight against him so her shoulders were kept planted against the ground.

"I've never seen someone fight the way you do," Shisui admitted breathlessly.

Below him, Sakura smirked but did not respond otherwise. She curled her arm around Shisui's left ankle and dug her trapped foot into his waist, anchoring her in place as she swung her free leg across his chest, allowing her awkwardly roll out of his embrace. On her knees, she swept his feet out from under him, sending him crashing down. She climbed over him the moment his back hit the ground, digging her knees into his sides and batting his hands side before pinning them down over his head. She pried his fingers apart from the kunai in his right hand, wrestling it out of his grip with little struggle, then tossed it aside. When he bucked his hips under her, Sakura dropped all her weight back down against him, keeping him down with her chakra until he could do little more than squirm and even that was difficult.

"Captain."

Behind the mask, Shisui found his lower lip between his teeth, coal eyes narrowing slightly at the breathless way her tongue curled around his rank. He wondered if she realized how husky it came out. At first he thought not, but knowing what he knew about her now, he was certain she did.

Shisui bit back the innuendo perched on the tip of his tongue. Like this, with her pressed against him so snugly, he could feel her—all of her—with all of him. His first instinct was to grip her at the waist, to grind his hips against hers and fuck her so hard into the ground that she screamed his rank but he clamped down on the urge. So he waited, watching with eyes illuminated with unfiltered want as she eased up onto her hackles over him.

He wanted to see what she would do now—if she really was just playing sweet, or if she was all sugar.

She was fighting to catch her breath, running one of her hands through her sweat-drenched hair while the other was planted atop his chest, but she kept her eyes tethered to him. Her perusal of him was too intense for pure guard's sake.

Once he had regained his own breath, Shisui grunted. "Jonin Haruno."

He was completely aware of the dark inflection in his voice. She was too, judging by the way the line between her brows eased.

His grin stretched when he felt her shift above him, against him. He lifted a hand, slowly, carefully coaxing it past her flushed cheek and threading it into her hair, sinking his teeth into his lower lip when she boldly maintained eye contact with him. He fisted her petal pink locks tightly, tugging sharply at them, ripping a muffled grunt from her mouth; when she closed her eyes, Shisui maneuvered so he reversed their positions, trapping her beneath him. Her hands reacted immediately, shooting up to strike him, but Shisui pinned those on either side of her head before she got very far.

Greedily, because he knew he couldn't touch, Shisui committed every bit of her that he could to his memory. His gaze traveled from the forest fire in her eyes, down to the thin cut on her cheek, further down past her undulating pulse. He took in the fresh scar that marred her shoulder—the one that he imagined grasping when he finally fucked her—then followed the quick rise and fall of her breasts. His irises flickered back up to her face to find that she hadn't broken her gaze away. She was watching him just as ardently as he, her.

He released her wrists slowly, waiting to see if she would lash out given the chance. She didn't.

Sakura raised onto her elbows which shook from her fatigue, looking at him with such potent intent that Shisui had to bite back a growl. He straightened over her, dragging his gloved fingers against the incurve of her waist as he did, until he came across another scar staining her abdomen. It was a shade lighter than the rest of her skin, slightly raised, the length of a sword. Her lashes lowered when his thumb ran along its length. She shivered, her breath caught in her throat, transitioning into a sigh. In response, a low, guttural chuckle rumbled in Shisui's chest at her reactions, and then he moved away from her completely. He threw one last glance back at the pink haired Jonin as she rose to her feet, still regarding him with those salacious battle-drunk eyes.

He chuckled again. Just as he thought: she's all sugar.

"Don't start things you can't finish, Haruno."

Chapter Text

There were very few things that Sakura can honestly say she hated. Spicy food was one of them. So was being interrupted. Being underestimated, she could understand and usually would use that to her advantage, so she didn't care enough to get upset over it. Then there's back-sass, and people who made too much noise when they ate. But the thing that she hated the most, that she could snarl and honestly take offense to, was being rescued.

She had spent too many God damned years in the shadows of her teammates, and broke too many bones to be rescued. She collapsed from exhaustion too many times, bruised her skin black too many fucking times to be saved. She didn't need saving. Not anymore. Not ever. Even now, as she hung three feet off the ground, struggling to find her breath and seeing spots in her vision, even when blood coated her eyelashes, she didn't need anyone to come sweeping in to save her. Not Naruto. Not Kakashi or Obito. Not even Sasuke.

"No backup?" Her assaulter teased, his fingers tightening painfully around her windpipe.

Sakura continued to struggle in his grasp, her feet flailing in an attempt to kick at him, her nails carving bloody crescents into his hand—anything to find a way to put space between them. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Her mission's base objective had been one of surveillance; they were to study the movements of a couple that were on a crime spree so they could be apprehended by either Anbu or a better suited squad. Team Seven had followed the Bonnie and Clyde team through the northern part of Fire Country for the better portion of a week, trying to figure out their next movements and assessing their skill level, which led to her being here, in this exact moment, held tightly by the neck by this 6'5" beast of a man. She supposed it was partially her fault she was in this situation.

Not that she would ever admit that to anyone.

Naruto and Sasuke were back at the camp they had settled in out-skirting forest, waiting for her with dinner while Obito went off to guard the vicinity. She had gone into the village to scout the couple as they spent their "earnings" at a few shops in the marketplace, and was actually on her way back to their rendezvous point when she came across a face she swore she had seen before. At first, Sakura wasn't quite sure where she'd seen him, or what his name was. She had been struck by just how pale his skin was; in this darkness, he almost appeared to be blue. Part of her was concerned about whatever condition the man had, because as a medical professional she knew that, that color was not a healthy one, but the other part of her was struck with recognition like a bolt of lightning.

Hoshigaki Kisame

That was his name. He had one hell of a reputation in Kirigakure—an uncomfortably bloody reputation that stretched all the way across the lands and into places as far as Tea Country. He was Kiragakure's most valuable shinobi, one of the most ruthless and powerful members of Kiri's Seven Swordsmen, and he was here.

Memories of her first and last encounter with one of the swordsmen flooded her mind then, pulling long-suppressed scenes of Kirigakure's late Kijin. If the man looming before her was anything like Zabuza, then she had her work cut out for her. She should've went on her way. She should've went straight to her campsite and informed her teammates of the man's presence, because that was the fucking protocol, or maybe even pretended that she had never came across him in the first place, but of course, things never went the way we wanted them. He had noticed her anyway. He probably knew she was there long before she came anywhere near his location judging by the way he grinned at her, all teeth. All she knew, was that one moment, she was perched in a tall bishop pine, hidden amongst it's canopy of needles and pine cones. The next, she was flat on her back with the edge of a very strange looking sword hovering just above her nose.

She should have been more scared than she was. But they actually exchanged a few pleasantries, like normal people. Sort of.

"Well, it looks like the little bird fell out of it's nest. Did you break your wing?"

"What business do you have in the Land of Fire, Hosigaki-san?"

"Che. Straight to the point, aren't we, little bird?"

"You are in direct violation of our treaty, being here."

"You know, I rather liked it when you glared at me in silence."

"And I rather liked it when you weren't in Konoha territory."

"Cheeky brat."

And then they were fighting.

Sakura thrusted her foot out, the flat of it slamming into his knee; he nearly crumpled to the ground at that, his heavy sword planting into the ground being the only thing keeping him from falling completely. By the time Sakura managed to scramble to her feet, he too had straightened himself and was on her like a fly on syrup, swinging his massive sword rather quickly considering the combination of his size and his sword's size. While kenjutsu users generally had the upper hand against her, Sakura found that she managed to evade his attacks relatively easily, likely due to the weight of his weapon slowing him down. As she ducked beneath his wide blade and rolled out of the way, she watched his sword effortlessly splinter a tree behind her, silently thanking the Gods for that.

With a grace she never would have expected from a man like him, Kisame released his sword mid-strike, twisting on his heel, and grasped the long hilt with his opposite hand, following through with the swing in one blink. Realizing she was too close to successfully dodge, Sakura raised her arms to block the attack, only to let out a sharp cry and stumble back as she felt the skin of her forearms burn. Her glare immediately shot up to the weapon, whose bindings had unraveled to reveal the sharp spikes running down the blade, coated in her blood. Strangely enough, his sword almost seemed to hum with it's reveal, as if it were an animated being. A grin stretched across the large man's face at the stunned expression that marred her face, shoulder his weapon with a rough bark of a laugh.

"Samehada isn't like other swords," He began, a mocking lilt to his tone.

Sakura lowered her hands, fiery jade eyes set into a deadly glare as she summoned her chakra towards her injuries. She hoped she hadn't revealed her shock—her horror—when she realized her chakra didn't react as quickly, and that her reserves felt rather light compared to just moments ago. She waited for him to say something to follow up his comment, because he seemed like the type who would go on a spiel and it sounded like he had more to say, but he didn't. Instead, he tilted his head back, that infuriating smirk in place as if insisting she attack.

And so she did.

Which, in retrospect probably wasn't a very good idea. But again, she would never admit that.

With carefully planned out combinations, Sakura advanced on the man, buckling trees in her wake. A wild look came upon his expression as she fell the first tree, something akin to joy and dare she say, respect, flashing in those creepily beady eyes of his. She knew her team would've noticed her distress by now if they hadn't earlier, and were likely due to arrive in the next few minutes, meaning she was on her own until then. In the meanwhile, Sakura paid extra attention to the blade that swam uncomfortably close to her. She had taken two more hits by his sword, once experimentally to see if her theory about his sword's abilities was true, and the other resulting in rippling frustration as she learned that even dodging his attack put her close enough for his weapon to siphon off her chakra. She deduced she had to remain at least twelve inches from his blade at all times, which was nearly impossible considering her fighting style demanded she be as close as possible to her opponents. Not only that, but she had to be very vigilant of her chakra; she couldn't afford to waste it on any large ninjutsu or carving craters along the area, nor could she cause so much of a scene that it alerted anyone in the nearby village of their battle. Her targets would flee the moment they heard of shinobi duking it out in the area.

Never had she ever wished to have learned more ranged techniques than now. Or perhaps trained in kenjutsu with Sasuke or taken up a weapon in general. Obito surely wouldn't have minded teaching her how to use that chain whip of his, and that probably would've helped her out if she had bothered to learn. So dejectedly, Sakura relied on flinging shuriken and paper-tagged kunai in his direction.

He was just so surprisingly fast. His footwork was slow, but his swordsmanship was impeccable, his sword coming at her from all angles without much delay between swings. He moved with his sword, using one hand then both, then switching from his right to his left in one continuous movement, almost as if it were an extension of himself. Had this been any other scenario, or had he been within the bounds of their treaty, she would have actually admired his skills.

Switching an exploding tag for a flash-tag, Sakura allowed herself to smirk when it forced Kisame to bring his hand to his face to shield himself from the brightness of the bomb. She sprinted forward, taking full advantage of his temporary blindness, leaping onto and kicking off the trunk of a tree to gain leverage over his towering form, prepared to smash her fist into the side of his skull. She didn't expect his hand to shoot out at her. His fingers dug into her cheeks as he caught her, as he threw her into the ground and proceeded to drag her ten feet into the base of a tree. The back of her shirt tore apart, as did the skin of her back as he dragged her along, then all the breath left her lungs at once when he slammed her into the tree's trunk, showering them with a flurry of pine needles.

And that was how she found herself here, in this predicament.

He slammed her against the tree one more time for good measure, his ridiculously large hand spanning the whole of her neck and her jaw, keeping her in place while she writhed around on the rough bark. She continued to claw at his hands, his wrists, his arms, but he didn't budge. In her mind, she cursed her luck. For her to run into Kisame, let alone any ninja from Kirigakure all the way out here, the chances were slim to none. Then she cursed herself for getting herself caught in this situation in the first pace.

With her air supply now in fumes, Sakura knew she had to act fast if she wanted to survive another encounter against one of the Seven Swordsmen. She ceased her clawing at his skin, instead wrapping her trembling fingers around his wrist. Her voice cracked into garbled nonsense when she tried to speak, and he actually loosened his hold just enough to allow her to, that cocky smirk still in place."I'm sorry, little bird, I couldn't hear you," Kisame taunted, canting his head in mock curiosity. "Could you repeat that?"

This time, Sakura smirked at him, bloody as she was. "I said...I don't...n-need backup...to finish you...!"

His eyes grew wide with bloodlust at her statement, as did his leering grin. Scraping up all the strength she could, Sakura curled her legs upwards, managing to hook her legs around Kisame's thick neck; she tightened her grip so her knees dug into the sides of his jaw. He grunted, stepping away from the tree but then slamming her back into it hoping she'd drop her hold but she didn't. Instead, Sakura struggled to fish a kunai from her pouch and purposefully jabbed it into his forearm. Kisame released her with a curse, causing the rosette to tumble unceremoniously to the ground at his feet. Sakura shakily rolled onto her knees while grasping at her bruised neck, panting heavily in an attempt to catch her breath. Above her, Kisame ripped the blade from his arm and dropped it at Sakura's breathless form. He kicked her side, forcing her to fall onto her back and curl up in agony, then heaved his sword onto his shoulder once again.

"Come on, get up," He goaded. "It isn't very fun kicking you while you're down, little bird."

Wiping the blood from her face, Sakura forced herself to stand on her own, ignoring the nausea that spun her vision blurry. She couldn't rely on Naruto or Sasuke or even Obito right now. Curling her fingers into her palm, Sakura raised her fists into an offensive position, her front hand beckoning him tauntingly. Amused at her show of will, Kisame tipped his head back and laughed wholeheartedly.

"Oh, I like you. What was your name again? I'd like to remember it on the anniversary of your death."

He didn't give her the opportunity to respond, launching at her with his sword cocked back. Summoning all the chakra she could, to the point that her knuckles began to burn from the overload, Sakura thrusted her fist upon the ground, ready to level the whole God damned forest if she had to. She felt the ground undulate, the soil shifting in an attempt at staying together, and then the earth splintered right beneath her feet. She righted herself the moment she could, losing track of Kisame in the resulting storm, but that was okay.

If he could disappear in that cloud, it meant she could, too.

Kamen

For what felt like an eternity, Sakura waited. She kept her back pressed against one of the trees she had upturned, listening but hearing nothing except her heartbeat in her ears. The kunai in her hand began to tremble with the rush of her adrenaline, but she willed her hands as steady as she could.

It had been too long.

Distantly, she was worried about her teammates. They should have arrived by now—a long time ago, actually, but they were nowhere to be found. They had to have noticed the telltale signs of her battle—the earthquakes, the trailing dust clouds, the spikes in her chakra.

She anxiously sunk her teeth into her lower lip. Where are they?

A disruption in the dust alerted her of the downswing of Kisame's sword not a moment too soon. She flipped backwards and away from the small crater Kisame's sword formed, just for the Kisame in front of her to melted into a puddle. Instinctively, Sakura bowed forward just as his sword split the air above her. Still bent over, Sakura twisted her hips and drove her left fist into Kisame's belly with a loud cry—"Shannaro!"—sending him skidding back with his nails in the dirt for purchase. She shot up faster than she anticipated she could with a swift kick aimed at his lowered head but he blocked it with his forearm; his fingers twitched around the hilt of Samehada but he didn't swing with it. She was too close.

Taking advantage of her proximity, Sakura jerked her left knee up into his face, considering the blood that poured from his lips a small victory.

Unfortunately, it was also short lived, as he his form lost it's mass and water splashed against her. The real Kisame appeared behind her, swinging his sword at her abdomen and ripping into her side; but Sakura's body disintegrated into a flurry of petals, beginning where Samehada had pierced through her side. The Kiri-nin grunted, using a hand to wave the petals away in annoyance.

"Come on out, little bird. I'm getting bored of playing hide and seek," He called out, his voice raspy with intent, but Sakura didn't respond. His ear twitched as he heard the quiver of tree branches overhead; he followed the rustling, his dark eyes warily scanning about the clearing, when a shadow on the ground captured his attention. He craned his neck up sharply, just in time to use his sword to block the axe kick Sakura executed; he felt the ground swallowing his ankles from the power behind the strike.

Using Kisame's sword as a springboard, Sakura flipped back and away from him while flinging a shuriken beyond his head. He made to swing his sword but before he could, the wires Sakura had carefully planted snapped against one another like a chain reaction, pulling taunt against themselves, slicing through another, which in turn snapped another. Kisame listened to each snapping thread even as he swung his sword, only for it to snag against a near invisible wire that had been laced higher up through the tree branches. The snag detoured him for just a fraction of a moment, just long enough for the wires to finally tighten around his neck and arms, but it was all Sakura needed. With Kisame apprehended in the wire, she pressed her fingers into a seal, beryl orbs alight with excitement, and then the unnoticed petals that clung to Kisame's vest and sword illuminated, revealing the seals scrawled across the tiny things. He didn't even get the chance to curse her before the miniature exploding tags went off.

Explosion after explosion went off, bathing the darkening woods with gold and white for several minutes, until they finally sizzled out with the last bomb. Sakura would've smiled tiredly in triumph and thanked Sasuke for helping her perfect her wire trapping, if not for the knife pressed into the crook below her jaw.

"That was very clever," Kisame chuckled into her ear, his grin widening when he felt Sakura shiver. His warm breath danced across her sweating neck mockingly. "That could've been nasty, if I had actually been caught in that web."

Glancing back at him, Sakura could see the singed skin and bubbling wounds across his now bare chest, his flak jacket having been destroyed in her attack. Knowing he actually had been caught in her technique made her smirk despite the situation. Not only that, but he had a kunai pressed against her throat, not his sword, meaning it had landed somewhere else.

Thinking quickly, Sakura jerked her elbow back into his abdomen. He took the brunt of it without much more than a grunt, distracting him long enough for her to ram the back of her skull into his jaw. She hadn't used chakra to cushion the attack so her vision immediately began to swim with agony, but she pushed the pain aside in favor of leaping out of his hold. Standing upped the intensity of her growing headache, making her legs wobble weakly, so she had no choice but to stumble back against truck of of downed tree for stability.

"I'll admit: you're quite the interesting kunoichi," Kisame chuckled, rising onto his feet. "Fighting, all the way to the end. Your village will be proud of your effort." Blood cascaded freely from his now-crooked nose. He leered at her, those sharp teeth of this bloody and teary eyes wild with dark intent. Sakura pressed her hands against the rough bark of the tree trunk, her nails digging into it anxiously. Instead of shrinking down or looking away, Sakura defiantly kept her glare leveled with his own, refusing to show him even a shred of fear even as he twirled his kunai with finality.

She blinked, flinched, and then white floated into her vision, but not blindingly.

"Jonin Haruno." A familiar voice acknowledged, eminating from the white cloak in front of her. Blinking away the daze, Sakura leaned to the side to find gold sparks flickering between Kisame's knife and Okami's tanto. Two more Anbu surrounded the Kiri-nin, one hand drawn in a seal and their others armed with their own tanto.

Her head swimming, Sakura swayed. "...Okami...ta-taichou...!"

"Ah, so the whole mischief has arrived!" Kisame teased, but remained rooted to his place, his eyes darting calculatingly from one officer to another.

The Anbu captain didn't face her, but he didn't need to for Sakura to know he was observing her. She ignored the hardly there warmth that suddenly flickered beneath her navel and repositioned her hands for attack. She was beyond exhausted, ready to drop on her feet and in a hell of a lot of pain, but all of that was eclipsed with a new ray of conviction now that she had help. She knew without considering the skills of the shinobi around her, that they could easily defeat Kisame. And the idea of being so close to ninja as intense of the Black Ops, of fighting beside them, prodded at the embers glowing at the bottom of her stomach.

"Jonin Haruno, stand down."

Sakura looked up at him almost incredulously at his command, unsure if she had heard him correctly. She nearly sputtered, "But—"

"Stand down."

The intonation he used broke the will that managed to suppress her shiver. While the conversations with the man before her could hardly be called such, and were few and far between, Sakura didn't think she had ever heard him reserve such a tone for her before. He was usually curt, polite, saying everything he needed in that controlled voice of his without wasting his breath and with a hint of sarcasm. But this...she couldn't even begin to understand it. There was a particular pull in his voice that conveyed a rugged, no-nonsense nature that stimulated a growing heat in her belly, and holy shit was it attractive.

"Haruno-san," One of the other Anbu addressed, although she wasn't sure which one. "Your team is to return to Konohagakure immediately. Your previous assignment has been terminated."

She knew that voice, too, she realized. But like with the Wolf, could not recall how. But that didn't matter right now. Temper flaring at her dismissal and at the mocking wave the Mist-nin gave her despite the presence of reinforcements, Sakura let out a low growl. How could they expect her to abandon them at this point? To run away with her tail between her legs? She didn't need saving. She needed help. So indignantly, she snapped, "This is my fight, too!"

In front of her, Okami's shoulders stiffened at her defiant tone. A sliver of his mask was suddenly revealed to her as he glanced at her from over his shoulder, and while she couldn't see his facial expression, her breath was ripped from her all the same. He didn't respond to her, at least not with words. He clicked his tongue. And then suddenly, flames licked at her cheeks, the heat eminating from the two Anbu behind Kisame as they let loose massive fireballs. The heat and exploding light was so intense that she began to sweat and had to shield her eyes with her bloody arms, and when the light finally subsided, she found herself in awe as she barely managed to follow the movements of her reinforcements.

Sakura tracked Okami's movements as best as she could with her straining consciousness, watching with unfiltered awe as he juggled kunai with the expert flick of his wrist, just as he had during their spar. His movements were so fluid, so graceful, he looked as if he were dancing rather than fighting to the death. Whereas her fight against Kisame was all melee, Okami's fight almost completely consisted of back to back ninjutsu with the occasional clash of steel, but it wasn't any less captivating. He wove seals so quickly, his long, elegant fingers forming the seals for a fire jutsu that sprouted hungrily from the grin painted across his mask, just to weave the seals for an earth technique that entrapped Kisame's legs. And when he used his tanto, his movements were similar to Kisame's in that his blade moved as an extension of him, rather than an addition. However, there was something unique about the way he swung his sword. While Kisame's sword style was powerful and raged like a stormy mountain, Okami's were artistic and graceful—gentle, as if he didn't want to injure his opponent, and employed graceful movements from his entire body rather that just his shoulder.  Unusual for any shinobi, let alone someone from the corps.

She hardly registered Okami's white cloak as his form flickered in and out of existence, disappearing and reappearing multiple times in the span of just a blink, to the point that it almost seemed as if there were five of him on the field. He moved so fast that Sakura wondered if his existence was even real, if his body were just a withering genjutsu that refused to break. The two Anbu who had been flanking the rear were already gone, likely disappearing into the trees as a barrage of glinting shuriken were methodically flung around the field. Remnants of genjutsu scented the air, disrupting the natural energy around them each time until was dispelled, and then an eerie mist rolled in, blanketing so thickly that all she could see were their silhouettes and the electric sparks of their clashing weapons.  She could hear the operatives communicating through bird calls, and then the brief chirping of lightning, the growl of fire, grunts as strikes made contact.  Her eyes widened as a kunai went straight towards her, grazing her cheek before impaling into the tree behind her to the hilt.

She took that as a warning to leave. And she should have.

You're just in the way, the cut across the apple of her cheek mocked, revealing what Okami meant with that click of the tongue.

But as the mist dispersed and she continued to study the battle splayed before her, Sakura came to find that she couldn't move. Whether it be out of exhaustion or captivation or maybe fear, she wasn't so sure, but she knew she couldn't stay there. The bloodlust that filled the air grew with each moment began to smother her, it's invisible fingers inching their way up her throat until restlessness settled in, and the urge to pick up right where she left off felt so right. But her God damned legs wouldn't react.

Even from where she was, she could feel the bloodlust that trickled from the four shinobi as if it was pressed right against her. Feeling the killing intent, the ground-shattering force of chakra seeping into her bones, thrumming in her veins, lapping at her shoulders, was so intoxicating—no, decadent. Like the anticipation of taking the first bite into a slice of chocolate cake.

Those embers in the bottom of her stomach flared, then. This was certainly the most inappropriate time to consider this, but there was something about knowing that this shinobi—this man—as powerful as he was, had been pinned under her just a handful of days prior, made a flush of heat color her pallid skin. She knew he was talented, strong. He had to be if he was a captain in the corps. But seeing the extent of his prowess in person, feeling the intensity of it as deeply as her chest, remembering him trapped beneath her hips, was far more enticing than it should have been.

Normally she would've been furious about an opponent going easy on her, friendly spar or not, but the intent behind it was clear as fucking day:

He let her pin him down because he wanted her to.

Kamen

She had no idea what the hell happened, but somehow, Sakura's body was no longer relying on the strength of a tree trunk and was now engulfed by a warm chest that smelled like cedar and ash. In a blink, she went from the heat of battle, to the heat of another body wrapped around her, with nausea churning her stomach.

"What—?"

"Holy shit! Sakura!"

"Sakura-chan!" Vision clearing from it's previously spotted condition, Sakura was stunned to find herself pulled into Naruto's arms. She felt her knees quake with the threat of buckling so she eased into the blond's embrace, clutching his jacket for dear life. Distantly, she realized her was shaking. How did I get here?

Obito lifted her chin so he could search her eyes for any subtle signs of head injury. "What the hell happened? Kami, Kakashi's gonna kill me!" His hands traveled to her arms, where he gripped her and scanned the rest of her dazed form. Despite his firm grip on her, Sakura could feel his fingers trembling against her skin. "Fuck."

"I was ambushed by Hoshigaki Kisame."

"Hoshigaki Kisame? "

A hand rested on her shoulder, pulling her attention towards her other dark haired teammate. Sasuke's gaze flittered over her form just as Obito's had but with less worry and more outrage, surveying her injuries with only a hint of a frown marring his otherwise impassive face. His thumb wiped at the blood that collected into the crease of her eye while he let out a near inaudible tsk—conveying his consternation in a way only he could. "Can you heal yourself?" He asked her, a subtle hint of concern playing upon the notes of his voice. She hesitated as she calculated the remnants of her chakra reserve, silently thanking Naruto for the canteen he handed her with a smile, then gave a firm nod. Accepting her answer, Sasuke disheveled his hair with a hand. "We've been ordered to abort mission."

Pulling the canteen away from her lips, Sakura grunted, "Why?"

"We're not sure," Obito replied, both of his hands interlocked at the back of his neck, his thumbs massaging the tendons beneath them out of habit. "We heard you fighting and went to assist but an Anbu squad stopped us. They had orders from the Hokage for us to pull out. They said they'd get you—that you'd—then there was all the explosions and—fuck Sakura don't do that shit again! You know better than to engage enemies without backup!"

He reached for her again; she felt Obito's forehead press against her temple and instantly felt the guilt wash upon her like a bucket of cold water. It was extremely rare for the elder Uchiha to get so overwhelmed with sentiment, so for him to get so flustered meant he was genuinely upset with the situation. Not that she blamed him at all.

She had heard the story of how he'd nearly died, crushed by boulders back in his Genin days. He had been trapped, alone for hours with Kakashi beside him, unconscious from chakra depletion while their third teammate, Rin, ran to get help. He should have died, but he survived thanks to Kakashi. Kakashi had used nearly every ounce of his chakra to chip away at the boulder with his Raikiri, relieving the pressure on Obito's body and making it easier for their sensei and a few others to roll it off of him. Unfortunately, the scars that came with his accident ran deeper than the surface of his skin. He harbored an endlessly deep rooted fear of being separated from his teammates, of someone else experiencing the pure terror he felt in the minutes of not only his imminent death, but of being inches away from a dying teammate and being unable to do a thing about it. She didn't fault him for retiring from the field to teach at the academy a few years later. They nearly lost their whole team that day.

Sakura drew her head back, exhaling a broken breath. God, she felt terrible.

"I'm sorry," She murmured, meeting Obito's frantic eyes. His Sharingan whirled in his lone eye, taking in every detail of her abused face. She tried not to look away. "How'd you guys get to me?" She then asked, hoping to wave away the tension forming between them.

Naruto made a face at that, his grip tightening around her for the briefest of moments before releasing her completely. "We didn't. An Anbu threw you at us then disappeared!"

"Threw me?"

"Yeah! We were about to say "fuck it" and run to you anyway but when I turned around, you were suddenly flying at me! Then he told us to get out of here and disappeared!" He crossed his arms over his chest now that Sakura had pulled herself out of his hold, clearly not at all pleased with the transpiring events. She had a sneaking suspicion which of the three Anbu officers had been responsible for literally tossing her into the arms of her squad, and she wasn't sure if she should have been thankful or even more pissed. The weight of Naruto's hand on her arm pulled her from her thoughts. "Are you okay though?"

Sasuke glanced at her, silently asking her the same thing while Obito busied himself with gathering the last of their things. Waving her hand to dismiss the subject, Sakura began walking off in the direction of Konoha with a slight limp in her steps. "I'm fine. Just a little roughed up and a little pissed."

"Good," The blond huffed, relaxing his shoulders. "He's lucky you aren't that heavy otherwise I would've drop—itai!"

"Dobe."

"Usuratonkachi."

Author's Note

So there's not very much ShiSaku in this chapter and its kind of short and it's basically all action, but it was a necessary break between last chapter's meeting, and the next chapter's. Plus we got to see a little more of Team Seven and a little backstory for Obito, and we got to see Kisame!  I had actually planned and wrote part of the scene with Kisame vs Sakura some time before I even fully planned this story.  And I had considered someone else entirely, but I think this worked out perfectly.

And now, Sakura has finally realized something about the enigmatic Okami-taichou!  Oohh~

I'm so excited because next chapter, you guys are getting a treat in it.  I won't spoil too much, but I can give you a little sneak peek since you guys are so awesome and patient and because being quarantined sucks so I know you all deserve some entertainment.

Also, I plan on posting two more stories relatively soon.  One is an UchiSaku [Shisui/Itachi/maybe Sasuke with Sakura] while the other would be a Madara/Izuna/Tobirama/Sakura one.  I'll post more details in the next chapter if you guys say you're interested.  I've been working on them for a while but never posted them for some unknown reason.  So let me know if you'd be interested in some new, fresh fics!

Anyway, here's your sneak peek:

In the Next Chapter...

-"You would be breaking protocol, Jonin Haruno."

-"I would never be so unprofessional," She paused, her tongue appearing to wet her lips. Shards of emerald glinted impishly, accentuated by the shadows her lashes casted against her cheeks. "Captain."

-She rolled her hips forward into his, moaning purposefully into his ear, and he gifted a pleased groan back before his hands swiftly slipped her already undone shirt from her shoulders. With the skillful twist of his wrist, her bra joined her top on the ground, allowing her skin to press fully against his. Their lips met again, hers with an angry desperation and his with a hungry anticipation for what was to come, their tongues brushing with a deep-rooted passion that seared their flushed skins.

Chapter Text

Sakura thumbed the sides of her head with an exasperated sigh. She was so tired that the calligraphy on the scroll atop her desk began to blur. Absently reaching for her chopsticks, she plucked a cold dumpling from her bento and brought it to her mouth, hoping the food would abate her growing headache.

Six o'clock just couldn't come sooner.

Forcing herself to swallow the leftover gyoza, Sakura shifted in her seat so her elbow rested on her desk and propped her head up by the cheek. Frustrated couldn't even begin to describe how she felt; it had been twenty-one days since the apprehension of Inmate A0768 and he still hadn't breathed a word of worthwhile information to her. Apparently he had let something slip to Ibiki, but to what importance, Sakura wasn't too sure. If the intensity of today's session was any indication of anything, it wasn't anything pertinent. The inmate had somehow retained his silence despite the increasingly severity of his interrogation sessions, much to her surprise, and Sakura had to inwardly applaud his resolve. He had withstood broken fingers and fractured ribs, had spent a collective total of two weeks in arrant isolation, complete with sensory deprivation, and sat through days of waterboarding and stress positions and methodical asphyxiation.

Twenty-one days was too long to go without answers, and both the Council and the Uchiha were beginning to get restless. And restless elders meant migraines and excess paperwork. Restless Uchiha meant grouchy sparring sessions.

Unfortunately, his stubbornness just meant it was Sakura's turn to up the ante. Since he continued to resist Ibiki's methods, then she would be forced to rely on stronger medical ninjutsu against him. Usually, that meant overstimulating his senses or injecting so much chakra into his body that it began to burn from the inside out, reversing a heal, and things to that nature. She wasn't nearly as creative as the director of the Torture and Interrogations Unit, unfortunately—or in her mind, fortunately. And if all else failed, they would have to bring in members of the Yamanaka and Uchiha clans to conduct psychological torture sessions, which, again, they wanted to avoid entirely if possible.

A firm knock at the door tore Sakura from her thoughts, prompting the rosette to straighten in her seat and set her chopsticks down. "Come in," She prompted, her fingers idly folding a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The door opened a moment later revealing a familiar figure in the doorway, cloaked in white and a tanto secured to his back—over his cloak. Sakura leant forward in her seat, propping her elbows up on her desk in a way not unlike her mentor, hoping the movement disguised the brief stiffening of her shoulders.

"Okami-taichou," She greeted, a curious but polite lilt to her voice.

"Haruno-san," The Anbu greeted, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Sakura studied him as he came closer, faintly discerning the way he seemed to keep as little weight as possible on his right foot. The action was almost so well concealed that she wouldn't have noticed, if not for all her years of dealing with stubborn teammates. With her windows shut, she could smell the faintest trace of blood, which only became stronger the closer he came. Dust matted the soles of his boots and the frayed edges of his cloak, and stray droplets of blood colored the face of his mask—a clear indication that he had just come from a mission.

"What can I do for you?" She inquired, as evenly as possible.

"Hokage-sama requires your notes on Inmate A0768," He replied, just as evenly. Her brows furrowed at the stoic tenor he employed; it didn't sound right.

Sakura hesitated for the briefest of moments, warily observing him for a little longer before languidly sliding back in her seat to make room for the opening drawers. She carefully thumbed through the each file, murmuring their names to herself as she scanned the labels that reached over the dividers until she found the folder in question. She flipped through it once for good measure, glancing up at him for the briefest of moments, then shut the folder and held it out for Okami to take. He reached out, revealing gloves that were charred and torn at the tips, and then his fingers gripped the proffered end.

She didn't let go of the file, even as he tugged on it. His mask tilted in a way that made his grin a little more intense, but not in the way that endearingly feral way he had before. "Is there a problem, Haruno-san?" Okami asked, with just a slash of amusement in his otherwise deadpan tone.

Sakura canted her head to the side, her tongue appearing to wet her lips. The light shifted on his mask again, so imperceptibly she nearly missed it. The corners of her lips twitched as she released the documents. "No, forgive me, Okami-san," She lightly replied, taking note of the rigidness of his shoulders at the familiar way she addressed him. She rounded her desk, slowly, casually, so she could now sit back against the front of it. Okami didn't move away despite how close she had gotten, but she could feel that familiar tension winding in her belly. "I actually wanted to speak with you about something."

The operative inclined his head towards one side, obviously, considering his next sentence carefully it seemed. Finally, replied, "What exactly did you want to talk about, Haruno-san?"

"Perhaps talk is the wrong word," She hummed and leant back on her hands, raising her chin up a little so she could peer at him from the slope of her nose. "I don't take kindly to people commandeering my fights, Captain."

Kamen

Shisui liked to think that he wasn't the type to be gripped by impulse.

He dabbled in spontaneity here and there, sure—who hadn't? He wasn't the type to turn down a good time or a free drink whenever the situation presented itself and if he had the time. He was all for a little bit of frivolity and often tried pushing others into dipping their feet in the water, so to speak. Itachi and Sasuke were testaments to that, as he often dragged the two of them into a little bit of mischief whenever he had the chance to. It was part of his duty as an older brother figure, after all.

However, Shisui also prided himself on his ability to blur the lines between work and play just enough, while still keeping them separated.

In his Jonin blues, no one really cared what he got himself into or how many shots he downed before a mission, who he snuck away with, which he took advantage of as often as he could. Polished, he liked to to remain as professional as necessary, but could afford to lean back and cross his arms when no one was looking. As an Anbu Captain, however, there are certain expectations. As a Captain, he's quiet, soft spoken—reticent—and was renowned for the unbending steel in the way he held himself. He demanded authority and respect and its a direct juxtaposition of who he is when he's out in his Jonin blues, or even when he's just a regular operative in a black cloak.

Years of discipline and strict conditioning meant he knew when to curb compulsion and when to let it drive him. But as he stood at the front of desk of the Hokage's apprentice, who looked up at him with that wildfire in her eyes, Shisui could feel his composure slipping down his throat and into his stomach, giving way to a heady fog.

Admittedly, his initial fascination was simple: he wanted to understand what prompted her to leer at him and his squadron with such unfiltered want. He merely wanted to see what would come of it. The air between them had always been thick ever since that first day, when he had been relaying his mission report to Tsunade-sama. But when he peeled back each mask she had fastened to herself and he came to realize that Konoha's sweet little golden girl had a dark side, his attraction morphed accordingly.

he knew he had to be so, so careful to cultivate the tension that built up and compounded between them. And now, as his gaze clashed with cute little Jonin Haruno's, he knew it wasn't all for naught.

When she tilted her head back, revealing the expanse of her neck to him, challenging him, he knew. She had finally entered the game.

He just wished she decided to play when he wasn't acting Captain.

Shisui regarded the medic for a stint, tenebrous orbs narrowing slightly at the way Sakura worked her jaw. He could feel the heat of her stare, dark with anger and something a little more mischievous, as it roved from his knees to his neck, then finally to his mask. He certainly didn't miss the cadence in her voice, or how it had lowered in pitch as her tongue curled around his rank.

"My apologies," He began, a wicked combination of interest and annoyance tampering with his tone. "But you had your orders, Jonin Haruno."

The obvious shift in her title was rewarded with the clicking of her tongue. She made a face then, her nose scrunching and her eyes gleaming with ire. It wasn't very attractive on her, yet fit her well all the same. "I'm not the kind of woman who likes being saved," Sakura dryly remarked.

Shisui found that, despite himself, he couldn't resist the grin that danced around the corners of his mouth. She was trying to hard to maintain her stern appearance, trying to act as if his stoic presence wasn't affecting her. He could see it in how she rocked slightly on her feet and how her thumb drummed against her desk. He should have left by now, and been in with the Hokage discussing the events of his last assignment instead of igniting a fire. He was on the clock, after all, and had never dared chasing impulses while his cloak was white, regardless of how tempting it was to play around with his rank.

But then again, he never had someone like Haruno Sakura to teeter off the edge with. Surely, a little fun wouldn't hurt.

"Aa," Shisui hummed, then adjusted his cadence into a lower, less pleased one. "Nor am I the kind of man who takes kindly to disobedience."

Something akin to excitement sparked in those bewitching pools of emerald at the challenging growl that erupted from Shisui's chest, and the unnervingly attractive sound seeped into the fissures of Sakura's spine, nearly coaxing a shiver out of her. Somehow, she willed it away, but knew he had noticed. "Of course not," Sakura said sarcastically. She straightened away from her desk with that same inviting glimmer in her eye that dared him to move, but then focused on his chest a little too intently than he felt comfortable with. "You're injured."

Shisui's hand instantly darted from its place beneath his cloak when she raised her hand towards him, his long fingers firmly enclosing around her tiny wrist. "That won't be necessary."

In response, Sakura pushed against his hand with her own, eyes flickering towards their joined hands as he strained against her, then back up to his mask. The muscles along his stomach spasmed. "Oh, but I insist."

Shisui couldn't help but let the grin behind his mask grow at the kittenish, albeit bratty intonation behind her words. It was a tone he had never heard from her, but he had to admit suited her well. It was dangerous coming from pouty lips—also a contradiction, just like the rest of her.

Without realizing it, Shisui's teeth sunk into his lower lip in response to the fire undulating below his navel. He felt her knee graze against his thigh, the movement so casual and small that it could have been brushed off as nothing, but he knew better, and he knew that she knew too. He had gotten closer. She shifted her legs, drawing his attention to just how shapely they were in those boots, then raised her hips before settling back down against the edge of her desk. Tsk'ing, Shisui released that deceptively small hand from his grasp, but it remained hovering above his chest, slowly, almost shyly moving towards him. He leant forward, abandoning the otherwise forgotten file folder on her desk and planting his hands on either side of her hips but still maintaining distance between them.

"You would be breaking protocol, Jonin Haruno," He reminded, only minimally annoyed by her defiance. He sucked in a breath when her fingers slipped under the shoulder cinch of his vest, the light scratching of her nails dulled by the fabric of his black shirt. He could already feel her chakra blooming, seeping into his skin, kneading at his muscles, killing the warning growl in his throat.

"I would never be so unprofessional," She paused, her supple tongue appearing to wet her lips. Shards of emerald glinted impishly, accentuated by the shadows her lashes casted against her cheeks. "Captain."

A cooling sensation ghosted along his skin, just as it had the last time she healed him. It warmed almost immediately, pleasantly, like the breath of a lover against his neck. The warmth spread languidly from his chest into his abdomen, just barely entangling with the heat that had already pooled there before dancing out of reach. The edge of his teeth nibbled at his lip at the comfortably inebriating sensation, just barely biting back the sigh that climbed up his throat.

"Haruno," He warned, applying as much bite into his voice as he could, but she didn't seem bothered.

"Think of this as a thank you for all your help on my last mission, Captain."

Without thinking, Shisui bowed his head, letting his neck slacken as her other hand smoothed over the crest of his shoulder, allowing her to reach as much of his back as she could. When both hands slipped beneath his cloak, he leaned a little closer so she could reach more of him.

He couldn't stop the groan that escaped him when her nails drug purposely across the back of his shoulders.

The hardly there warmth grew in intensity at the sound, growing a little warmer, to the point that his shoulders rolled and bowed without his permission. Her chakra was everywhere, licking at every inch of the gash above his knee and nuzzling against the laceration across the back of his hip, soothing but also demanding against his back while her proximal knuckles rolled against the nape of his neck. At the same time, the chakra that dipped down his sternum intertwined with the flames of his arousal, tangling like fingers in hair and yanking tauntingly, just to be soothed away by a cooler ripple of chakra.

"Oh fuck."

His ardent curse transitioned into a fervid growl as Sakura's chakra trickled further down, splaying just below his navel. His fingers dug into the desk, the blood draining from his knuckles and his heart rate climbing; he could feel her chakra seep as low as the base his cock, curling and lapping, but not quite tangible enough—foreshadowing what was to come. Drawing a greedy but shattered breath, Shisui jerked his hips forward, shuddering openly at the satisfying feeling of Sakura's hips slotted completely against his.

Fucking medic-nin.

Inwardly, Shisui snorted at the thought and barred his teeth, chancing another thrust of his hips when his arousal coiled just a little tighter. He was vaguely aware of his sharp pants echoing around the room, of his own breath caressing his cheeks as they bounced off the inside of his mask, and he could smell the affect he had on her but at this point he didn't care. He considered splaying his hands against Sakura's thighs, her hips; imagined bruising them with his fingers as he ground against her as a gift for being so fucking good, but clamped down on the thought. He wouldn't touch her. Not yet.

An undeniable pulsation developed at the base of his shaft—so close! Fuck, so close!—Shisui grit his teeth, steeling himself, then tore himself away from the rosette before the peak of his orgasm could crash into him. He finally looked up at her face, his half lidded eyes alight with lust but also seething with anger. Sakura leant back against her desk, looking awfully haughty with her chin bucked up and her lower lip tucked beneath her teeth.

"If that'll be all, Captain."

Shisui stalked towards Sakura, his movements slow and deliberate as he trapped her against the desk again. He kept a wide breadth between them this time, towering over her with his shoulders taunt and back bowed, as if taking a moment to right himself. Sakura watched him, silent but teeming with excitement.

"Haruno knows what she's doing." Genma's words taunted him. "Trust me. She likes playing all sweet and innocent."

After a moment, he raised his head to her ear and snarled, "I told you not to start things you can't finish, Haruno."

Kamen

A sharp breath escaped Sakura's lips as fingers entangled in her hair, tugging the strands roughly to assist in drawing her head back just the way she liked it. Her other hand hurriedly yanked on the zipper at the front of her top, leaving her front exposed to the hands that already began wandering up her waist. The lips against hers drew into an amused smirk. "Fuck, someone's excited to see me," Those lips teased between hot kisses, although his voice was slashed with desire.

A husky chuckle rumbled in Sakura's chest, twinged with a drop of frustration. "It's been a long day."

She rolled her hips forward into his, moaning purposefully into her partner's ear, and he gifted a pleased groan back before his hands swiftly slipped the red shirt from her shoulders. With the skillful twist of his wrist, her bra joined her top on the ground, allowing her skin to press fully against his. Their lips met again, hers with an angry desperation and his with a hungry anticipation for what was to come, their tongues brushing with a deep-rooted passion that seared their flushed skins.

A coarse moan was ripped from the rosette's bruised lips as strong fingers dug into hip, prompting her lover to push her back so he could encircle one of her nipples with his tongue. She allowed this with a pleased mewl while combing her fingers encouragingly in his hair. Without prompting, he straightened to claim her mouth, trailing wet kisses and licks across her neck and jaw along the way.

Sakura tasted every inch of his mouth, sighing heatedly at the familiar metallic hint that ghosted his tongue, finally welcoming the tension that had been curling within her belly for the past fourteen hours. She dragged her nails over the back of his neck and shoulder, her warm chakra trailing immediately after her fingers like kisses of apology. He growled appreciatively, pulling his lips away so he could tilt his head back against the wall in pleasure. Excitedly, Sakura combed a hand into his hair at the back of his neck, twisting the silky golden-brown locks in her grip and tugging just as roughly as he had with hers; with his neck exposed to her, she traced her tongue along the cords of his slender throat then sank her teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, her palm smoothing over the erection straining against his waistband.

"Bedroom," He breathed, forcefully grinding his hips against hers. "Now."

She lingered against him for a moment, reluctant to cease her ministrations against his neck, and instead raked her manicured nails from the crest of his shoulder and across his naked chest. She felt him shudder under her fingers, accompanied by a broken groan, and then her hair was jerked back again. Her lashes fluttered at the sharp tug that pulled her away from her lover, nose scrunching up just slightly in distaste but otherwise unbothered.

"Someone's being naughty tonight." His voice was thick with mock accusation, though she only acknowledged the decadence that dripped from his breath. The unfiltered carnality struck her like lightning, ripping another loud moan from her, along with a shiver.

Palming his length through his pants and grinding her body against his again, Sakura husked, "What are you gonna do about it?"

She emitted a combination of a gasp and a grunt as the hand that had previously been caressing her waist belted across her rear in response to her taunt. "That depends on you, baby," Was the response murmured into her neck. His hand traced down the curve of hip as he spoke, arousing goosebumps in its wake, before abruptly hooking around her knee and yanking it up against his hip. "Maybe I'll string you up, fuck you so hard, your chakra won't be enough to heal you," He snapped his hips against hers for emphasis, making her body jerk in his hold. He released her leg in favor of flicking her pebbling nipples with his tongue and fingers. "Or I won't touch you—not the way you want me to—until you're begging for a kiss."

Sakura whined at the threat, arching her back so she could feel more of him against her. "Please."

The older man smirked against her skin. "Get on my bed, now."

His hand warningly squeezed her plump cheek once, then slid away so Sakura could stalk out of the living room and into the bedroom. She didn't even get the chance to turn around when the door shut behind her, and his body was pressed against hers; one hand settled comfortably across her neck, not quite squeezing, but holding, while the other began tugging at the buckles to her skirt. She tilted her head back against his chest, giving him access to her neck. Her lashes fluttered when he sucked a bruise against her collarbone. Her left hand joined his, affectionately lacing her fingers with his for a quick moment before gliding upwards. She rocked her hips with him, swaying her body and rubbing her knees together, while she splayed her fingers across her breast.

She sighed in delight, "Genma..."

"That's my good girl," was murmured into her ear, sending tingles down her spine. Her skirt fell away, only to be joined by her black shorts and underwear immediately after, and then fingers were drawing circles around her clit. Her lover expressed his approval with a moan. "You're already so wet."

Sakura closed her eyes, relishing in the attention showering her. She reached back with her other hand to dishevel his hair, imagining them as shorter, darker—wilder.

"I wonder who's got you so worked up today, baby."

She registered the edge of the mattress pressing against her knees, and then a hand pressed against the soft spot between her shoulder blades, guiding her to kneel over the bed. She planted her hands on the mattress and adjusted her position, her anticipation surging at the sound of clothing falling to the floor behind her. A hand smoothed up her tailbone to her neck, tenderly, pushing her hair up and over one shoulder. Closing her eyes, the hand was smaller, more slender and with longer fingers—calloused from juggling kunai.

And then the pressure in her navel twisted as she felt the head of Genma's manhood plunge into her. She imagined it being thicker, like what she felt Okami had pressed against her earlier.

Chapter Text

The harsh crack of kunai beating against kunai reverberated across the training grounds, echoing just a second later. Shisui jerked his arm back, avoiding the edge of the blade as Itachi skillfully twirled it around from his original grip. He mimicked the move, adjusting the knife so the point now faced the ground as he swiped it up across his cousin's torso. Itachi grunted, stepping back lightly while pitching the weapon at the elder Uchiha.

Shisui expertly avoided it, listening to the knife impale into the trunk of a tree several yards away, then skillfully stepped towards the side to avoid the lightening swift petals of fire that zipped past him. The heat of the small flames lapped at his cheek, making his brows furrow slightly out of ire. His stomach lifted as he teleported, ending up directly behind Itachi with a kick aimed at the younger man's ankles, but Itachi rolled forward to avoid the attack. Shisui watched as Itachi's feet just barely managed to touch the ground before he ducked, just managing to avoid the kick the real Itachi pitched from behind him.

"You seem distracted," Itachi lightly commented, his clone exploding behind Shisui.

Shisui disappeared without a response, reappearing several yards away from Itachi, fingers already flying through a series of seals. He puffed out his chest, shoulders so far back it was uncomfortable, and let loose a dragon that could easily stretch across the training grounds in length. The dragon roared, soaring towards Itachi with a speed unlike any other, only to crash against a mirroring beast. A flurry of twisted metal flew from the smoke and flames, traveling so rapidly that one actually nicked Itachi's shoulder. Shisui appeared from the flames next, his tanto poised to strike only to be countered by Itachi's. They stood at the edge of the clearing, blades sliding and trembling at their standstill and breaths somewhat heavy.

Lifting his right leg, Shisui promptly push-kicked at Itachi, sending his younger cousin back a few steps. Itachi recovered quickly, rushing forward and swiping his tanto at Shisui's abdomen, then redirecting on the back swing to lash out at Shisui's throat. Shisui leant out of reach of both strikes, simultaneously thrusting his blade straight towards Itachi's sternum; Itachi bowed into the movement, latching onto the shoulder of his partner's shirt and driving his knee up into Shisui's stomach. On the mend, Shisui grounded his stance then swept a high kick that Itachi's bracer intercepted, then the two mirrored one another by thrusting and batting one another's weapons away. For a while, they continued in close quarters like this, neither able to land a hit with either their fists nor their blades, and ducking under stray kicks; breaking when Itachi rounded on his heels, his blade swiping behind him. Shisui leapt over Itachi to avoid being stabbed in the side, throwing in a low kick to the knee.

As soon as his boot connected, Itachi's knee folded for the briefest of moments, giving Shisui the opportunity to deck his knuckles into his jaw. A grunt drenched in blood left Itachi's lips at the assault but it hardly hindered him otherwise. His right arm shot up to block the following kick while his left drove the kunai into Shisui's calf. Shisui cursed loudly as the knife was pulled from his muscle, stumbling back a step. He ignored the sharp pain that began to spread towards his thigh even as Itachi charged him with the blade of his knife drawn to his neck, back peddling a few steps with the movement to prevent the blade from digging into his skin.

"What's bothering you so much that you're allowing me to beat you?" Itachi asked, just a touch of mirth lacing his tone.

Their dark eyes met; Shisui's lips upturned into a smirk. "You? Beat me?" He chuckled. "Cousin, I could be blind and unconscious, and I'd still beat you."

Shisui flicked his wrist, tossing his short sword towards the left and catching it in his other hand, allowing him to swing the weapon at Itachi's torso and therefore forcing him to put distance between them. Itachi jerked his head to the right to avoid a wide slash, countering with an upward one that collided with Shisui's blade and birthed blue sparks. Shisui released his grip on his sword, allowing it to drop just to catch it with his right hand and launching another blow to the midsection.

Itachi blocked Shisui's swing from the right, then the strike from above, his right hand pushing the blunt of the sword away while he twirled on his feet and slashed in one fluid movement. Shisui sidestepped, swinging his sword low but twisting it so the blunt end bounced off of Itachi's shin painfully. The younger of the two rushed forward, sliding on his knees when Shisui swung his tanto at him from the middle to duck the sword; he raised his sword into a vertical position, just barely managing to block Shisui's attack. From his position on the ground, Itachi managed to roll over the low swipe of his cousin's sword, maneuvering on his knees to return a few slashes that were easily dodged before getting back on his feet. Shisui leapt into the air, his tanto now making a jabbing motion towards the space between Itachi's neck shoulder, but the ravenette ducked his head forward to avoid it, spinning on his heel to aim a slice at Shisui's midsection, then brought his tanto up over his head to block the attack that came down on him from above.

With a smirk, Shisui deftly and artfully twirled his sword around his body, more in a show of skill rather than attempt to attack while Itachi caught his breath. Once he was sure his relative had regained his composure, he prepared to attack again, tanto turned the opposite direction for an awkward strike, but halted immediately when Itachi made no move to react. Knitting his brows, Shisui lowered his weapon and straightened his posture, head canted to the side in confusion.

"Itachi?"

The Uchiha heir had an expression of confusion painted on his face. Or at least, his version of confusion. Not much changed in his expression, but Shisui could see the faint crease between Itachi's perfect brows and the hint of a frown upon his lips. "I know you better than anyone," Itachi seemed to chide. "I won't push you, but I do know that something is off. Your attacks aren't as polished as usual."

The tone in which Itachi employed was a mature, scolding one that he really only ever used with his otouto. Frankly, Shisui found it rather amusing that Itachi thought the tone would work on him, but also irritating because it actually sort of did. Itachi rarely ever questioned him on things, whether it be directions or opinions, or even something as small as food preferences. He never liked to pry or get himself involved in things that didn't concern them, even if those things involved Shisui. So for his cousin to scold him like a child was quite an unordinary occurrence. Had he been so transparent? Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Shisui's armed hand raised slightly as if asking "so what?".

"Drop it, Itachi."

A muscle in Itachi's jaw jumped with ire. "I know you," He repeated with more finality. Despite keeping up his straight face, part of Shisui wavered under the hard glare of his future patriarch. Then his expression, as faint as it was, morphed into one completely different. Something that was perhaps amused if Shisui cared to focus. "Either Sasuke somehow managed to best you in a spar, or you've found someone equally as irritating as yourself to put up with.  I don't hear my brother running around bragging about his win, so who's the poor, unsuspecting woman this month?"

"I would say I'm hurt by that, but not even your words could touch me, Cousin."

"Aa but my blade did."

Brow twitching at his cousin's snark, Shisui flung his tanto at his cousin with deadly accuracy, hardly giving Itachi time to react as he followed up with a jab to the stomach. They resumed their spar, reverting to using bare knuckles and fire techniques, but Shisui couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. It was dangerous, even if he was just in the middle of a friendly spar, but he knew Itachi was aware of his distraction and would be mindful of it.

Not that Shisui would ever admit it aloud, but if he were to be completely honest, Itachi was right: he was distracted, and even though it wasn't affecting his mission performances or his duty at the Police Force, it was unacceptable. Because for the past two and a half weeks, all Shisui could think about was at his last encounter with Konoha's coveted medic. More specifically, about that kittenish smirk she had daringly pressed upon her lips as she got him so turned on, that even now he couldn't fuck it out of his system; about how comfortably he had fit between her legs; how hot she felt when he ground his arousal against her. And then she had the audacity to throw his rank back in his face afterwards.

While on shift!

He was all for a little office sex, don't get him wrong. And he's indulged his fair share of women with such a fantasy but never when he was acting Captain, and never with a woman as prominent as the Hokage's disciple because there were lines even he knew better than to cross. Speaking of—She was Haruno fucking Sakura: Apprentice to the God Damned Godaime Hokage—not some random nurse or Jonnin at HQ! He would've never in his life thought that she of all people would've not only been so open to something so scandalous, but would initiate it.

And she thought she was so cute, giving him lip and peering up at him with those mossy eyes so full of mock innocence, acting as if she hadn't deliberately broken protocol—acting like an insubordinate, little brat. Honestly, if he wasn't so furious with her, it would've been the sexiest fucking thing in the God damned world.

It had taken nearly every ounce of restraint he had to resist bending her over the desk and taking her then and there, with his fingers tangled in her hair and his teeth reminding her just who he was—rank and shift be damned! But he didn't. And he won't.

Not yet.

Kamen

Today's interrogation lasted for four hours, much to Sakura's chagrin and her relief. She had been forced to watch with hardened eyes as this man, the enemy, withstood a painful trial for information. Ibiki was never a sweetheart, his reputation far from white, but having been present for a good portion of the man's work, Sakura could tell that this session was rather tame compared to the rest. She assumed he was finally cracking, seeing as how Ibiki's assistant was scribbling away at notes almost the entire last two hours.

It all came to an abrupt end, however, when the man abruptly snapped his own neck.

One moment, Inmate A0768 was glaring up at Ibiki, having let slip one last vague line of dialogue (she rarely paid attention to anything said during such sessions as it wasn't her job), and the next, he had jerked his head back and up, eyes rolling back as his head fell limply against his chest. While it was normally physically impossible for one to break their neck on command like that, he had managed to scrape up the fumes of chakra he had left to strengthen the force necessary for it. By the time Sakura realized what he was doing, all she could do was gasp and look away in both disgust and heartbreak. She supposed he would've rather ended his life on his own terms than face whatever it was the Hokage had planned for him.

After Sakura confirmed the man was in fact deceased, Ibiki let out an embittered snarl, a fist slamming into the steel tabletop and disturbing the bloodied utensils splayed across it's surface. "Damn it," He shouted. It took him less than a moment to regain his composure. "Clean up then get some rest, Haruno."

That would be the extent to Ibiki's sympathy towards her, she knew.

Even though she was a shinobi, and therefore shouldn't have been so affected by death (of an enemy, no less), Sakura was first and foremost a medic, so her sense of empathy was more sensitive than the average ninja. While she was devoted to her village and had killed for it, she never sought it out or wished it upon others. Most didn't understand; Ibiki was one of the few who did, even if barely. So he left her alone, the door left open, for just a moment so she could clap her hands together in silent, brief prayer, before two masked guards entered to collect the body.

She spent the next hour and a half scrubbing the room with a vindictive sanitizer that even the hospital would refuse, reflecting on her plans for the rest of the day. She promised to have lunch with Ino today, then she and Obito were going meet for some training with his kusari-fundo. Then she had to go to the market and pick up some things for her kitchen; it was her turn to host Team Seven's Friday night dinner. Naruto and Obito said they would be coming by for sure, as did Sai. Kakashi never promised to come, but he did sometimes if he felt up to it, so they always made sure to have a little extra over, just in case. Yamato had left for a mission a few hours ago. She wondered if Rin would be tagging along? She hoped she remembered to ask Obito later.

The sound of the door opening pulled Sakura from her musings, prompting her to turn to face her guest with the intention of scolding them for entering without knocking, just to cut herself off as Okami entered shut the door behind him.

His cloak was white today, hood pulled down and tanto nowhere to be seen. She didn't know much about Anbu's protocol but from what she had seen from her teammates and Okami, she deduced that the combination of weapons and cloak colors and fastenings worked as some sort of code amongst them.

Seeing the operative sent Sakura's pulse racing, but she schooled herself to keep from visibly reacting. She hadn't seen him in a while, not since their heated exchange in her office, and part of her was okay with that.  Things had ended abruptly last time they met, with him disappearing almost immediately after severing his connection to her chakra.  At first, Sakura assumed he was a little flustered, and looking back, she felt guilty for abusing her position and his injury like that.  Had it been someone like Kiba or Genma, or even Kotetsu, there wouldn't be even a shred of guilt.  But then again, all three of them would have played along all the way to the end.  Well, Genma would have.  Kotetsu likely would've played it off and continued where they left off later at his place, while Kiba would've thrown her onto the desk before she got far.  But that was besides the point.  

It was completely inappropriate and out of character for her considering her and Okami's relatively fresh relationship.  She just hoped that he either moved on and saved her the humiliation, or he would follow up with a technique of his own.

"Okami-taichou," She greeted, bowing her head, hoping the movement would hide her anxiety. Then she leant back so her hips rested against the table in an attempt at coming off as indifferent.  "What can I do for you?"

"Yamanaka-san will be late for your scheduled lunch date today and asked that I relay this to you," He easily replied, his cloak spreading as he folded his arms across his chest plate. Despite the casual action, his tone retained his no-nonsense polish, with hardly more than a dash of friendliness. When he tilted his head, the room's bright, artificial light elongated the shadows tattooed against his mask, warping that anamorphosis grin into something akin to a feral snarl. Had it been any other officer speaking to her with that tone, regardless of the innocence of the missive, Sakura didn't doubt that she would be shivering where she sat, but this was Okami, so she knew better.

Sakura quirked a brow at this and mirrored him by crossing her arms, but the amusement on her face was clear. "And she sent you to be her messenger?"

He made an amused sound, something akin to a chortle; the sound instantly soothed away her concern. He wasn't mad, at least. "Actually, I wanted to speak to you."

Both eyebrows shot up this time. "Oh? If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you have a thing for me, Taichou," Sakura teased despite herself, moving to sit atop the table, chin inclined and the tip of her tongue dancing along the seam of her parted lips, daring him to play along.

Okami remained silent for a moment, appearing to be considering her words but Sakura just knew that in actuality, he was grinning beneath his mask. The shift in his personality was a stark contrast to what it had been a few moments prior, and the medic wasn't sure if it should have concerned her more than it did, or if she preferred it. "I would never be so unprofessional," He replied, parroting their previous encounter.

"Of course." She bit at the edge of her smile—a vain attempt at hiding her creeping grin—then added, "A woman can dream, I suppose."

She felt his sides against the insides of her knees now. She ignored the instinct to draw him closer, allowing him to settle between her legs if he wanted to; and he did, much to her surprise. Okami leant forward, cornering her with his hands at her sides and his hips firm against hers. This close, Sakura knew he could hear the break in her breathing, could see the excitement in her eyes glinting like candles in the dark. But more importantly, with him so close, she noticed something else about him.

He was already hard.

She knew exactly what was probing her inner thigh.  She had felt it—him—the last time they were in this situation; just briefly, but its girth had branded itself well into her memory nonetheless.

"Are you dreaming of me now, Jonin Haruno?"

His question was dripping with latent insinuation, so much so that she was honestly staggered for words. Sakura knew she shouldn't have taken the bait, but how could she not when he was quite literally presenting himself so blatantly? She worked her jaw, contemplating on how to respond, but all the witty, kittenish responses stashed in her head shattered in her throat when she suddenly found herself pinned against the table. He had twirled her around and bowed her over the table with her right arm drawn against her back and her left secured over her head: a very vulnerable position for a kunoichi.

A dangerous combination of excitement and fear swirled around her belly as she considered their compromising position, amplified by at least ten degrees when she caught a glimpse of their reflection in the one-way mirror. Seeing herself splayed out across the table, with Okami-san standing over her, his head canted to the side and wolfish grin wide, evoked perverted waves of excitement that ripped through her and colored her already flushed skin.

Someone could walk in at any moment, or see them through the glass if they happened to walk by. Not only would she be absolutely mortified if anyone, let alone Ibiki found her in such an inappropriate manner, but Sakura knew that there would be consequences for it. Suspension, write-ups, a long-winded lecture about the sanctity of T&I's workplace. She should've been pissed. She should've thrown him off of her and yell at him for abusing his power. It would have been so easy to break his hold, taking up less energy than it would to smile, and Sakura knew that he knew she could, too.

But she didn't.

Because she liked it.

She liked the attention—his attention—the thrill, the idea of what their position entailed. She had always had an attraction for men in uniform, as Ino often loved to point out. Being a woman of high esteem, nothing was more attractive to her than a man with power. So to her, Anbu was decadence. They were wild and exciting, powerful in that they were the very backbone of their village, and the anonymity of their masks was an added layer of sensuality that was almost overkill. Adding their location to the equation only made it all the more scandalous.

The rosette shifted against his hold, though not in a way that was resisting, just trying to alleviate the pressure in her shoulder. Her stomach fluttered, tightening, catching her racing heart. She watched, owlishly, as the Anbu Captain leant over her, his chest plate pressing fully against her back almost like a reminder. "Answer me, Haruno," He demanded, re-employing his authoritative voice.

Sakura's lashes fluttered, lowering fully as she forced herself to catch the air that tried to rush out of her just then. His low growl chased an aroused shiver up her spine and lapped at the back of her neck, demanding a response from her, and he received one in the form of a soft sigh.

A lusty chuckle rumbled in his chest then, and she felt it travel up her tailbone. "I don't even need to hear your response to know the answer! Dreaming about your superiors—on the clock, no less..." When she felt his hips slot against her rear, Sakura pressed her brow against the table and curled her fingers into a fist so tight, the blood drained from her knuckles. Okami pulled her outstretched arm back to join her other behind her back, then used his now free hand to comb Sakura's hair away from her ear. "What am I going to do with you, Haruno?"

Finding her voice, shaky as it was, Sakura whispered, "T-taichou, we shouldn't do this here."

Deaf to her comment, Okami wedged a knee between her thighs, then hooked his foot around her ankle so he could force her legs apart. Once he repositioned her, he pressed his hips against her again, coaxing another restricted gasp from her. The hand that was in her hair ran through the locks twice, then his gloved fingers lowered to brush the back of her neck, genially soothing the muscles there. "Initially, I was going to discuss your conduct from our last encounter," He husked. Then he ground his hips against her, experimentally but with a touch of confidence, the swell of his arousal tracing hers. "But it looks like I'll need to do something about your attitude first."

The embers in Sakura's stomach flared to life as she felt the sharp probing of his stiff length against her, fueled further by the venereal implications of his growl. There was such abundant innuendo woven in his speech, such potent allusion to things far from sinless that this almost felt unreal. God, their mutual attraction was so palpable at this point, and the tension was so thick, it was painful. They were toeing the ledge of a dangerous cliff, swaying back and forth over that invisible line, just a step away from falling over.

They had to be careful, lest they teeter off the edge.

The noise that escaped her mouth when he tugged on her hair came out louder than she anticipated, it's pained huskiness more familiar to her than it should've been. He pulled on her hair almost empirically, rough enough to make her look up but not so much that it compared to her usual lovers' eagerness—testing the waters. He massaged her wrist with his thumb immediately after, as if to make up for any pain his handling may have caused. That little bit of affection, as small as it was, let her know that he was experienced; that he knew what he was doing and how to do it, and that he was inviting her rather than demanding, even if it didn't seem like it.

"Look at yourself," Okami crooned, with just a drop of command in his tone. Sakura regarded their reflection once again, eyes transiently flickering towards the door in a fit of trepidation, but the undeniable gleam of want remained rooted in her irises. He purposefully snapped his hips against her a little more aggressively than before, making her jerk against the table. "You like this, don't you, Haruno?"

Yes, oh God yes she did.

He hardly touched her, but their contact was full of the ferocity of weeks worth of pent up sexual frustration and hunger and unfiltered want, making that smoldering puddle in her belly spread through her whole body. They went from complete strangers who only briefly glanced at one another under strictly professional circumstances, to this—whatever this was—in just under a month. They were moving a little faster than she thought they would, so she wasn't too sure if she was pleased, or worried. It had taken a little longer and a lot of alcohol for her to even get the nerve to tempt Genma and Kotetsu like this, and years of back and forth with Kiba, yet here she was, reduced into a sweltering mess of a girl by a stranger in a mask, in an interrogation room of all places.

Flashbacks of their spar came to the front of her mind, reminding her of the path his fingers had taken that night. She remembered the sweltering heat that bubbled where his fingers danced, how she had clamped down on a shiver when he dusted his fingers along the incurve of her waist. She couldn't see his face even then, but she felt just how ardently he had inspected her when he intently traced the scar Sasori had gifted her.

Back then, Sakura realized what the crackling tension between them stemmed from. She would've been blind and stupid not to. That night, she couldn't wash away the effect of his light caress, and it didn't fade even when she retraced his touch and covered it with her own. And then when she saw him after her experience with the Kiri swordsman, showing off just how much more powerful he was and bruising her ego, her flesh ignited as if activated by a seal. It made her fingers twitch, carnal hunger and affronted defiance demanding she touch him—make him feel good too. And since she was being honest with herself, she did feel a little upset that he had broken away from her when she did. But she shrugged it off and fucked it out of her system.

Or so she thought.

Seeing him now, feeling the frenzied passion he had wrapped up under that mask, plucked a series of strings in her that she didn't think would play well.

Sakura's answer finally came in the form of her rolling her hips back against his and letting out a breathless moan. The hand that had previously been threading through her rosy tresses detangled itself, traveling down her back with splayed out fingers that reached for everything it could. His movements paused for the briefest of seconds, as if he were considering something, and then he relinquished his hold her hands. He traced the crest of her rear, one hand steadying her hip and the other hiking under her medic skirt.

"Use your words," Okami demanded, kneading her cheek in warning. His fingers on her hip squeezed tightly, uncomfortably but also not.

Grinding back against him again, Sakura breathed out a strained, "Yes, Taichou."

The heady, drawn out moan that responded—"Ah fuck..."—was unexpected but well received, setting fire to her chest in an intensity Sakura hadn't ever felt before. She felt Okami's hand reach between them, the mountains of his knuckles skimming over her aching womanhood impishly before it was replaced by the much more prominent bulge of his erection. She assumed he had adjusted himself because she felt more of him than before. The hand that had been on her waist moved to grasp onto her shoulder, then he rutted his hips against her over and over again, alternating between movements so unrestrained, she had to brace her arms against the table, and ones so gentle, she had to push back against him with as much fervor.

After a few more moments of this, Okami grunted, then straightened her up against him so her back was pressed to his chest plate. She kept her gaze focused on their reflection, watching with baited breath as his hand disappeared under her shirt. His ravenous fingers hastily folded the lip of her bra down to free her breast, immediately working to roll the hardening nipple between his proximal knuckles, then he tentatively dusted his fingertips against the underside of her breast with a touch so faint, it tickled. The leather on his gloves added a whole other level of sensation to his touch that evoked a quake in her knees.

"Shh," He breathed into her ear when her keening raised in pitch, his voice clearly heard even with his mask. "You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"

Sakura spared another timid glance at the door, praying to the Gods that no one would burst through any time soon because she'll be damned if the growing friction between her thighs wasn't dealt with, even if this certainly wasn't the place to do it.

"Taichou," She managed between labored breaths. "Someone might walk by." Despite her words, Sakura arched her back and reached back to thread her fingers into the Anbu officer's hair. She shifted, lifting her right leg to rub her thighs in a desperate attempt at chasing the pleasure that made her ache. Noticing her movement, Okami lifted her leg up and propped it up on the edge of the table, smirking beneath his mask when she repositioned herself more comfortably. The new position allowed him to press even closer to her—allowed him to feel even more of her.

"You're such a tease, Haruno," He murmured, kneading her breast almost a little too roughly for her, but the discomfort only seemed right with the fervid mood so she kept her complaints to herself. "You act all shy and nervous now, talking about someone walking in," He paused, reaching around to drag his fingertips against the length of her womanhood through her clothes, earning a mewl in reward. "But you can't stop watching what I'm doing to you."

The blush that had painted her cheeks burnished even brighter, spreading down the back of her neck. But she didn't bother denying it.

Okami's fingers quickly found her clit through her shorts; he applied more pressure to his touch, encircling the little bundle of nerves, grunting appreciatively when she tugged on his hair—he liked that, she noted. Sakura imagined his tongue wet his lips, his breaths becoming more labored as his adrenaline rushed through his veins.

"You like playing all sweet and innocent—but then go mouthing off like a fucking brat." She pictured his smirk stretch into a feral grin when he heard her breath catch at the name. He punctuated his statement by abandoning her breasts in favor of wrapping his arm around her waist so he could snap his hips against her with more intent.

Sakura bit at the inside of her cheek, hoping the pain would help alleviate the annoying buzzing of arousal that was both too much, and not enough. The way Okami was speaking to her—the dirty, filthy things he was saying, paired with the absurdly controlled timbre that only someone of his rank could use, tainted with just a slash of salacity—set off all the nerves in her body all at once. She should've been offended at what he said—what he called her—but any temper she would have had melted into pools of impossibly intense ardor as she heard him fumbling with his armor, and then one of his bracers clattered loudly against the table.

Her heart constricted in anticipation.

She prepared to retort, but found herself choking over her words when he spoke first. "You act like such a good little girl, following the rules, fretting over patients."

Her breaths grew more labored, more heavy as the knot in her stomach finally tightened enough for the sensation to take root. Okami's hand worked its way under the waistband of her shorts, and when the pads of his bare fingers slipped past her underwear Sakura bucked into him with a loud, but bitten cry. "Oh!"

He encircled her clit almost unforgivingly, drawing away to tease her opening with the very tips of his fingers, refusing to go any deeper than his first knuckle despite her jerking hips. "You do all that, but then you take on whole platoons of rogue nin, level whole sections of forest."

"T-Taichou—!"

"And when you fight, snapping necks with your thighs and ripping whole trees from their roots, it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life."

She liked the praise. It wasn't words, she could tell. There was a veil of admiration draped over his admission, and wasn't anything like the appraising grunts of her other partners. They always went on about how good she was: her beautiful her body looked, how amazing her moans sounded, her obedience. Not her outside of the bedroom. She loved the praises her other lovers sang, don't get her wrong, and she had no qualms with being a little submissive if that was how they were playing that night. But this?

She liked this even more.

She liked the underlying suggestion that she was the dominant one despite her submission, that she had more power than he did even though he was taking control of the situation. With her other partners, her dominance was one given but controlled by them, while with Okami, she realized it was the opposite.

Sakura shut her lust-laden eyes, desperately trying to steady her breathing; she was growing close already, teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain—just a little more... His other hand returned to her breast to pluck at her pert nipple, soon joined by one of her own hands as she attempted to coax him to touch her just the way she liked.

"Then you take on one of the most ruthless shinobi in all the nations, and disrespected me in front of him and my own team."

"I-I—" Her nails embedded into his glove. Her stomach twisted, upturned, fluttered. There were too many things to focus on, too many sensations.

"And then you pulled that little stunt in your office."

She absently realized her right hand had slipped out of his hair and was wretched desolately in the fabric of his vest, so she reached back up for his hair. She yanked on it harder than he had with hers, wordlessly demanding that he stop teasing her, shuddering when he snarled into her ear. "You smiled all coyly, acting as if you hadn't done anything wrong, using your chakra to make me so hard, that I almost fucked you right into your desk."

"Taichou, I'm going to—"

Her words died on her tongue as she finally felt his fingers enter her. His pace was average but powerful, making her jolt with the impact of his strokes. She sealed her lips with her own hands to keep from keening too loud, but then he pulled one of them away and brought it to the waistband of his pants. Sakura felt the head of his cock probing against her palm, still blanketed by his trousers but moist with a trickle of his own arousal. She palmed him as best as she could in her position, and was thusly rewarded when he curled his fingers and rubbed his thumb against her nearly overly-sensitive clit.

"You're playing a dangerous game, you little brat."

Okami bit back his groan as Sakura's muscles clamped abruptly, pulsing rhythmically around his fingers, trying to draw him deeper but having nothing else to grip. Her thighs trembled against his, struggling to maintain her weight; she slumped back against him, still rolling her hips into his hand and he allowed it.

She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pants, just managing to graze against the soft flesh of his member before he pulled his hips away, forcing her hand away much to her displeasure. Okami ignored her dissatisfied whine, thrusting and curling his fingers into her with more urgency. "I'm not like those dirty books you like reading when no one's around, Haruno. I'm the real thing."

The smoothness of Okami's voice dissipated, sharpening into something a little more rugged, and that combined with the vulgarity of his words and the raging storm below her navel made every fiber of her being burn. Sakura twisted and writhed around on top of the table, spewing curses as Okami's fingers pricked against the bundle of nerves hidden inside of her again and again and again until the swirling rage of fire within her finally broke. The tendrils of her orgasm tore down her thighs, her knees, her toes, and quickly spread up her tailbone, reaching as high up her body as the back of her neck.

Okami didn't immediately cease his movements even as she leapt from the cliff of her climax, but he did ease into a sedated, forbearing pace that was only distantly unwelcome. Once she had rode out the waves of her pleasure, Sakura dropped her knee from the table, groaning as a series of bones cracked all along her hip and spine. He withdrew his fingers then, slowly, teasing her with a few lazy strokes along the length of her soaked lips while his other hand readjusted her bra. "Remember that, Jonin Haruno, because next time, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're going to feel me inside of you for days.  When I'm done with you, all you're going to crave is my hands on your skin and my cock in your mouth."

She wanted to say something, because she felt like she had to but everything she managed to scrape together disappeared when she felt his breath and lips against the back of her neck.  Her eyes shot up to the mirror, but he was already gone.

Chapter Text

Today just wasn't her day.

First, Sakura found herself woken up nearly two hours earlier than scheduled. She had been up late the night before attempting to read through some paperwork that had piled up, so those two hours were dearly missed. It also meant her pitiful attempt at a breakfast was comprised of yogurt and fruit, eaten during her sprint from her apartment to the hospital.

Secondly, in connection with her first point of disaster, a Chunin squad had just returned from a sour mission with serious injuries that Shizune wouldn't have been able to handle on her own. Not only that, but they were infected with a complex poison that tampered with one's ability to control their chakra, making their chakra feel syrupy and sluggish. Extracting it proved to be a bitch and a half since it kept trying to cling to her chakra as she worked, and it ended up draining her reserves quicker than she liked, but she managed.

After stabilizing the four shinobi and cataloging the poison they came in with, Sakura found herself in a standoff with a delirious head trauma patient, who was armed with a scalpel from God knows where. Not only did she have to wrestle with that, but then she had to heal the nurse he had attacked, then figure out just where the hell he had gotten the weapon, or more importantly, who the hell left a scalpel within reach of a patient.

And just as she began angrily stabbing at the cafeteria-made tempura that was her lunch, she found herself abandoning it in favor of rushing to assist on another emergency admittance. This time, it was two Chunnin and two Jonin who were attacked by what seemed to be a fan of explosives. There were pieces of shrapnel embedded over nearly every inch of them, with some metal scraps embedded as deeply as the liver, but most skin deep. Not to mention, they were riddled with various degrees of burns across the chest and arms. It took eight pairs of hands and three hours to get all the shrapnel out of them while she and Shizune worked on the lacerated organs and the charred skin, and by the end of it, Sakura was ready to hide under her desk and sleep—the rest of her shift be damned!

And all that was just the larger inconveniences! Beyond the big stuff, she also snapped her one and only hair tie, realized she forgot her wallet at home, and banged her left shin no less than two times today.

She had just plopped down into her desk chair and picked up her chopsticks when a knock interrupted her. It took all of her willpower to keep from snarling at whoever stood on the other side of her door, resulting in her staring at the wooden surface with an unnaturally blank face as she considered the pros and cons of pretending she wasn't there. Finally, Sakura sighed in resignation then set her chopsticks down again, beckoning her guest with a polite, "come in!"

The door opened, revealing a familiar head of lazily ruffled, black hair, paired with sharp, slanted eyes; all wrapped up in the typical Chunin attire. Kotetsu smiled at Sakura as he entered, using his foot to shut the door as his arms were full with a cardboard box full of files, much to her despair. "Hey Sakura," He greeted, setting the box on top of her desk.

Despite her unfortunate mood, Sakura felt a tickle in her belly at his appearance. "Kotetsu," She returned, leaning onto her palm. "What can I do for you today?"

"I've got some things here for you on behalf of Tsunade-sama," He replied, the edge of his tongue swiping over his lips, easily capturing her attention. He began rifling through the files, his dark, metallic eyes flickering up to hers every so often, just watching.

Sakura clicked her tongue at that, a frown tugging at her lips. The box wasn't very large, but it had to have had at least twenty files in it, and if Tsunade honestly expected her to go through all of those today, she would be sorely disappointed, because she had no intention on taking anymore work home this week. Almost scared of the answer, she asked, "All of that?"

Kotetsu removed a relatively thin folder from the box and set it down in front of her, then searched through the assortment again. "No, I've just got four for you today," He answered. "The rest are going to Shizune and Yugao."

Placing a hand over her heart, Sakura exhaled loudly in relief, earning an amused chuckle from the Chunin. "Thank God," She breathed, leaning back into her seat.

"You look a little tense, Sakura," He commented, his eyes taking on an impish glint that made her heartbeat accelerate. "You alright?"

"I've had a rough day," She casually admitted, rolling her neck for emphasis.

"Yeah?" He asked, setting down another file. "Is there anything I can do about it?"

Sakura caught the latent intent in his words, the anticipation that he always had whenever she found him staring. There was no doubting that look, or what it entailed or wanted, and she had to admit that it was a good look on him. His forwardness actually surprised her, because as open as he was in flirting with her, he was always very careful about it, only ever acting on his heated glances once they were back at his place.

So amused by his sudden boldness, Sakura leant back in her seat, casting him a gaze that was equally appraising as it was challenging. "Maybe," she hummed. "Did you have an idea?"

Having set down the last of the necessary files, Kotetsu slowly rounded Sakura's desk, their eye contact broken only once he came to stand behind her. He brought his hands to the crests of her shoulders, his thumbs positioned over the taunt skin just between the back of her neck and shoulders. Allowing it, Sakura shifted into a more comfortable position in her seat, wincing slightly as Kotetsu pressed a little too roughly on a particularly tender patch of muscle.

"You're overworking yourself again," He accused, though not unkindly, adjusting the pressure of his hands.

Sakura hummed in response, her lashes fluttering momentarily before lidding completely. "It's not as if I really have a choice," She mumbled, angling her head to the side so he would have better access to the sore spot beneath his palm. Taking the hint, Kotetsu brushed her hair away from her shoulder, his fingers leaving a trail of playful sparks a split second before they even touched her. His firm kneading coaxed a pleased breath from her lips, eagerly encouraging him to continue.

Sakura eased against him, basking in the sensations his unsure but determined hands strummed within her. He rolled his knuckles over the rise of her wingbones, smoothed his palms down the slopes of her shoulders, feathered the pads of his fingers up the curvature of her spine, employing the same touches she had used on him before. She wasn't really in the mood to flirt, not with the day she's had, but she did appreciate his attempts.

"No Izumo-kun, today?" She managed to ask.

"No. But I can get him, if that's what you want."

At the feel of his lips pressing against the side of her neck, Sakura's spine stiffened, then slackened with the undulation of her belly. Kotetsu nuzzled her neck with delicate kisses, so faint they were whispers, and part of Sakura wanted to keep him there but she knew she shouldn't. She threaded her fingers into his wild hair with the intention of pushing him away but instead she left them there. She felt one of his hands slide away from her shoulder and down the length of her arm, before diverting from their path to encircle the zipper of her top.

"Really Kotetsu?" She murmured, tightening her grip in his hair and tugging gently. He was the more tentative one of her partners. "Here? We're working."

A singular jolt of a laugh rumbled from his chest. "Why not?" He tilted her chin back with one hand and leaned in to brush his lips against hers, but before he could reach her, the sound of movement behind the door interrupted them. Quickly, the two separated from one another, with Kotetsu hissing curses as he clumsily stumbled a professional distance away and Sakura smoothing out her top, just as the door opened, revealing a less than pleased Ino.

"There you are!" She huffed, shutting the door behind her. She opened her mouth to say something more, but her jaw snapped shut and her lips curled slyly upon seeing the flustered Kotetsu smoothing out his hair. "Oh. I'm not interrupting, am I? Because I can come back later."

"No," Kotetsu grunted, dragging the box back into his arms. "I was just leaving." He spared one last meaningful glance at Sakura, then fled the room as casually as he could with little more than an acknowledging nod to the blonde. The fact that he avoided making eye contact, was not lost on the Interrogation trainee.

Once the door shut, Ino rounded on Sakura, both brows raised, and chuckling in a way that told Sakura she wouldn't be able to escape the room. "Oh-ho-ho! Forehead!" She crowed. "Were you seriously about to get it on with Kotetsu in your office? I would've never thought you were into that!"

Sakura made a noise of displeasure and rubbed at her still sore shoulder, ignoring Ino's comment in favor of trying to figure out why she looked so upset when she first walked in. She didn't remember scheduling a lunch date or anything, but it has been a pretty hectic past few weeks so it wouldn't surprise her if she did. The blonde crossed the room in just a few graceful strides with a plastic bag dangling from the crook of her elbow, the scent of fresh meat wafting around the room just as quickly. She set the bag on the desk with pleased hum and dropped down into one of the chairs while Sakura cleared some more space for them.

"Anyway, sorry for interrupting your dick appointment." This earned an unladylike snort from the pinkette. "I was wondering where you've been! I haven't seen you in weeks, Sakura!" Ino admonished as she removed the contents of the bag. "I was getting worried about you."

"Ino, we work together," Sakura mirthfully pointed out, but genuinely touched by her friend's concern. "I saw you yesterday."

"Yeah, but we were with patients. I haven't seen you, as in had a conversation or hung out with you in forever," Ino returned. She began unraveling the takeout boxes while Sakura started to load both of their plates. "I was wondering if you've been eating." In response, Sakura gestured to the tempura that was abandoned at the corner of her desk, the black plastic container easily announcing where it came from. Ino clicked her tongue. "Cafeteria food? Seriously?"

Handing Ino her plate, Sakura groaned miserably. "I was kind of rushed out early today, Pig. I didn't have time to pack anything, not even a spare outfit, and I forgot my wallet at home."

"Ah the emergency case this morning right?" Ino asked. The two paused to snap their chopsticks and murmur a quick "itadakimasu!" before digging into their meal. "I heard it was bad," She said once she swallowed her mouthful of food.

"Yeah. Extracting the poison was exhausting. It kept trying to stick to my chakra," Sakura answered between helpings of beef. "I've never seen anything like it."

"And it was from Kiri?"

"That's where they came from," Sakura affirmed.

"Poison isn't their usual M. O." It was hard to take Ino seriously when she kept pausing to smile at her food before biting almost lovingly into it.

"I know. This has Suna written all over it, but I know Gaara would never betray our trust like that. So it has to someone rogue trying to pit us against each other."

If the Yamanaka heiress was perturbed by this information, she didn't let on. She just hummed and continued on with her meal, but Sakura knew their conversation was far from over. Ino wasn't the type to stay silent for long, even if she was eating. Knowing her best friend, she was just trying to figure out how to word whatever was on her mind. And Sakura was willing to bet she knew what she wanted to talk about. Sure enough, she only went through two more strips of yakitori before her powder blue eyes were illuminated with mischief.

"So when are you gonna tell me about what's going with you lately? I haven't seen you in week and all I hear from everyone is how grouchy you've been." Ino wrinkled her nose and scrunched her eyebrows, her lips twisting unattractively. "The nurses say you're on a war path."

Rolling her eyes, Sakura took her sweet time chewing her food as she thought about her response. "I'm just stressed out, Ino, no big deal."

The sly grin returned to Ino's expression, and the blonde rolled her shoulders suggestively, prompting Sakura to wonder how she could flit around topics and faces so quickly. "Is that why Kotetsu was here? He was helping you relieve some stress?" Ino teased, then she cackled wholeheartedly at the fluster that turned her friend's face into a furnace. "Oh my God! He was!"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sakura sighed. "Ino! We didn't do anything. And we weren't going to. I wasn't feeling it."

Washing down her food with a large sip of water, Ino slanted her head in curiosity. "Oh? Why not?"

Hesitance made Sakura focus on her lunch a little too intently as she considered her words. If she were being completely honest, she wasn't sure why. Not once in the past three weeks had she thought of reaching out to either Genma nor Kiba, and as much as she had enjoyed and appreciated Kotetsu's efforts in cheering her up, the tingly sparks of electricity below her navel was dull in comparison to—

Sakura stiffened and a telltale heat clawed mockingly up her spine, clamping around the back of her neck the way a predator would its prey. Without her permission, memories of gloved hands dancing across her skin, of an aroused girth straining against her thighs—of the scandalous picture the reflection of her and Okami-taichou painted—flooded her mind's eye. Had it really been that long since their near-romp in T&I? Since he had said those dirty, filthy, tantalizing things to her?

Actually, now that she thought about it, she hadn't even seen either hide nor tail of the Anbu Captain since that day. Things had been so crazy lately, what with the influx of hospital emergencies and the shortage of staff, that she hadn't noticed. But now that she did, she couldn't help but feel more than a little piqued. Things were up in the air between them, their mutual attraction (or at least, sexual attraction) beyond obvious, and he had made one hell of a promise to her, even if it was made in the heat of passion.

Just remembering the things he said to her—"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're going to feel me inside of you for days."—made her bring her knees closer together in an attempt at abating the pressure that began to mount. But she couldn't tell Ino about that. Anything that may or may not happen with Okami-taichou had to be strictly kept on the low. As much as she loved Ino, the blonde was known for being the hub for gossip, and while Sakura knew she wouldn't actively go around telling people about her sex life, enough alcohol could put her (and Okami-san's position) at risk.

Mentally shaking away her thoughts, Sakura finally found the words to respond to Ino's question. "I'll tell you about it later, when we're not at work." She made sure to add a drop of finality to her tone, conveying without words all the things she wanted to say, but couldn't. She knew Ino, and she knew Ino understood when she exasperatedly turned her head away and pouted, her discomposed harrumph acting as her acceptance. But she didn't say anything else about it, thankfully.

In fact, Ino didn't say anything for a while. And then—

"So just out of curiosity, seeing as how you're, ahem, involved with them," Sakura spared a wary glance at Ino, who was beginning to twirl the end of her ponytail around her fingers, a faux innocent smile touching upon her lips. "Do Kotetsu and Izumo really do everything together?"

"Pig!"

Kamen

If Sakura thought her day could get any worse, she was thankfully, mistaken.

It didn't get better, per say, but it certainly didn't get worse. After her lunch with Ino, in which the blonde spent the rest of it trying to yank out all the nitty-gritty details of her "surprising" sex life, things seemed to have calmed down at the hospital. She didn't have to see any patients or handle any other emergency admissions, so she got to read over the folders Kotetsu had dropped off as well as finish up signing documents regarding the hospital's budget. And because she came in early, she was able to leave early, once a few extra medics came in to cover the floor for her.

That was as good as it got. To negate all the positives, she spent the past four hours in the Hokage's office, helping her Shishou go over mission reports and building requests—without sake. Shizune had been thorough in her sweep today, it seemed, and both Kotetsu and Izumo, who were the most likely to pluck a few bottles from the market for them, had been relieved of their duties earlier, meaning they'd have to go dry today. A shame. After the week she had, Sakura felt she deserved it.

And now here she was, escorting Sasuke to the Police Headquarters to carry out her last task of the day, with Naruto chattering animatedly at her side.

Well, perhaps chattering wasn't the right word. Antagonizing probably fit better. He was antagonizing Sasuke, as per usual, about which nature was superior: Fire or Wind. Personally, she thought Water was, since it was much harder to perform water based techniques without a physical body of water, and therefore required much more skill to perform, but she knew better than to get involved in their petty arguments by now. Plus, she was tired. And hungry. And sore.

She just wanted the day to end already.

"Okay, but Wind amplifies Fire," Naruto shot back, making fluid arm movements to exaggerate his buoyant speech. "That literally means Wind makes Fire stronger."

Sasuke, with his fingers drumming over his folded arms in an attempt at reigning in his annoyance, clicked his tongue. "I didn't realize you knew how to use the word "amplify" in a sentence," He said, meeting Sakura's rolling eyes with a smirk.

Naruto huffed at the insult, but was overtaken by a shit-eating grin almost immediately. "Teme, you only start insulting me when you know I'm right!"

He had a point.  Sort of.  Sasuke always insulted him, but in instances like this, it meant the closest thing to an admission.  But again, Sakura knew better than to call either of them out on this.  So she just chuckled and shook her head. "Naruto come on, don't get Sasuke all riled up before his shift," She scolded, albeit lightly.

"I'll stop when he admits I'm right!  About Wind Style and about being right!"

Sasuke opened his mouth to retort, only to snap his mouth shut and shove the two of them against the wall.  As soon as he did, a young man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, leaping off the wall adjacent to the corner, trying to jump over them. Sasuke's arm shot out and he managed to grasp the teen's ankle before he could clear their shoulders.  He yanked the teen down to the ground, causing a plume of dust to rise where he landed.  Before either Sakura or Naruto could say anything about the abrupt takedown, Sasuke grunted, "10-80" and made to grab the teen's wrists, but the guy threw his fist towards Sasuke's gut before he could.  The Uchiha jumped back, rising an arm up to guard the high kick that was then thrown at him, then using the same arm to shove the teen off balance.  The teen stared at the three of them contemplatively, his eyes anxiously flickering over his shoulder.

"You're under arrest," Sasuke informed. "Come quietly and—"  He didn't get the chance to finish as the adolescent lurched forward and aimed a jab at Sasuke's face. Sasuke's shoulders jerked back to avoid the strike, and he retaliated by thrusting his knee up into the kid's stomach, making the miscreant gasp for breath and stagger back.

"That seems a bit excessive, don't ya think, Sasuke?" Naruto mumbled, brow quirked, just to burst out in a fit of unfiltered laughter when the teen somehow managed to land a kick to Sasuke's jaw, sending the Uchiha stumbling back into Sakura's arms.

"Usuratonkachi!" Sasuke hissed, wiping at his cheek out of instinct.  Whether it was directed towards the still guffawing Naruto or to the troublesome teen, Sakura wasn't sure, but she knew one thing for certain: Sasuke was pissed.

Kamen

Fugaku-ojisan looked like he was ready to throw himself off of a cliff.

And that was saying a lot, considering the type of man that he was. Not that Shisui blamed him. He was close behind him, and it looked like Sasuke was also sharing the sentiment if the twitching of his bruised jaw was any indication of anything.

He loved his position at the Police Force, almost more so than his title in Anbu, but there were some things about the job he thought he could go without. Herding drunks at two in the morning was one, regardless of how amusing their intoxicated babbles could be. The never-ending stacks of paperwork was another. He hated desk duty. He'd rather be out patrolling the streets, stretching his legs for more than just walking from one room to another, feeling the sun on his skin. He liked being hands-on, chatting with villagers and proudly showing off his profession's insignia emblazoned on his armband, creating a good rapport for his clan.

And yet, here he was: hunkered down in a too uncomfortable chair and blocked in by a too small desk that was littered almost disastrously with folders and scattered paper, while an irate teenager was secured to the seat across from him. The kid had been caught lifting some cheap wares from a jewelry shop in the market and had been a pain in the ass to catch. Not only that, but he had the determination of a wet cat avoiding a hug, and tried to slip out of their custody every chance he could, even as they dragged him to the precinct by the scruff of his neck. He wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, because it would be downright embarrassing, but the teen had somehow managed to escape his coworker-slash-clanmate's watch twice since getting picked up; and that second time resulted in a half-hour long pursuit across the rooftops and down narrow back alleys. Thankfully Sasuke had his radio on, as he eventually ended up being the one to catch him, having been in the right place at the right time, but was rewarded with one hell of a kick to the face for his efforts.

And Shisui hadn't been part of any of it.

While all that fun was going on, he had been stuck at his desk reading over case reports and assisting his uncle in re-organizing the Records Room. As for why Fugaku-ojisan was upset, well, one of his patrolmen struggled with apprehending a teenager who couldn't have been much higher in skill than a Genin. And for some reason, Shisui was assigned the task of booking the sneaky kid, whose sarcasm was sharper than any blade in his pouch and more vexing than a petulant Sasuke. At least the fresh boot print on the younger Uchiha's face made up for it.

Leaning back into his seat, Shisui absently fondled the pendant draped around his neck, listening to the metal link sliding against the cord, while he fixed the coldest glare he could manage on the kid. "What's your name, kid?" He asked for the third time. "Just tell us so we can get this paperwork finished and get your parents to pick you up."

The teenager, a medium-tanned kid a little taller than him, with short cropped hair the color of sun-bleached wood and a hint of stubble along his chin, shifted in his seat with a displeased grunt. "Yura."

Shisui scribbled the name onto the form in front of him. "Yura what?"

Yura spread his knees and leant forward, his lips quirked into a smirk. "Yura bitch."

If not for his uncle standing beside him, Shisui would've reached over the untidy desk and belted his knuckles over the kid's skull, or maybe used his Sharingan. Instead, he emitted a slow, restrained exhale then brought his palms together with his fingers pressed against his lips, as if it would keep him from unleashing every curse he could think of. Hearing the faintest ghost of a snort, Shisui redirected his narrowed stare at his younger cousin, who looked more than a little pleased at the jab. To be fair, had the roles been reversed, he probably would've reacted the same way.

Beside him, Fugaku pinched at the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily in annoyance. "I advise that you cooperate, Yura. Theft is a serious offense, and you could be facing charges for fleeing and assaulting an officer. You're lucky the shop owner isn't pressing charges because of your age. As a shinobi, you could be permanently stripped of your rank."

"I didn't steal anything," Yura protested hotly. "My pockets were empty when your guys tackled me."

At that, Sasuke tsk'ed. "Yeah, because you ditched the necklace two blocks down. You forget that the Sharingan catches every little movement you make."

Yura huffed and curled his lip into a frustrated sneer. "Whatever. I didn't steal anything."

Seeing that this was going nowhere, Fugaku folded his arms across his chest and began walking away. "Shisui, just take his fingerprints and his picture, then put him in a holding cell," He instructed, without looking back. "Perhaps sitting in a cell for a few hours will make him reconsider his attitude." He threw out another order for Sasuke to start filling out his report of the incident, then disappeared into his office. Shisui stood from his seat and pulled Yura up by the crook of his elbow, then walked him towards the far left side of the room where the admittance station was.

Shisui rolled Yura's fingers in ink and pressed them on the otherwise blank record belonging to the kid. "One last chance, Yura," Shisui warned as he positioned the troublemaker against a navy blue backdrop. "If you don't give us a name, we can't release you to anyone. Are you really going to make your parents worry and come in on their own?" When Yura merely clicked his tongue in response, Shisui yanked the metal-plated beanie from his head and threw it onto the counter behind him, then moved out of the way so another officer could take their suspect's picture. After getting all the necessary angles, the Uchiha began steering his detainee in the direction of the bullpen, when he heard a vaguely familiar growl nearby.

"—I swear to God Sasuke, I'll break your jaw right now in front of everyone I don't give a fuck where we are!"

Shisui whirled around upon hearing the threat, his eyes quickly searching the room and finding a very unamused Sasuke and Sakura snarling at one another over the former's desk, while a sheepish looking Naruto watched on with a hand fussing with the back of his neck. Furrowing his brows, Shisui prayed to the Gods above for the strength to make it through the day, because he literally left Sasuke alone for five minutes and somehow, he ended up getting into a heated spat with his rose haired teammate—a teammate revered for having a temper and a punch worse than their very own Hokage.

A teammate who also happened to be holding a tanto and who happened to look beyond pissed. It was a welcome sight, for sure.

Seeing her, with her hands planted across the face of the desk, her nose scrunched up and her eyes alight with the embers of her wrath, matching the infamously harsh glare of an Uchiha with as much, if not more fervor, evoked a dangerous combination of sensations that shuddered between the blades of his shoulders.

Feeling the crackling tension seeping into his skin, Shisui quickly pushed Yura into the holding cell then made his way over to the trouble-making trio. "Naruto-kun, Sakura-san," He greeted, interrupting the crackling glare the duo shared. "What brings you here, today?" He wasn't dignified with a response from neither his cousin nor Sakura, who continued staring each other down as if he hadn't appeared, but Naruto was kind enough to grin and wave. Gesturing to the two seething shinobi, Shisui asked, "Is this something I should be worried about?"

Naruto snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Nah! They always get like this when Teme won't let Sakura-chan heal him.  Mikoto-obachan and Fugaku-ojisan gave her permission to smack Sasuke-teme around when he's being a dick." He hadn't realized the two were so close to his aunt and uncle.

"Sakura," Sasuke growled, his own eyes narrowing into a cold glare. "Quit being annoying."

Apparently the word meant something to her, because her glare dropped completely and Naruto's face twisted into an expression that Shisui could only describe as distantly sympathetic. The blonde took a few steps back with his hands raised in a surrendering gesture, then he began whistling nervously as he looked anywhere but at his arguing teammates. Shisui understood why when a moment later, the pink haired medic reached over the desk, batting away Sasuke's defending arms, and caught him by the back of his neck, then slammed his face into the desk. No one really glanced over in their direction, whether it was because they were used to the trio's antics or because they simply didn't want to be the next subject of Sakura's wrath, Shisui wasn't sure. But it certainly was amusing, considering they were in the police headquarters, of all places.

"I'm sorry Sasuke, I didn't quite hear what you said!" Sakura seethed, her smile developing a feral edge that shot anticipation straight down Shisui's waistband. She roughly pushed on the bruise that splattered across Sasuke's cheek, but the jade light that bloomed from her touch made up for it. "Why don't you repeat that!?"

Sasuke, likely finding some sense of self-preservation, grunted and shoved Sakura's hand away so he could stand to full height. He towered over her, chest heaving with his attempts at swallowing the frustration no doubt building within him. The bruise on his cheek was nowhere to be seen. "Thank you, Sakura, for being kind enough to heal me," He deadpanned, although the ire woven into his voice was clear. They didn't speak for a moment, both waiting for the other to break the silence, until Sakura loudly placed the tanto on top of the desk. Sasuke picked it up and unsheathed it, checking the steel of the blade for any blemishes, then fastened it to the holster on his back. "And thank you for finding my tanto," He added, just as dryly.

Sakura's smile sweetened, but retained it's sharp intent. "You're welcome Sasuke!  Make sure you keep better care of your things." The two maintained another moment of intense eye contact, before Sakura finally nodded and addressed Shisui. "Ah, hi Shisui-san, sorry for the disturbance.  And for not responding to you."

Smirking, Shisui crossed his arms over his chest. "Not a problem, Sakura-san.  You seemed to have had everything under control so I wasn't too worried." Then he canted his head to the right, working his jaw as he attempted to suppress the grin that began quirking his lips. "Although I know you didn't come all the way here just to beat up Sasuke-chan—" Said Uchiha whirled around to fix a glare on the two. "—so what can I do for you, today?"

She laughed although Shisui could hear the dryness of it, then showed him a short stack of manila folders from the top of Sasuke's desk. "Ah, yes.  I was sent by Morino-san to drop off some files.  Where do I go for that?"

He reoriented himself so he could read the note pinned to the front of the top folder.  It was directed to his uncle. "I can help you with that," He insisted, placing one hand on the small of her back while raising the other, gesturing for her to move forward.  He followed close behind, leading her towards his uncle's office, only absently aware of the way Sasuke and Naruto abruptly glanced at him, but also not really caring.

"Thank you."

Shisui waved a hand dismissively. "Its no problem. I don't mind if it means I get a moment to chat with a pretty lady."  As soon as the words left his mouth, Shisui's eyes flickered to the rosette, gauging her reaction.  She didn't seem particularly affected by the light compliment, as he expected she would, but her smile did lose it's harshness.  When she didn't say anything in response, Shisui continued, "Don't take this the wrong way, Sakura-san, but I'm surprised Morino-san sent you instead of Aoba."

"He's lucky I'm doing this for him at all!" She sneered, with the rolling of her eyes and the animated flinging of her empty hand. "He happened to catch me just as I was leaving the Hokage's Tower.  He overheard me and Naruto talking about escorting Sasuke here and just dropped them in my hands and walked off."

"I'm sure Morino-san is preparing baskets of flowers in offering as we speak," He chuckled, making Sakura snort unattractively before she could stifle it.

"There better be some hydrangeas in there, otherwise they're going in the trash," She joked.

"Hydrangeas?" They paused in front of the door to his uncle's office.

Sakura hummed in response and turned to face him completely. "In flower talk, it means "appreciation"," She explained. "They taught us kunoichi that back in the Academy."

She went on to tell him a story about a mission where she was forced to rely on flowers to communicate with her team, and Shisui listened to it in full, however he was admittedly distracted.  Alone in the secluded corridor, he wanted nothing more than to just pick her up and pin her against the wall, then and there.  Perhaps it was because the last time he had seen her, he had her bent over a stainless steel table, preening over his words and coming around his fingers, because his lungs—and his pants—suddenly felt a little tight. All he could think about were her heady, debauched moans—"Yes, Taichou!"—and how good she felt pressed flush against him—how delicious she tasted when he licked his fingers clean.

She had been so receptive to him when he had hardly done anything!

If that was how she responded to him just like that, he could only imagine how she'd react when he finally, finally fucked her.

A small part of him felt a little bad for leaving her the way he did. Had Shisui known his Anbu rotation was being switched so soon after their last exchange, he would've given her more than a few fingers to remember him by. But then again, it just meant all the teasing and edging and little moments between them would be worth it when he finally sunk his cock into her.

Fuck he wanted her so bad.

He'd been edging himself for weeks, replaying every moment of their last encounter when he laid in bed at night as it was recorded by his Sharingan.  He pretended his hands were her smaller, softer ones.  He imagined his fingers as her tongue, trailing along the length of him.  He heard his name on her lips, knotted up with curses and drawn out with lust.

He just had to wait a little bit longer.

Soon, he promised, smiling and waving goodbye as Sakura finally excused herself.  Soon.

Chapter Text

"Are you even listening to me, Sakura-chan?"

Sakura turned to her best friend and teammate, feigning a confused expression as she did. She swallowed the flank of pork that was in her mouth with a noncommittal hum. "Hmm? I'm sorry, Naruto, did you say something?"

She observed the series of humorous facial expressions that came to light at her nonchalance, her teeth sinking into the corner of her lips in an attempt at fighting off her grin as Naruto cycled through various degrees of disbelief and frustration in the span of just a few seconds. Finally, he caught the poorly suppressed smile and his expression settled on one of exasperation. "Sakura-chan, that's not funny! This is a serious conversation!" He huffed, playfully shoving at her shoulder.

Chuckling at the vein that popped out of the blond's brow, Sakura leant onto the counter so she could prop her head against the palm of her hand. "Right, right. Sorry." She laughed, waving her free hand dismissively. "You guys ate at Ichiraku and then...?"

Naruto made another face at that. His right cheek puffed up slightly, as if he were a little frustrated, and he sighed dramatically, but Sakura knew it was all just for show. "We were walking through the market and at first it was kinda awkward because Hinata wasn't really saying anything, so I was worried she wasn't into me—" That earned a rather unladylike snort from the rosette, "—but then I put my arm around her shoulder and she just fit there perfectly, ya'know?"

If not for the complete and utter joy that radiated out of Naruto's pores, Sakura would have rolled her eyes. It had only a little over ten years and a bit of intervention from a chagrined Ino for him to finally notice the not-so-subtle glances and the cute little offerings Hinata gave him, so as ridiculous and overly saccharine as this telling of their very long-overdue first date was, Sakura was genuinely ecstatic for both of her friends. She honestly couldn't think of another couple who deserved each other more, than them.

So she allowed a sincere smile to fit on her face, then placed her hand on the small of Naruto's back. "That's so sweet Naruto. Then what'd you guys do?"

A faraway gleam illuminated his eyes then, accentuated by the rosy tincture to the apples of his tanned cheeks and the nibbling of his lower lip. "We just...stayed like that. We walked all over the village like two times, talking about the most random things and she was just so beautiful. I didn't want to take her home. I just wanted to spend more time with her, ya'know?"

His tone fell soft, warm with the memories of the night; his gaze brought down to settle on his cooling soup and his lips curved up gently as he recalled his date with the Hyuuga Heiress. He looked down at the steam spilling from his bowl so intently, as if it was playing out a fond memory just for him, or as if it were telling him all the secrets of the universe and then some. It was a look that Sakura recognized all too well. She saw it on Shikamaru's face whenever he was lost so deep in thought, he couldn't hear his name in a conversation, but could hear Temari's; and on Tenten's face whenever Neji walked into the room. Hell, she used to see that face reflecting from her mirror whenever she thought of Sasuke all those years ago.

"I'm really happy for you," Sakura softly cooed, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis. "You guys are good for each other."

Naruto's eyes flickered down to his half-finished bowl then to Sakura, their cerulean hue polished with what could only be described as uncertainty. "You think so?"

This time, she did roll her eyes. "Naruto, I can't imagine anyone but Hinata putting up with you the way she does." Her expression softened then. "You bring out the courage in her, pull her out of her shell. I can see it when ever we all hang out. We all can—Ino, Sasuke, even your parents. And I can see how happy you are just thinking about her even now. Don't ever doubt that you guys were made for each other, otherwise I'll kick your ass for being so stupid." Silence befell them for a moment after that, in which Naruto smiled softly and returned to his ramen, conveying his appreciation and happiness without words.

And she meant everything that she said. No one deserved Hinata more than Naruto, and no one deserved Naruto more than Hinata. Their personalities complimented each other nicely, reigning in one another's extremes and accentuating each other's weaker traits. As cliche as it was, they completed one another.

Taking the pause for what it was, Sakura returned to her meal as well and moved on from the subject. "So how's your training going?"

At the mentioning, Naruto rushed to slurp and swallow the mouthful of noodles that dangled from his lips. "Its going great! I can use Hiraishin to jump halfway across the village now! Dad says I should be able to make the jump all the way across it after a couple more sessions!"

"That's amazing!" She praised. "Imagine how that'll affect our teamwork once you master it."

"Right? With my Hiraishin and Teme's Shushin, we'll be the fastest team in Konoha!" Naruto enthusiastically thrusted his fist into the air and stood out of his seat, earning a wholehearted laugh from the medic. Then, as he sat back down, he threw a mischievous grin in her direction. "I wonder who'd win in a race."

Part of Sakura wanted to snort at the childish idea of the two zipping around the village, because of course the first thing that came to Naruto's mind at the mention of learning his father's famous teleportation technique, would be to challenge Sasuke to a race. Their childhood rivalry would never end, it seemed. The other part of her actually entertained the thought, drawing up a comical rendition of their would-be race in a way similar to Kakashi and Gai's many over-exaggerated contests, and she suddenly really wanted to see the outcome.

"Maybe we could do some drills at our next training session?" She suggested. "We need to figure out how to incorporate your techniques into our formations and battle strategies."

"Man you sounded just like Kakashi-sensei just then," Naruto teased, chuckling when she playfully pushed against his shoulder with her own.

"Well someone on the team has to use their brain," She retorted, her chin raised in faux indignance. "I mean, seriously—you know how Obito-senpai and Kakashi-sensei are essentially untouchable when they team up with Kamui? And how your dad and his team used kunai marked with his Hiraishin formula to clear whole battlefields? Think about what we could do with your techniques, how much easier it would be to take down enemies. We could cut battle times in half!"

Naruto, having polished off the rest of his bowl during Sakura's excited ramblings, rubbed at his comically protruding belly with a pleased sigh. "I forgot all about Obito-senpai and sensei's Kamui...do you think they'd wanna join in on the race?"

"What race?"

The two Jonin swiveled around in their seats to face their on-again-off-again teammate. Obito pushed aside the partition draped over the entrance and moved to stand beside Sakura, who scowled when he guided her hand to his mouth to steal the noodles suspended over her chopsticks. Reclaiming her commandeered chopsticks and jerking her head warningly at the older man, Sakura gruffly answered, "Naruto wants to see who's technique is faster: your Kamui, his Hiraishin or Sasuke's Shushin."

Obito snorted, his hand now guilelessly reaching for Sakura's glass of water next. "My Kamui, obviously," He replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Bakashi would be a close second, but he's nowhere near as fast as I am. Sasuke's Shushin is impressive and all but its nowhere near his cousin Shisui's level, and I doubt you can jump very far without using up a significant amount of chakra. There would be a delay period between teleports, while I can clear the whole village in one moment."

"But you also have a slower start," Sakura pointed out. "It takes you three seconds to fully submerge into your portal."

"One three second delay is better than two or three of them." Then Obito's lips mirrored the mischief in his lone eye. "You guys won't stand a chance against me."

Naruto guffawed at that, rudely pointing a finger at the older man while Sakura wrenched her drink out of the Uchiha's hand with an annoyed huff. "Oh yeah? Let's test that right now! Let's go, old man! You and me!"

Without breaking the lightning-inducing glaring contest that he and Sakura had somehow sparked, Obito grunted. "Sorry Gaki, no can do. You know I'm usually all for kicking your ass but Sakura-chan and I have got some training to do today." Then his nose scrunched up into a displeased grimace as he added, "And stop calling me old!"

"Training?" Naruto repeated, although his affronted tone had transitioned into something more like a whine. He turned to fix a displeased frown at the rosette, complete with slouched shoulders and a pout. "You always train with Sakura-chan. Teme and I have asked you like, a thousand times and you always say you're too busy!"

At that, Sakura straightened in her seat with a feline-like smirk curving her lips and her chin inclined smugly, while Obito disheveled the blonde's mess of hair with one hand. She wouldn't deny the fact that Obito did seem to favor her over the other men on the squad, nor did she really mind it. She was the only one who addressed him with any semblance of respect back in the day, and he was the only male on the team who didn't treat her like a fragile butterfly, so as infuriating the man could be at times, it just meant he saw her as an equal in some form or another. Besides, Kakashi had always had a soft spot for Sasuke while Naruto and Yamato had their own peculiar relationship; and Sai somehow seemed to have developed a surprising attachment to Rin, so it was only fair that she had her own big brother figure to steal all the attention of.

She called him "senpai" once, and they were hitched ever since.

"Yeah, well what can I say? Sakura-chan's always been my favorite," He taunted, reaching around said rosette to snatch a dumpling from her plate. Noticing the theft, Sakura lashed out at him, only for her fist to phase through his shoulder, much to her irritation.

"Stop taking my food!" She bristled, cursing his intangibility for what had to have been the millionth time in her life.

Obito chuckled at her as he bit into the gyoza, taunting her with an overly pleased hum. "Anyway," He continued once he swallowed the last of the dumpling. "Master your old man's technique first and maybe I'll humor you with a race."

"You're just scared I'm gonna win," Naruto mumbled, his impossibly blue eyes twinkling with intent. "But I get it. I'd be scared too, if I was facing off against the future Hokage."

Obito snorted at the taunt, and to Naruto's chagrin, so did Sakura.

"That's big talk for a runt who can barely make it halfway across the village! Plus I'm pretty sure there's a height limit to being Hokage. You've got to be at least this tall." The Uchiha gestured just above his own nose with a wide smirk that only grew when Naruto jumped to his feet, proving that he was a few inches below that point and making their rose haired teammate snicker behind her hand. Point proven, Obito clapped a hand against Naruto's shoulder in a show of good-nature while shooting Sakura with an impish wink. Noticing, Sakura hurried to take one last bite of her noodles and slipped out of her seat. Once she had slyly gathered her belongings, Obito sighed, "Anyway, we better get going. We've got a lot to cover, and you're kind of cramping my style. We'll have our race some other time. Say hello to your old man for me."

"Bye Naruto! Thanks for lunch!" Sakura grinned, her arms wrapping loosely around Naruto's neck shoulders in a sloppy rendition of a hug. She quickly dipped out of the small restaurant after her senpai, giggling as Naruto sputtered animatedly about the bill she left behind. She would have felt bad for sticking him with the tab, but she did leave more than half of her ramen for him to take over in exchange, so she quickly brushed aside her guilt and chased after the Uchiha with a skip in her step. Falling in step beside him, Sakura nudged Obito with her shoulder. "Thanks for training with me, Senpai! I know you're busy with work and all so I really appreciate it," She thanked, for what had to have been the fifth time since he agreed.

Tugging at the collar of his jacket in mock preening, Obito huffed, "Yeah, just don't go telling everyone. They'll start to think I'm going soft."

Sakura rolled her eyes at that. "I'd never ruin your reputation by letting everyone know that you, Konoha's Infamous Crybaby Uchiha Obito, are a big ol' softie." She squawked softly when Obito nudged at her a little rougher than she anticipated, nearly making her trip over herself in the process. "Jerk!"

"Hey, you better respect your next Hokage! I'll have the authority to send you on nothing but D-ranks for a year!" He sneered, then pulled her against his side affectionately, the knuckles of his free hand mussing her coral locks.

Kamen

"Are you even listening to me, Shisui?"

At the slightly exasperated sound of his name, Shisui let out a soft grunt in acknowledgment, but didn't immediately look up from the blade in his hands. He lifted the tanto to eye-level and turned it around in his hands, peering down the edge of the sword's out-curve and carefully tracing his thumb along its surface. He pressed gently, hardly applying any pressure at all, and was satisfied when he felt the blade slice into his skin. Mindful of the freshly sharpened blade, he carefully sunk the tanto back into it's sheath then reached for the katana beside his foot.

"Yeah, I'm listening," He finally affirmed after a moment, flint orbs flickering up to his cousin. "When are you leaving?"

Itachi plucked another piece of mochi from his skewer with his lips, taking his time to savor the flavor as its filling erupted with his bite before responding. "At dawn, tomorrow."

Shisui regarded Itachi equivocally, considering him for a long while before re-sheathing his katana and rising to his feet. "Spar?" He proffered a hand. Itachi accepted the hand without even a breath of delay, and with Shisui's assistance, rose to his feet as well.

While it wasn't exactly tradition, it was sort of an unspoken rule—or perhaps superstition was the correct term?—that the two would spar before either of them left for any solo assignments. Nothing serious, no jutsu, no weapons, just languid movements that could have passed for half-assed across the Uchiha training field that were meant to strengthen their guards. Just as they had done for the past, what, seventeen years? Neither were sure why they chose that as their sendoff ritual, but neither were willing to break their streak, so they always went along with it.

Although, Shisui secretly believed it was because it was the only way Itachi knew how to convey certain sentiments. He loved his uncle to death, really, and Fugaku-ojisama did eventually amend that ship, but their clan head had fucked up with Itachi down the line. They were just lucky he and Itachi had grown so close when they did, otherwise who knew what would have became of his precious cousin? He nearly shivered at the disastrous what if's.

The two quickly gathered the weapons that Shisui had busied himself with, as well as the bento box Mikoto-obachan had prepared for them, then lazily made their way to the Uchiha's private training grounds with light banter to warm them up. When they arrived at the training field, they weren't all that surprised to see a few clan members making use of it's space. It was a lovely day, after all, so the duo carefully maneuvered through the various sparring sessions, pausing every now and then to greet the familiar faces of their relatives, until they reached their usual space near the back of the field. It was far enough away from the rest of the field for them to have total privacy, with enough trees for them to work with and far enough away from the creek to avoid the younger Uchiha practicing their Katon, but close enough for them to waddle in if they needed a break.

"How long will you be away?" Shisui asked as he began easing into his usual stretches.

Itachi, who was beginning to roll out his shoulders, replied, "A month at most. However, I doubt it will take that long. Two weeks is more realistic."

Still, that was a long time for a solo mission. Anything more than a week was, technically, as anything longer than that meant more danger—meant missions with a low expectancy rate. And Itachi had just returned from a two week long mission with their Anbu squad a few days ago. It didn't sit right with Shisui, but he held his tongue. Itachi may have been stretching himself thin but he could handle it, so Shisui knew better than to worry.

"I'll watch over Sasuke," Shisui promised, just as he always did.

Itachi's smile was barely noticeable, as always, but conveyed his appreciation nonetheless. "Thank you."

"He's going to be a pain," Shisui sighed dejectedly, already tired at the prospect of an irate Uchiha. He pulled his left arm across his torso for a count. "He turns into quite the little shit whenever you're gone for too long, you know." A sound reminiscent of a snort escaped Itachi's lips at that, but he didn't reply. Shisui switched arms. "I'm serious, Itachi! He's a devil. Isn't he too old to be so moody?"

With his legs shoulder length apart, Itachi bent over to stretch his calves, hiding the smile that threatened his lips. "I don't mind him having the chance to be young. Look at where growing up too quickly led us."

"I suppose you're right."

Shisui shrugged his shoulders one final time while raising his fists, Itachi mirroring him a moment later. The elder of the two struck first, lashing out with a right-side jab that Itachi knocked aside, then pitched his left fist forward. When Itachi wove in and out of his combination, Shisui swung his extended arm back with the intention of striking his jaw with the pinky-side of his hand, but Itachi used both arms to guard against the attack, then aimed a kick at Shisui's thigh.

Shisui stumbled back a few steps, but remained standing. He paused to regard his cousin, wordlessly praising him for landing the first strike of the match, before adjusting his offensive stance into a defensive one. Taking the cue as it was, Itachi rushed forward; Shisui ducked his high jab, popping up in time to catch another whilst simultaneously driving his knuckles into Itachi's side and following up with a deck to the face.

Shisui furrowed his brows and backed off. "You're good?"

"Aa." Itachi tossed his neck to alleviate the pain that bloomed against his cheek, then raised his fists once again. "I won't let another slip by."

Kamen

Shisui pressed his back against the truck of the oak tree he hid behind, peeking along its side cautiously. After a moment, he allowed his lids to lower and let his head lean back against the trunk. He focused on the sounds of the woods, studying its natural soundtrack—the drilling of a pygmy woodpecker, the cooing of chickadees—memorizing each individual sound until he finally found something that didn't quite fit.

It seemed Itachi wasn't ready to come out to confront him just yet, but Shisui didn't mind the short breather. They had been at it for at least an hour now, having somehow shifted from open space into relatively shallow woodland not too long after they began, which wasn't too surprising, considering their spars almost always seemed to end up here. He waited another minute before abandoning his perch, dropping a few feet down onto another branch, then traveled deeper into the fold of trees. He used his Shushin to forge a trail towards the east, but went north. It wasn't very likely to deter his cousin for long, if at all, but it was worth a shot.

He allowed his mind to wander as he flittered from branch to branch, basking in the light caress of the wind on his cheeks, enjoying the brief moment of peace. It had been a while since he just ran without a reason or enemy shinobi at his heels. He almost forgot how therapeutic it could be.

A flash of pink blurred in his peripherals, making Shisui's eyes double back in surprise. He deftly shifted midair, fishing out a handful of wire-laced shuriken and pitched them at an upcoming branch. The shuriken wrapped around the branch a few times before finding purchase, allowing Shisui to use the wire to swing around the trunk of the tree, until the cleats of his sandals finally dug into its surface, then suspended from it. He scanned what he could of the forest below with brows knitted in concentration, before he finally used the wire to repel down to some lower branches. Balancing on his branch, Shisui carefully perched as close to the end as possible and pushed aside a cluster of leaves to get a better look at the ground.

Several feet below him, his cousin Obito was sitting crouched over the Hokage's apprentice, who was sprawled onto her back with one leg bent so her knee was to her chest. Her shirt was stripped off, leaving her in a black sports bra and her usual combat skirt-short combo while Obito had discarded his shirt as well—something he very rarely ever did, as it showed off all the scars along his torso. If not for the fact that Shisui could hear Obito explaining the base of his position to the panting rosette, he would have assumed he had stumbled into something far more intimate.

Just as he came to ascertain with the rosette's relationship with his aunt and uncle, he hadn't realized the two shinobi before him were that close. He knew Obito held some approximation of attachment for the members of Kakashi-senpai's abnormal team, and that Team Seven was an atypically close bunch even for today's standards, but to the extent of which, he hadn't ever really thought of.

Although they weren't very close, Shisui was well aware of Obito's story. He was seven years old, fresh out of the academy and already rushing to the front lines when Obito was sent to Kannabi Bridge and had his unfortunate accident. He remembered hearing his Okaachan talking about it with a few of his aunts, and had visited him in the hospital a handful of times. A lot of Uchiha were furious that he had gifted his Sharingan to the silver haired Hatake, so it was easy for their clanmates to shun him despite his great sacrifice. It took many years for Obito to recover from his injuries, and when he did, he mostly withdrew from active duty, taking up work at the Police Force, and remained a polite, arms-length away from the rest of the clan. Not that Shisui blamed him.

It wasn't until the Fifth Hokage took reign that Obito officially returned to active duty, and even that was sparingly. And once word spread amongst the Uchiha that he was being considered next in line for office, he was suddenly the heart of the clan. He welcomed the attention and partook in clan events again, and it was clear to the world Obito loved his clan, but it was also clear he was very hesitant around them. There was a wall between him and their clanmates, even with him and Itachi—a wall that out of all the Uchiha, only Sasuke seemed to have completely bypassed.

Considering this, Obito undoubtedly held Sakura in high regard and trusted her a great deal if he was willing to shed that metaphorical armor of his. It made him wonder now, fully and without any other distractions, just how much Sakura meant to his clan. Sasuke obviously adored his teammate in a way only Sasuke could, if the stories Shisui had heard of the young man fighting off ex boyfriends and overzealous admirers held a veneer of truth to them. As kind as Mikoto-obachan was, she had a ruthless side to her that honestly didn't take shit from anyone when it came to her family; while Fugaku-ojisan's attitude towards others didn't need an explanation. Yet the relationship she had with them was strong enough for them to allow her to "beat Sasuke up" when he acted out. And now, it seemed her lure had extended to Obito.

And himself.

Absently, Shisui wondered if Itachi regarded the kunoichi just as fondly.

Seeing as how Itachi hadn't confronted him yet, Shisui assumed he was either catching his breath as well, or coming up with some sort of strategy to catch him off guard, so he settled a little more comfortably in his perch. He watched with idle fascination as Sakura reversed her and Obito's positions, straddling him, before climbing to her feet and helping him up. Obito said something to her, but Shisui didn't care enough to actively read his lips, and then he gestured for Sakura to raise her fists. She danced on her heels, rocking back and forth for a moment, then drove her right fist down into his solar plexus. Before her knuckles reached him, Obito twisted his upper body away from her, while jerking both hands up, revealing the kusari-fundo he had hidden in his fist, and wrapped the chain around her wrist. He yanked upwards on the chain, pivoting on his heels so Sakura's front pressed against his back with her hand trapped over his shoulder, then bowed forward, throwing the medic over him and to the ground.

Seeing the kusari-fundo sparked a different type of amusement within Shisui's stomach. Obito was renown for his use of the somewhat outdated weapon, having used it in tandem with his Kamui to take down whole units of Kirigakure swordsmen on his own. Having very little to no skill in Kenjutsu and being a Taijutsu specialist meant he had a disadvantage against a sword, and the old school weapon remedied that pretty easily. It allowed him to catch sword blades without injury, tangle them up and tear them away from their owner's, and was just as useful in traditional hand-to-hand combat.

Recalling Sakura's already intimidating yet graceful fighting style, her incredible ability to demolish mountains, and that cocky, kittenish smirk she wore in the midst of battle—she was already a formidable opponent, that adding the five-foot long chain almost seemed unfair. But honestly, as seductive as her physical prowess was, the fact that she had acknowledged one of her major weaknesses and actively sought out a way to correct it, was probably even more attractive.

He would've never imagined getting hard over something so—hell, he couldn't even think of the correct term. Academic?

It seemed when it came to Haruno Sakura, he was discovering more and more things about not only her, but himself as well.

Chapter Text

"Took you long enough!"

Locking her door, Sakura rolled her eyes at Ino's exasperated huff. "As if you've never kept me waiting before!" The pinkette snapped, though not unkindly. After a final, cursory tug on her door to be sure it was secure, Sakura followed Ino down the steps of her apartment complex, then fell in step beside her as they reached the ground floor.

It was early in the morning, the sunlight rousing more vibrant colors from the world's sleepy monochrome, drawing out a blueish tint from the otherwise charcoal sky. Beyond a handful of shinobi and even less shop owners, the village wouldn't wake for a few more hours, leaving the two kunoichi in a peaceful silence—a silence that was perforated by the rantings of a chatty blonde. As her best friend, Sakura reamed as attentive to her as possible, nodding and throwing in a few disbelieving questions here and there, even though it was unnecessary. Even if she wasn't listening, Ino would've kept on.

"—and then she tells Ibiki I'm the one who mixed up the files!" Ino wrapped up. "Can you believe the nerve of that bitch? After I helped her with her with her report!"

Sakura shook her head with pursed lips. "That's ridiculous," She sympathized. "Did Ibiki believe you when you told him it wasn't you?"

Ino inclined her chin and crossed her arms, looking every bit of a brat as she could without stomping her feet. "No! He put her on the case! Said I needed to "be more careful" and "own up to my mistakes"! My mistakes—my ass!" Sakura sniggered at Ino's comically poor impression of Konoha's top interrogator, complete with a sour expression, the stiffening of her shoulders, and the crossing of her arms. Then she deflated almost comically. "I hate her. So much."

Sakura clapped Ino's back consolingly and made to respond, but quickly clamped her mouth shut when she noticed a figure leaning against a tree a few feet away. Seeing the black cloak and the snowy mask, the two women tensed, although Sakura was sure Ino's reasons were substantially different from her own. She glimpsed at her friend from the corner of her eye, the blonde having already done the same, before refocusing on the Anbu. A moment later, a second Anbu slunk out of the shadows of the alleyway beside them, while a third dropped down from the roofs, landing gracefully albeit purposefully in front of the two kunoichi, preventing them from moving further.

"Haruno-san," The Anbu in front of her greeted. The ferret-like features of his mask were familiar, which made Sakura visibly relax, even if just barely. Being approached by Anbu, regardless of the reason, was hardly ever good, after all, especially if it was a whole team.

"Nezumi-san," She replied, her voice just as polished as his. The officer didn't say anything else, but the command in his silence was more than loud enough for Sakura to understand. She turned to Ino, nodding dutifully. "I'll see you later, Ino." Ino nodded in return, to both Sakura and the Anbu operative, then continued her path to the hospital without another glance back. Once alone, the masked shinobi placed his hand on her shoulder, and then the telltale pull of teleportation upturned her stomach; when she blinked, they were standing before the Hokage and—Obito?

Tsunade's expression was tight, her lips almost a frown, and a crease formed between her brows; her senpai's face looked the same. It was clear to Sakura that whatever she was there for, was serious, if not because Tsunade's grim countenance, then because of the four Anbu kneeling beside her, out in the open. The Anbu that acted as the Hokage's secondary guard (well, and all Anbu in general) were always hidden unless otherwise ordered, meant to be imagined and not real, recognized only as a presence that made the hairs on the back of one's neck stand up.

Her observations of each mask was transitory, flickering from the rodent mask, to the fox mask, then to the unfamiliar green and white dog mask, and finally the wolf mask.

Absently, Sakura wondered if Okami was leering at her. If she focused enough, she swore she felt something, a tightly restrained intensity—and dare she say, anticipation—hidden in its weight, but it was so well concealed, she wasn't sure if it was just the threads of her imagination playing tricks on her. Still, she pictured him, whoever he was, grinning beneath his mask. The shadows on his face shifted, warping his porcelain grin into a sneer—a telltale sign that he was looking at her now. And that realization burned her all the way from the tip of her tongue and down her throat, until it settled pleasantly at the pit of her stomach, like a healthy shot of top shelf sake. The comparison made her lips quirk, but she quickly nibbled at the smallest bit of flesh as she could instead—disguised of course, by the movements of her hand brushing aside imaginary hair from her face.

Quickly stamping down on the stutter in her heartbeat and the embers below her navel, Sakura redirected her attention to her mentors. Bowing, she greeted, "Shishou. Senpai."

"Good morning Sakura," Tsunade began, while Obito tipped his chin in acknowledgment. Her timbre was overwhelmingly mordant and clear with sobriety. "I'm sorry for interrupting you so early into the day."

"It's not a problem," Sakura assured, matching her mentor's tone. "I was just on my way to the Hospital for my shift."

"That won't be necessary," Tsunade hummed, then reached into the drawer beside her knee to procure a scroll. Once she was sure the scroll she had was the correct one, Tsunade tossed it to her apprentice while saying, "I'm sending you on a solo mission to Shion village."

As soon as the scroll was in her hands, Sakura examined it. The hashira was a chalky brown color, with a bronze rod with tear-drop ends, and the cord that sealed it was a disgustingly vibrant red—a missive from the Tsuchikage himself. In well-practiced calligraphy that could only belong to someone with the Tsuchikage's age, were details of injury: fractured ribs, a possible concussion, remnants of a poison that she wasn't too worried about if not for the laceration that may have reached the liver, and several burns across the arms and torso.

While Sakura read over the finer details of the scroll, Tsunade nodded to Obito, who went on to verbally debrief the rest of the assignment. "This mission is of the highest priority, Sakura. The Tsuchikage's apprentice was attacked by rogue ninja while traveling from Sumire, and without medical assistance, he'll die." She looked up sharply at that, already understanding what was expected of her. Obito gave her an encouraging nod as he could not smile, although Sakura could see the beginnings of it tearing through. She made a mental note to demand answers from him when she returned.

"Forgive me for asking, but why is the Tsuchikage asking us for assistance now, considering the state of our relations?" Sakura inquired, slowly, carefully. "He never comes to us for anything."

"That's precisely why we're going to help," Tsunade answered, her tone insisting it was the simplest thing in the world. "Oonoki is too stubborn and deep rooted in his ways, so for him to ask for our help, means he's desperate. Not that I don't understand why; if you or Shizune were in that predicament, I'd swallow my pride and request his assistance, too. Especially since his apprentice was attacked by a rogue from Konoha." Then the busty blonde turned her head away and clicked her tongue, taking on a more annoyed expression while Obito let out a nearly inaudible sigh. "And I owe him a favor," She grumbled under her breath.

Had the situation been a little less grave, Sakura would've scolded her mentor. At her position, she shouldn't owe anyone, especially opposing rulers, any sort of favors; and she could only imagine how this agreement came to pass. But then again, this wasn't the first time she's ever been sent for a personal favor, nor did Sakura think it'd be the last. On the upside, sending her to heal the Tsuchikage's apprentice would bode well for future relations, so perhaps her mistress's poor decision held some merit?

As if sensing Sakura's ire, Obito quickly amended, "Your assistance in this will help relations between our villages, Sakura. By saving his apprentice and creating a good rapport with him, the Tsuchikage will have no choice but to publicly acknowledge his appreciation."

That seemed to be a bit of a stretch, but Sakura wasn't about to call either of her seniors out on that. So instead of berating her village head, she sucked in her frustrated sigh then set the scroll back on Tsunade's desk. "I understand," She announced. "I'll leave immediately."

"Good. Because of the sensitive nature of this assignment, Okami-Han will escort you," Obito informed, gesturing to the still bowing Anbu operatives on either side of him. "While this mission is all yours, they're under strict orders to ensure the safety of not only you, but Oonoki's apprentice, so Okami will be in command of this operation. He'll have equal say in decisions as you do. Once you've stablized the apprentice, Okami-Han will break into their own assignment, after which you'll return as a unit. And I'm sure I don't need to explicitly stress the underlying nature of your assignment, right Sakura?"

"No, sir!"

Tsunade reached for the scroll and returned it to the drawer, a small but pleased smile making her lips twitch, while Obito finally allowed the faintest hint of one to break through his mask. "Good. You're dismissed."

Sakura gave one last bow to the Hokage, then turned her attention to the four Anbu in the room, mindful to ignore Okami's mask completely. "I'm going to change and grab my travel pack from home, then I'll meet you at the gates in half an hour." They didn't respond, but she knew they heard her, so she swiftly turned on her heel and left the room. Once out in the hallway, she leapt from a nearby window, moving from rooftop to rooftop, mentally listing every item she would need for her trip. Tsunade hadn't specified a return date, which meant she and Okami would have to discuss how thorough they'll need to be regarding her healing session, and that she'd have to estimate just how many essentials she'll need to bring.

Okami-taichou...

With no one around her but a few birds and the wind, Sakura allowed her heart to run wild with its excitement. It had been over two months since her steamy encounter with the elusive Anbu Captain, and she hadn't seen even a glimpse of him since then. They hadn't crossed paths in the hospital or the Intelligence Division; he hadn't been sent to relay any messages—he hadn't even been put on Tsunade's guard rotation. The first month without his inimitably compelling presence had been easy, all things considered. Between all the emergency cases at the hospital and all the extra training sessions and the missions she'd taken up with her team, she had been preoccupied. She honestly hadn't even noticed how much time had passed until that conversation she had with Ino in her office, but after that, it seemed as if every passing day nibbled away at her patience as she almost waited for him to show up.

In all honesty, part of her her wondered if he had left for a mission and never came back which, while depressing, wasn't uncommon when it came to the elite group. It was part of the reason why Sakura rarely ever saw a mask more than once. Another part upbraided herself for even bothering to care, because as much as it—no, she wouldn't say hurt—to think about it, he held no obligation to her. He didn't owe her anything.

Well, anything but that promise he had made while in the throes of whatever it was they had.

So no. She wasn't upset.

She wasn't hurt.

She wasn't worried.

But she was frustrated, and maybe more than a little bit relieved to see him alive and kicking. It was a shame they'd be working together, though, because seeing him back in Tsunade's office had done things to her—wicked, unfair things. Seeing that porcelain simper only brought back evocations that Sakura only allowed herself to divulge in during the heat of the night, when there was no one but her hands to distract her. Part of her admonished herself for being so affected, because he was just another man under all that armor, the same way that Genma and Kiba, and Kotetsu and Izumo were under theirs. But there was something very, very different between them and Okami:

She knew who they were.

With Genma and Kiba, she knew they were in the Corps.; had already seen both of them in uniform sans the mask (or in Genma's case, had seen his armor in his apartment), so if they had decided to play around while dressed in their fatigues, there was no harm done. With Kotetsu, he was still highly revered by his comrades and trusted by the Hokage, and therefore had his own set of restrictions, but nothing as strict as an order of anonymity.

Whereas with the enigmatic Anbu Captain, Sakura had no idea who hid behind the polish. No name, no face, just the color of his eyes, and even then Sakura wasn't sure if they were real because who had such intense, caliginous eyes like that? Realistically? Other than a handful of Uchiha, no one. She liked the secrecy, the mystery—the tension. It made her feel powerful, desired. And he made her feel so, so good without even doing anything. If he could do all that with just his praise and fingers, then what else could he do once the rest of his armor had been stripped away?

A nearly mirthless chuckle ruptured from Sakura's throat as she thought about the situation. She would have never thought that she would have been so keen at the aspect of something so inherently scandalous, let alone partaking in it so reverently. Had this been a few years ago, she would've floundered and blushed and maybe even reported the masked shinobi for misconduct. She blamed Genma for this. Ino and Naruto and Kakashi, too, because their combined deviance must have rubbed off on her somewhere.

But then again, she never expected someone like Okami to be so interested, either. There were far too many complications and concerns to account for when it came to things like this—their titles, his identity, her reputation—so it would have been too much of a hassle to even think about pursuing.

And yet, he was the one who started this tryst.

Sakura may have enjoyed looking, and God did she enjoy looking, but he was the one who made the first move. He was the one who approached her, who asked her for the spar that started it all. He apparently had his own fantasies, if his blatant intrigue in her strength was anything to go by, and he clearly knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He admitted as much on more than one occasion.

"I'm not one to mind a good show."

"I've always been one to appreciate the abilities of others."

"I would've never though I'd catch the eye of Anbu."

"Just this Anbu."

But did she?

...nope. Absolutely not.

But Okami seemed more than content in teaching her, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

Arriving at her apartment, Sakura quickly brushed her thoughts away and ran inside. She had to hurry and get everything in order because she knew she only had a few minutes before Okami would appear, and once he did, she wouldn't have much time to do anything else.

Kamen

Shisui knew Haruno was aware of his presence.

He would bet this mission's pay that she noticed him the moment he entered her apartment. He heard her rummaging around in her bedroom, changing her clothes if the sound of fabric falling was any indication, and it took a little more restraint than he'd ever care to admit, to keep from slinking in as she dressed. Knowing what he knew about her now, she was expecting it—anticipating it maybe. So out of mock spite, he stood sentinel, almost awkwardly so, in the center of her living room.

Somehow, her apartment was both everything and nothing like he expected it to be.

Gray, white and green were prevalent tones across the room, opening up the otherwise small space and pairing nicely with the light hardwood flooring. There were plants hanging from the corners of her ceiling, and potted in tiny white ceramic on shelves that spanned an entire wall. He recognized some herbs, but he the lavender and orchids stood out attractively against the greenery. She had a few bookshelves lined up against the eastern wall, filled with colorful spines and stocked with scrolls, adorned with little knick-knacks. Picture frames were neatly collaged along the walls leading into the hallway, painstakingly arranged and glimmering proudly in the light that filtered through the mint curtains. As expected, it was very clean and modern in appearance.

However, in contrast to that, various shoes were haphazardly abandoned both on and off a rack beside the entrance, all shinobi compatible, but in different styles and heel length, designed for different terrain and purposes. A pile of weapons pouches were collected beside the coffee table, which was overtaken with unraveled scrolls and medical textbooks, while some weapons were organized almost methodically all around it, grouped by type and by size. A charcoal blanket was neatly folded and draped over the back of the light green couch beside an orange one, which edges weren't matched up, and four travel bags were tucked under the table.

All in all, the apartment screamed: a little bit of chaos, a little bit of OCD. It perfectly encompassed the essence of Haruno Sakura.

The most peculiar thing stood out to him, however: a sword displayed above the hallway entrance. There were many weapons littered around her place, but none purposely put on display like that, and no other swords. It made him wonder about the base of its importance. He didn't get to ponder on it long, because Haruno's soft footsteps reached his ears.

"Okami-taichou," She acknowledged, moving around him to pluck the dark gray sling-bag from its place under the table. It was still packed from her last mission, apparently. Or perhaps, it was always ready to go? She seemed the type to be overly prepared for everything.

"Jonin Haruno."

Shisui watched as the rosette entered her kitchen. She had exchanged the navy blue skirt and the red and yellow top she was wearing, for her usual combat-ready attire with the addition of a forest green travel cloak. A shame, really. He rather liked that skirt on her.

"Did you need something?" She asked, while removing what he assumed was a storage scroll from a drawer beside her stove, which somehow didn't surprise him. Her tone isn't quite stiff, but he's heard her polished, professional tone enough times to recognize it when she used it.

Shisui could tell by the stiffness in her breathing that she was listening for his footsteps, feeling for the faint vibrations they would create, but with his Shushin, she wouldn't feel a thing until he's already pressed up against her. Yet, when he planted his hands on the counter, on either side of her, she didn't so much as flinch. She just continued to seal a handful of MRE's into the scroll as if he wasn't there, but he knew the cinders of her excitement were beginning to light.

This little act of hers, pretending she wasn't at all affected by the feel of his chest plate against her back, was (like many things with her) far more attractive than it should have been. It made him want to press against her until there was no such thing as space between them, and grind his hips against her until she felt the consequences of her actions; and it had been so long since he'd seen that fire in her eyes, that he wasn't afraid to admit he missed it.

But he resisted the urge. He was working, after all.

"I just wanted to remind you of my expectations, seeing as how we'll be spending some time together during these next few days," Shisui replied, the faintest snippets of his personality seeping into words. "You know how I feel about disobedience." It was more warning than mirth, but he'd let her take it how she wanted.

Haruno hummed, still not actively acknowledging him, but Shisui was quite to take note of her stiffening shoulders. "Of course. I'll be on my best behavior," Then she paused, adding as an afterthought, "Taichou."

Shisui's fingers twitched against the countertop, begging to bear purchase in her shoulders, her hips—her. "Careful," He advised in mock annoyance, tilting his head back. "That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble. I'd hate to have to punish you for insubordination."

Haruno turned around to pin him with the most defiant look he'd ever seen on a woman. Beryl perforated obsidian, steady, fearless, alight with a flicker of irritation but otherwise impish. He recognized the challenge in her gaze immediately, and fuck was it a good look on her. She folded her arms over her chest, creating a wall between them, and cocked a hip, looking very much like the brat that she was, much to his amusement. Then slowly, her hand drifted from its perch on the counter, the tips of her fingers dragging along the front of his chest plate with intent, so agonizingly slow that his muscles spasmed with arousal.

"If I didn't know any better, Taichou, I'd assume you have a thing for me."

Before Shisui could stop himself, a bark of a laugh tore itself from his throat. She had said that last time they met, acting just as cocky now as she did then, if not more so.

"And if I didn't know any better, Brat, I'd assume you want me to punish you." Encircling Haruno's wrist with his slender fingers, Shisui pressed her hand firmly against his chest, daring her to make the next move. The tip of her tongue appeared, licking at the seam of her lips so quickly, he almost hadn't noticed. He mirrored her without a second thought, only with the addition of his teeth as he swallowed his growl. "Am I really going to have to remind you who you're talking to, Haruno?"

"And who exactly am I talking to?"

The allusion in her words wasn't lost to him. Frankly, he was surprised the question hadn't come sooner. Haruno wasn't known for her patience after all, and after the way he had been winding her up these past few months, Shisui knew she was toeing disastrously close to the edge of her forbearance. Still, the brazenness of her inquiry confound him. He had seen her back in the Hokage's office, gazing at him with those vibrant, lusty eyes and licking her lips. She hid it well, but not well enough. He wasn't above admitting that his pants fit a little tighter knowing she was so affected by his presence even after all this time.

Who would've thought that cute little Jonin Haruno was so bold?

Shisui grinned beneath his mask when she shifted in his captivity, inching closer to him and then coming close to a pout when he added more distance between them. Oh, he missed this bratty side of her! With a little more bite in his intonation, he growled, "I'm your captain, Jonin Haruno."

If she was unsatisfied by his answer, Shisui couldn't tell, but he highly doubted she was. She bit at the edge of a smile, the action making him groan inwardly as he risked a glance at her eyes; they were positively glowing with too many things for him to name. How depraved was he, that such a diminutive, inconsequential gesture could make his muscles tighten?

She smirked something fearsome, and the potent hunger in it coaxed his own grin. She leant back against the counter, chin canted in that cocky way of hers and purred, "Good."

And then he felt the ghost of a whisper against his chest, making his lungs—and pants—tighten. Within seconds, the minty touch warmed into something more, something tangible enough to make him to shudder and expel a broken breath. Her chakra pulsated like an animated being, reaching down, down, down towards his navel and lacing with the arousal that had begun to roar to life within him. Shisui head tilted back, his eyes closed and his lips curled back in a silent snarl.

"Is that all you wanted, Taichou?"

He clicked his tongue, pleased by the kittenish lilt that continued to reflect in her eyes. She was just full of surprises, wasn't she? It was interesting, seeing the many contradictions in her personality as both himself, and as Okami, as she displayed a completely different side of herself depending on which version of himself was around. As Shisui, Jonnin of Konoha, she was polite, hotheaded but never towards him, and refined—cute. But with his mask in place, she was fiery, and sly and selfish and fuck was it sexy.

The way Haruno acted with him as Okami reminded him of the version of her he adored the most: the wildfire that overtook acres of battlefield.

That was the Haruno he wanted most. And the closest thing he would ever see without risking his health, was like this, so he'd take it.

Shisui moved so suddenly, pushing his hips flush against hers and roughly backing her against the counter, his fingers entangled in her hair. He tugged on them with a fraction of the fervor she deserved, biting back his grunt when she gripped the straps of his armor with bloodless knuckles and made her chakra undulate within him. It was more than heat he felt this time. It was fire and want and chaos and reached all the way down to his toes, tangled in his hair, and it shook him to his very core. Oh, how he wished he didn't have to wear his mask! He wanted to leave angry marks all over her neck, her chest, her shoulders, just to look at them and please his ego because that's what she deserved.

He wanted her then and there—mission be damned!

Against the counter, the wall, the floor, he didn't give a fuck; he just wanted her now.

He wanted to push her down on her knees, wanted to feel that troublesome mouth around his cock, see those eyes peering up at him, do all the things he promised he would. And he genuinely considered it. Shisui didn't doubt she would have done it, either, seeing as how her fingers had slid down his metal plating and hooked around the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping inside, but caressing his hips.

But he was working. Their time was running out.

So Shisui pulled her hands away from his waist and trapped them against the counter beneath his own. Once he was sure Haruno wasn't going to move, he slipped one hand under his waistband and gripped his member with a restrained shiver. He ran his hand up and down a few times, moving lazily, not so much for the relief, but for the build up, gazing at Haruno with fervor as she watched him with eyes so dark with arousal they could have rivaled his own. As he stroked himself, Shisui leant against her completely.

"I want you to remember what I said last time, Haruno," He growled, lowly, dangerously. "I want you to think about everything I said I was going to do to you—how I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll feel my cock in you for days after." He twisted his wrist, ran his thumb along the wet tip of his hardening shaft, the smooth leather of his glove making his breathing hitch as he removed his hand. Shisui reached for her face without warning, his slicked thumb pushing against her lips until they parted for him, and he watched with desire-dampened eyes as her tongue purposefully licked at the proffered digit. "I want you to remember how I taste," He continued, his eyes narrowing as Haruno gently trapped his finger with her teeth, "Because the moment this mission is over, I intend to make good on that promise, Sakura."

Chapter Text

Shion was a good sized village located right on the border of Tsuchi no Kuni and Hi no Kuni, acting as mutual territory for shinobi on both sides of the border. It bustled with stalls offering all kinds of goods from both countries, like herbal teas from Fire and rock mochi from Earth, and had a steady influx of visitors, so the settlement was considered pretty well off for its size. Sakura had only ever been there once with Sai and Yamato a few months previous; she fell in love with the muted neons that contrasted with the earthy browns, and the different accents and thick aroma of foods she'd never tried before. So it was suffice to say she was excited to return, even if the circumstances weren't exactly ideal.

It only took four and a half days to reach the outskirts of Shion, in which she rarely saw any of her escorts.

They traveled independently from one another; Sakura followed the footpath and leapt through low branches, while Okami-Han kept to the higher, shadowy canopies. One officer, the canine one, was positioned one-hundred and fifty feet ahead and forty-five degrees to the left. Nezumi, the ferret-masked one, was eighty-five feet to her immediate right while Kitsune was positioned two-hundred feet behind her at her eight. Their Captain, Okami, kept up the rear two-hundred feet back at her five.

They had radios to communicate with her but they hardly ever used it beyond break announcements, opting to speak to one another through coded bird calls and high pitched whistles. At night, Sakura slept undisturbed while her escorts rotated shifts, each taking comfort on thick branches. During breaks they reconvened to discuss travel conditions and to check over injuries caused from minor scuffles that she hadn't had the chance to see. During this time, she handed out some of the MRE's she had packed; they initially refused the meals, but after a brief, electrically charged stare-down between Okami and herself, they took her offerings with polite murmurs of thanks and went off to eat their rations in privacy.

She had traveled with Anbu in variations of this system at least a dozen times in her life, each squad having their own preferred formations and travel methods, but it still amazed her. To think how much they had to trust one another and their abilities, the way they communicated, their teamwork—it was incredible. As much as Sakura liked to believe Team Seven's teamwork was well-oiled, her team had nothing on those in the Corps.

So if not for those small tells of their presence—the bird calls, the prickling in the back of her neck, the dancing shadows—Sakura would have forgotten about their presence completely. Not that she minded. It gave her time to compose herself, push aside thoughts that had no place on missions—act professional. The first day of their journey had been somewhat difficult after her debriefing with Okami. Outwardly, she remained as professional as possible, discussing their travel route and positions and action protocol. This wasn't her first time on a mission with someone she had been intimate with, so she knew how to block out the voice in the back of her mind that demanded she glance at him. But that didn't mean she was completely unaffected.

She wasn't so proud as to deny that his little parting gift was a major turn on. And honestly, Sakura didn't doubt that the site of him pleasuring himself to her would be ingrained into her memory for years to come. It was mostly during her break times that she'd remember the feel of his muscled body against hers, the sound of his deep, almost animalistic growl in her ear—the taste of him on the tip of her tongue.

She had never been with someone so bold as to rile not only her but himself up immediately before such an important assignment. Not even Genma was so venturesome, and the senbon-favoring Tokujo was easily the most lascivious man she had ever been with! He might've played with her a day before, maybe a few hours beforehand if he was feeling especially daring, but he'd always make sure they were both completely sated. Not wound up, tense like the string of a bow.

It made her wish they had saved a stray bandit for her to deal with.

But all that aside, the journey to Shion was was relatively smooth. No major confrontations, no serious injuries, near idyllic weather.

Until now.

She stood as still as possible, chin tilted up and body so straight, it hurt, her arms floating uselessly at her sides. Instinct demanded she move, run, make the earth crumble; her fingers twitched, itching to do something—anything—to get whatever the fuck was crawling up her spine off. She could feel her lungs tightening, both out of apprehension and because something was physically constricting around her rib cage, so she dared not move.

She wasn't exactly sure how she ended up in this predicament, and frankly she didn't care. One moment, they were resting, discussing their plan to rendezvous with the Iwagakure team, and the next, Sakura felt something slither up her legs, her hips, her chest, then coil so tightly around her, she couldn't move.

"Talk to us, Haruno." Okami's voice, as polished as ever, made her gaze snap over to him. If she strained her ears and squinted just right, Sakura could have sworn he sounded a little roiled.

Okami and his squad stood a few feet away, still and silent as they observed her, calculating stratagems on how to free her but she didn't care because—holy fuck it was crawling again. Sakura grunted as the creature constricted around her once before slackening, needlessly warning her of it's danger, the clicking of it's joints acting as a morbid background song that will haunt her dreams for years to come. Twenty pairs of legs caressed her skin, whispering their threats as if second nature to them, its segmented body vibrating with mirth.

"Its okay," Sakura called out, her tone as calm as she could muster. Okami's mask shifted, wordlessly acknowledging her. "I'm okay."

His head tilted back at that, the cords in his neck now prominent; she imagined his jaw setting in irritation. After a beat in tense silence, he and the rest of the squad took a few steps back, but retained their ready-to-strike posture just in case. Anxiety clumped her throat like cotton, making her breath shake more than it already did while fear boiled through her veins. Refusing to let her unease show, Sakura glanced at the creature that wound around her, slowly turning her head to meet beady black eyes head on. Large pincers separated to reveal serrated teeth as sharp as glass, and seeing the creature's gaping mouth made Sakura's stomach churn in discomfort.

The centipede, which snaked around her right leg, up her torso and around her neck, seemed to react to her words, it's body stretching and head twisting as if to get a better look at her, or maybe taunt her. Its antennae twitched, grazing her neck and cheek in silent warning. A high pitched chirping came from the thing, similar to the sounds a bush cricket made mixed with the hiss of an angry mantis. It fucking hissed. She didn't even know centipedes made noise, which was terrifying in and of itself. The massive insect curled it's head around her neck until the crown of its head nuzzled her cheek, although Sakura suspected the otherwise affectionate gesture was anything but.

The sounds of movement behind her tickled her ears, but Sakura forced herself to relax despite it. That didn't stop her teammates from drawing their weapons and pointing them at whoever approached her. She raised her hands, slowly, focusing on keeping them from shaking, and then an arm draped loosely across her chest. The arm holding her in place shifted, pulling her closer against a body that seemed to lack too much heat.

"Move," Hot breath fanned as far down as her shoulder and as high up as her ear, "and you die."

Swallowing, Sakura tiled her head to the side to assess what she could of her captor but all she could make out was the tail end of long golden hair, tangled and matted with blood. A kunoichi stood a few feet away as well, dressed in the standard claret uniform of Iwagakure's shinobi forces. The exhaustion on her face was discernible, revealed by dark gray smears painted beneath her eyes and bruising on her cheeks, her short, black hair a mess.

"Release her." Okami's timbre was all command, zero trace of negotiation or sympathy to be found.

"Not a chance."

His voice was deep, retaining faint traces of boyhood which led her to believe he wasn't much older than her, but weak and slurred with exhaustion. With him pressed so close, Sakura could feel the rattling of his chest, hear the wheeze in his breath. He smelled like death—like posies and sickness and poison. So this was him: the Tsuchikage's apprentice.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow you all up, hmm."

At the threat, Okami's posture transitioned into a more dangerous one, and then the atmosphere became heavy with intent. Tendrils of inky warning rolled off of the wolfish Anbu, traveling across the clearing to caress Sakura's cheeks; she felt his chakra crawling up the fissures of her spine, winding into her hair, tangling at the strands at the back of her neck. Like a chakra signature, the killing intent of a person had its own unique taste. Most of the time, it tasted thickly of unrestrained rage and darkness and danger, leaving the tongue dry and throat clotted with energy, and Okami's was no different, except that his was almost possessive and minty; it ripped all the breath from her lungs, amplified by the billowing presence of the rest of the team. For a moment, she was reminded of her fight, or rather, his fight against Hoshigaki Kisame.

She felt the vibration of the Tsuchikage's apprentice's tittering sneer, followed by his own lusty chakra lashing out against her team's. It was weaker than theirs', likely due to his condition, but still strong enough to suffocate her. Things were getting out of hand. She had to do something before someone did something stupid. She prayed the Gods gave her patience, because if they gave her strength, she'd kill a man.

"We were sent by the Hokage," Sakura calmly informed the young man, hoping it would stamp down his bloodlust. The uniquely pale centipede unwound part of its body to observe her again, that disgusting hiss and drawn out croaking making her lip curl into a grimace. Seeing that it hadn't lashed out at her and that its owner didn't respond, Sakura continued, "As per request of the Tsuchikage. My name is Haruno Sakura, apprentice to Lady Tsunade. I'm here to help heal Lord Tsuchikage's apprentice." She nodded towards the Anbu. "They're my escorts. We've been traveling for five days to get to you."

"Oh thank Kami!" Another voice on the other side of her breathed, however his relieved sigh went ignored.

"Oonoki-sama would never ask for help from birds like you," The dark haired kunoichi spat, narrowing her eyes as she met Sakura's growing glare.

Recognizing the slur behind the tone, Sakura sunk her teeth into the side of her cheek. "Well he did. So please, allow me to take a look at your injuries."

The kunoichi scoffed, but it was her captor who spoke. "Prove it then, Kunoichi."

Glancing sideways at the caustic woman, Sakura tsk'ed in annoyance. Her fingers were trembling now, her own chakra growing agitated with all the dark intent around her. "Do you honestly think we'd carry around a scroll with that kind of information on it? This is an unsanctioned mission, again, done as a favor for Lord Tsuchikage."

"And why would the Hokage send her precious apprentice all the way here, hmm?"

Sakura grunted, the taunt in his voice not even remotely lost to her. "Because she lost a bet. Owes him a favor." It was a calloused guess, because knowing her mentor, that was exactly what happened. She heard Okami's low admonishment—"Haruno."—but she paid him no mind, too focused on the centipede's pincers pressing into the underside of her jaw to care.

"Deidara-nii, don't trust them!"

The man ignored his teammate, moving to murmur into her ear once again, unknowingly revealing his agony with his breathing. "You have five seconds to make a believer out of me before I make a masterpiece out of you, hmm. And let me tell you, I'm not known for getting all the way to five, Pinky."

Having heard the threat, Okami's stance transitioned into something fierce, ready to strike, and his team mirrored him. They would attack whether or not Sakura was out of the way, her title and their mission be damned. Sakura closed her eyes, brows furrowed and lips drawn into a thin line; she hated doing this, but it seemed she had no choice. The longer they entertained this back and forth, the higher the chance of Deidara's condition weakening. She was surprised he was even awake, let alone able to stand and threaten her. So either he now owed the Gods a favor, or he was merely too stubborn to die.

She took one deep breath in, focusing on the lions that roared in her chest, on the thrumming of her chakra. She needed to distract him, keep him talking.

"Is that too high for you to count?" The taunt slipped out before she could restrain it. Inwardly, Sakura cursed herself for her recklessness, but was distracted by the bark of sharp laughter that emanated from this Deidara.

"Cute," He dryly chuckled. "I didn't realize the birds in Konoha had backbones. They usually snap," He made a harsh snicking noise with his throat as emphasis, "so easily, hmm."

Sakura shook her head with a smile full of glass, a mirthless huff acting as a laugh. "You've got a lot to learn about us Konoha-nin, then."

The ground groaned tiredly beneath her feet, it's flesh beginning to crack as her chakra seeped out of her. She felt her muscles twitch in response to a tickling sensation that danced along her arms. Her chakra swirled, undulating below her navel and fluttering against the lining of her stomach, rapidly winding its way up her spine and coloring her skin in a pattern that had only ever marked her once before—during her battle against Akasuna no Sasori.

It wasn't often that she resulted to intimidation via chakra. Having such an infamous, well-known team like hers, full of such fear-inducing shinobi like Mokuton no Tenzo and the Kannabi Kyoudai meant she didn't necessarily need to. She used the underestimation of others to her advantage, showing the true extent of her power when necessary and even then, Sakura knew her intent alone wasn't as provoking as Sasuke's or Naruto's or even Sai's. But she was still terrifying in her own right and when using her Yin Seal in tandem, she liked to say she was close.

Ino called it fluffing. Sakura called it being advantageous.

So when she felt the ground sink a few inches and heard the surprised curses of the Iwa-nin surrounding her, a wicked sort of satisfaction made Sakura grin to herself. And then the earth beneath her feet shattered, shards of rock blossoming from the ground like the blooming of her namesake. The markings of her seal stretched, winding up Deidara's arm which tightened around her minutely as he faltered. She surged chakra through the tendrils of her markings, coaxing it into Deidara's flesh as gently yet firmly as possible while still maintaining her presence.

Deidara grunted and made to pull away but Sakura latched onto his arm with both hands before he could. She sunk her nails into his skin more roughly than she normally would with a patient, but with men like Deidara, a little bit of roughness went a long way. She heard his accompanying teammates move to leap to his defense, but their strikes never came. She blinked, and then suddenly, Okami was so close to her, she could feel the edge of his tanto kissing her cheek as it bypassed her, resting comfortably against Deidara's neck.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Pain played upon the notes of Deidara's demand, twisting his question into a near-delirious drawl, accentuated by the quaking of his shoulders.

"Medical techniques can be applied to more than just healing," She vaguely replied whilst beginning to reign in her chakra. "Now, if you don't let me heal you, you will die. The poison is spreading every moment we wait and will spread even faster if you pass out. So if you're done wasting my time, sit the fuck down and let me do my goddamned job."

They remained rooted in place for a moment, until finally, the centipede slackened from its place around her. It unfurled from her legs and crawled the rest of the way up her body, climbing onto its owner but still close enough to reach her. Once the last leg left her body, Sakura took the acceptance for what it was and turned to finally face her captor.

She was immediately taken aback by how pale he was. His skin was absolutely ashen, devoid of all color except for the fatigue beneath his eyes and a feverish blush that was spread along the apples of his cheeks to the edge of his hairline, and only looked more muted against his blonde hair. She could visibly see the poison spreading through him in the form of dark purple veins splitting across his cheeks, even reaching into the yellowed whites of his eyes. Sakura immediately dismissed Okami's blade with the back of her hand and reached for the blonde's face, tilting his head back and gently pulling his eyelids back with her thumbs. His eyes were glossy, pupils blown so wide she could hardly make out the slate gray of his irises, and unfocused.

Sakura sucked in an astonished breath as she felt the muscles of his face pulse beneath her fingers. "How the hell are you still alive?" She breathed.

The blonde scoffed, the corner of his lip twitching into a crumpled copy of a smirk. "Us Iwa-nin are built like stone. It'll take more than," He paused, his breathing hitching and face twisting in discomfort when the cooling wave of Sakura's chakra flooded him. He cleared his throat, a motion that Sakura noted was difficult, then continued, "I-it'll take more than this to kill me, hmm."

Sakura rolled her eyes at that. Damn male pride.

Instead, she turned a sharp glimpse to the kunoichi; she was tense, nose scrunched with her grimace as she side-eyed them all. Not that Sakura could blame her. She was surrounded by less-than-friendly shinobi, with Nezumi on one side of her, his tanto positioned just under her jaw. On the other side of Deidara, the third quieter shinobi, who looked equally as ragged but at least twice their size, was in the same position with Inu; Kitsune stood between both of them with both of his hands outstretched, a pair of kunai also ready at their necks. Absently, she realized Okami hadn't moved from his place in front of Deidara, something she especially noted when she felt his shoulder brush against hers.

They looked like hell, probably felt like it too. Having weapons pointed at them wasn't going to help.

"Okami-taichou," Sakura glanced at him, but he didn't gift her the same respect. "Please stand down."

"Forgive me, Jonin Haruno, but our orders are to keep you safe," He replied, curtly.

Sakura bristled. "I understand, Taichou, but I doubt any of them have enough energy to fight against us right now." There was a collective scoff from the three Iwa-nin, and perhaps even one from her Captain, but no one dared to argue. With the easing of Okami's stance, the other three Anbu followed suit. "You need to lay down. My seal is the only thing keeping you up now. Where have you guys been staying?"

The largest in the group jerked his head back towards the treeline. "We set up camp by the ravine."

"Shion is less than a day's away. Why didn't you hunker down there?"

"The same reason you've got Anbu for an escort, hmm." Deidara gestured to Okami with the slight lifting of his chin, then uncut celestite met polished aventurine, and she understood. Being apprentices to Kage meant having neon-bright targets on their back at all times, regardless of territory or state of health, and with their colorful features, that target was painted a little larger. Any black-market bounty hunter would know who they were, so taking that into account, it probably wasn't the best idea for both of them to head into town together.

Sakura positioned Deidara at her side with an arm around his waist, and one of his around her shoulders. "Let's go."

Kamen

Shisui wouldn't say he was a judgmental person.

He didn't like to base his ideas and opinions of people on looks or upbringing, and as an Anbu, he couldn't. But he grew up in a clan where appearance and childhood were important, so without his permission, he did sometimes judge others on a surface level. He had done so with Haruno since the very beginning, after all, and admittedly, still did. He told himself he wasn't scrutinizing anyone or being biased, that he was following gut instincts and intuition.

So that was what he reiterated to himself as he eyed the three Iwa-nin before him.

There was something off about them, the Tsuchikage's apprentice especially—but he wasn't sure what. The man was very clearly on Death's door, already in the clutches of the Gods, and in the back of his mind, Shisui feared what would happen once he gave in. He would've liked to believe the blond's teammates would understand that there was nothing they could do, but he knew Iwagakure. They were shifty bastards with so much nationalistic pride, that they would blame Haruno for their loss. He knew it, because this wouldn't have been the first time those sheep turned on those who tried to help.

So he was ready for them, and so was his team.

He sent his teammates to their posts, assigning them spots close enough for them to flicker back to once the mayhem started, but he remained close to Haruno—just in case.

And he waited.

He watched every little move everyone in the hastily erected camp made; every twitch, every hand movement, every fucking breath. Because he knew them. That was why his Hokage sent his squad, specifically. With three shinobi blessed with the Sharingan and one of the best specialty assassins in the village, those mountain goats stood no chance against them—Tsuchikage's apprentice be damned.

So he waited.

"My seal is already working on the rest of your injuries, but it won't do anything for the poison so I'll have to extract it manually," Haruno explained, wiping the sweat from her cheek with her shoulder. Her tone was short, not quite clipped but also not as clinical as her usual "doctor's voice". Once her hair was out of the way, she removed a scroll from her pouch and drew it open, revealing rolled up cases, and jars of herbs and bottles of ointments, and other such things. She began combining things into a motar; some sort of auburn powder and two pale green herbs, the bud of a lilac flower, then handed them to the kunoichi with the attitude. "Grind these as much as possible, then pour them into that bowl over there with some water."

The kunoichi's cheeks burnished with what Shisui assumed was irritation. "You're just a medic. Who are you to boss me around?"

Haruno whipped around, and he saw avalanches in her glare. "My seal is the only thing keeping the poison from circulating. It's localizing it, drawing it away from his organs. If I take my hands off of him now, it'll rush through his bloodstream all at once and kill him. So if that's too hard for you to do, give it to your friend," She sniped, jerking her head towards the massive man behind her. "While we're at it, if you're going to keep getting in my way, you can fuck on off. This procedure is delicate and will be painful as hell, so I don't need you bothering me every step of the way."

Had he been in his Jonin Blues, Shisui would've snickered at the way the woman's face contorted, so he settled on biting his smirk. He liked this side of Haruno, this rough, demanding one, as it paired well with the chaos that she personified. The markings on her skin hadn't yet receded and seemed to glow with her mood, and damn was it beautiful.

He had heard tales of the Byakugo no In; of the way his Hokage had used it to save Obito over twenty years ago; how it aided Haruno in her battle against Akasuna no Sasori.

It was considered the most powerful of all medical techniques, allowing the user to store a seemingly infinite amount of chakra into a secondary reserve, mastered only by Senju Tsunade and Haruno Sakura. It required the best chakra control, as it was very, very easy for the user to burn their keirakukei and destroy tenketsu, and was therefore considered an S-ranked Fuinjutsu. That tiny seal allowed its user to heal whole villages in one go, gave her the strength of an entire army—and if he were the type to believe in rumors, gave the user a bite of immortality.

And he had the honor of seeing it in action.

Witnessing the proof of her prowess, feeling the danger and the destruction in her chakra just rolling and crashing into him like waves—it was a sensation he wouldn't soon forget.

The kunoichi was sputtering, indignant and looking as if she would throw the materials in her hand to the ground. Deidara, as exhausted as he was, shouted at her, "Shut up, Kurotsuchi!"

And she did.

"Okay, I'm going to begin extracting as much of the poison as possible," Haruno began. She was kneeling over the Tsuchikage's apprentice, her small hands lingering over his naked chest. "It's going to hurt like hell, Deidara-san."

A huff. "Just get it over with, hmm!"

She waved the large, unnamed Iwa-nin over. "You're going to have to hold him down. This procedure is extremely painful, so he'll either fight you or pass out, but that's normal." Once the man situated himself over his teammate's side, trapping one of the blond's shoulders and an arm with his hands, Haruno looked up at Kurotsuchi. "Is that mixture done?"

"Here."

She placed the bowl beside Haruno, who took a deep breath. "You'll have to hold him down, too, just in case."

Shisui moved closer before he could think about it, led by his own curiosity. Manual poison extraction was indeed incredibly painful, but more than that, it was dangerous, especially considering the condition of her current patient. He had heard the screams that resulted from the procedure a few times before, but he had never seen it firsthand. So it was with almost childlike fascination, that Shisui watched as Haruno placed one hand inside the liquid Kurotsuchi made. When he removed her hand, a bubble similar in color to her chakra formed, and she carefully led it to Deidara's side.

"Alright," Sakura breathed. "One...two..."

Deidara's shoulders shot up from the ground, his body twisting as an agonized scream was torn from his already raw throat. Haruno yelled at the Iwa-nin to hold him down, and once he had been pinned, she pushed the bubble into his chest again. That kunoichi looked like she was biting back a snarl, her large companion fighting his own protest, but the two kept Deidara down. Haruno worked through it all—the thrashing, the cursing, the screaming—without so much as a flinch. He could see steam rising from the many gashes that gaped along Deidara's flesh. The skin knitted back together almost seamlessly, its sallow glisten darkening into something warmer, while what were once garish splotches of indigo rapidly faded into shades of pink.

The control she had to have, to be able to mend skin and internal organs, while simultaneously manipulating poison in the bloodstream was amazing! She was in control here, powerful in a way completely different than she was on the battlefield, but it was still every bit as incredible to him.

And so Shisui watched.

Chapter Text

This chapter is dedicated to
Peaches-jpg
for being such an awesome, talented person!

Thank you for being such
a dedicated reader, and for making such
an incredible cover photo for this fic!

Shisui stiffly counted the minutes as they trickled by, patiently waiting as adrenaline tenderly nibbled at his neck.

He inspected the all-embracing vicinity through the slits of his sallow mask, sure to leave no movement, regardless of how small or natural, overlooked. The wind shifted just slightly against the exposed skin of his arms, altered by some existent force he couldn't see at that exact moment; but he knew it was a large energy. His ears twitched as he listened to the white noise of the forest, memorizing every wind swept tree branch and every bird song, waiting for the slightest change in ambience.

Idly, his fingers worked a knot into the line of wire grasped in his hand.

Compared to the other assignments his team had been tasked with these past few days, this—the takedown of a major black market profiteer and his branch—was the easiest of them all. And frankly, he could use the time away from base camp. Things were tense with the Iwa-nin around, and being in the Corps. was taxing enough without the added stress of an injured team of shinobi from a rival village to add to it. Frankly, he was just about ready to claim an end to their mission, because technically they didn't have to stay. The Tsuchikage's apprentice was healed, as per the agreement. There was nothing in their assignment objectives that stated they had to see to his full recovery.

However, Shisui had a feeling that Haruno wouldn't quite see it that way.

He didn't know how she did it—be so compassionate. Or was stubborn the right word? Whatever it was, he had to commend her for it. He could tell she was beginning to get riled up being around that other kunoichi, Kurotsuchi, but that infamous temper of hers was so far, kept in check—well, mostly. The dark haired woman seemed to have a chip on her shoulder and problems with authority, making it a personal hobby to question and infuriate the rose haired medic, even when she, herself, was being treated.

It had gotten to the point that the two women had come to blows. And normally, Shisui would've been more than okay with letting it play out (because if he were being honest, he would've loved to see Jonin Haruno wipe the floor with that sheep—would've paid for it, too) but the Hokage had put a strict emphasis on the importance of this favor, so he had to step in before things got too out of hand.

His recollections crumbled as a high-pitched chirp similar to a wren's reached his ears, distinct from the other melodies, squeaking out a trill of nine quick beats. After nine, it rolled in a way similar to a purr, then gave three more chirrups at a higher pitch—"Subjects inbound: nine targets, three cargo."

Closing his eyes, Shisui quickly brought his hands together to form the seal of the rat; the darkness behind his lids shifted, morphing into a world of ultraviolet shades linked to his raven's sight. He commanded his bird to leave its perch, steering it through cobwebs of low-hanging branches and between closely gnarled trunks, until he found a small caravan traipsing along a thin footpath. He had his bird circle the group carefully, studying their formation for himself. They traveled in a cross formation; one man took the lead with two behind him. A cage with three captives came after them, one shinobi on either side, and then four taking up the rear.

He glanced at the faces inside the cage, dark with grime and fatigue. Civilians. Cargo.

Breaking the ocular connection with his familiar, Shisui drew his tongue along the roof of his mouth, wetting and repositioning the whistle-plate on his tongue. He hissed twice, each a second long and behind clenched teeth, creating a pair of shrill chirps, then trilled with the vibration of his lips, in askance of Inu's position.

A second song, much more distant and therefore distorted with echoes, replied to him; a strong three-note call belonging to a whip-poor-will, repeated twice—"Group one has been eliminated."

Several moments passed without another note, quickly nipping at Shisui's attention. But he wasn't too concerned; Kitsune was good at what he did. After a tense minute, there came a high-pitched, but soft introductory of whistles, followed by a much louder and deeper succession of chirps, finished with a warbled song—"Group three eliminated."

Adjusting the slip of metal in his mouth again, Shisui chirred his approval and called out his next set of directions—"Move into final position.

Within fifteen minutes, the caravan approached his position; he rolled his knuckles in anticipation. Once three near-identical titters called out to him, Shisui balanced the tiny, metal plate on his tongue one last time and made a soft, flute-like trill—"Go."

The furthest two subjects at the rear of the procession shot up from the ground, hands flailing towards their necks as they were hoisted into the trees by wire nooses. Another moment passed, and then the next two met a similar fate; Inu and Kitsune silently took their places, rappelling down from their hiding places. The two Anbu gestured with a finger to their masks, hushing the captives before they could alert the rest of the group. Shisui watched as the two snuck behind the two men on the sides of the cart; with one quick jerk, their necks snapped and they crumbled into the operatives' arms.

Deftly, Shisui casted the noose in his hands, dropping it over the neck of one unsuspecting target at the front of the procession, and dropped from his perch, simultaneously winching his target up into the air a second sooner than Itachi's—he'll tease him for it later. The final remaining subject, having finally noticed the ambush, whirled around to confront the group of Anbu, just to falter, his body jerking violently in Shisui's arms. Shisui listened to the man's last, rattling breath as it fanned against his neck—to be sure—then unsheathed his tanto from his body, allowing the man to fall unceremoniously at his feet.

Too easy.

"Objective complete. Free the prisoners, then head out."

Kamen

Sakura decided early on that Deidara was the most difficult patient she ever had the pleasure of working on.

First and foremost, his heart was on the other side of his chest. Why? Because there was a fucking mouth where it should should've been. It made no difference when it came to healing him, other than the fact that she had to be careful with the extra mouth since it fed on chakra. And that was when she realized he had two more mouths on his hands. What the fuck.

Apparently those mouths are what created that God awful centipede that had captured her the other day—which, by the way, remained within arms reach of her at all times. And could explode if Deidara, even while unconscious, felt threatened, according to the much friendlier Akatsuchi.

After all that, it had taken two days passed before Deidara's fever broke.

And then three days came and went before he woke up.

She nearly lost him twice. Once during the Saikan Chushutsu procedure—which she had expected—and once a day later as a result of the stress his body had gone through. Sakura grunted as she recalled the standoff that ensued as a result of his almost-death. His kunoichi teammate, Kurotsuchi, had put a knife to her throat, accusing her of purposely killing him, which only resulted in Okami pressing the tip of his tanto into her stomach, not quite puncturing the skin, but almost. And then of course, the other teammate, Akatsuchi, prepared to cast a jutsu, just to be halted from Nezumi's sword against his cheek—and holy fuck, was that tense.

They were all on edge around each other as it was, to the point that she had to be separated after a brief scuffle with Kurotsuchi. Ever since then, at least one of her Anbu escorts had to stay within Shushin range of her at all times just in case. She didn't need the blond bastard dying on her, making it any worse.

So for the past three days, going on four, Sakura remained at his bedside all hours of the day and night, pulsing chakra into his system every other hour just to be sure he wasn't giving up on her. If not for her Yin Seal, she probably would've passed out from chakra exhaustion, herself!

Allowing one leg to dangle from the branch she claimed as her own, Sakura let her head fall back against its trunk, listening to the reassuring bird calls that pierced the forest's melody. If she didn't know any better, she would've assumed they truly belonged to the woods.

Being a country full of woods and forests, the Land of Fire was home to more species of bird than any other country, housing nearly forty-eight hundred different types—almost half of the collective total of known species across all the nations. Eight-hundred seventy genus came from Konoha, alone. Because of this, birds were heavily relied upon for all sorts of things: food, communication, hunting. And like birds, Konoha-nin were bred for the forests. It was noticeable in the colors they wore, in the green of their flak jackets and the rich, autumn reds of their fabrics. Shinobi-to-be were taught to travel through trees, to sleep balanced on the highest, thinnest branches, to memorize the various types of conifers that were native to the land. They stuck together, flocked together, nurtured each other.

And while it wasn't common for the general public, higher classed ninja like Anbu could speak in birdsong. Border checkpoints were full of melodic chirps and flute-like twitters that spoke of returning comrades, while surrounding sectors buzzed with trills of command. And there was no sound more comforting to a tired, dying Konoha-nin than an Anbu's birdsong.

To a Konoha ninja, the chirping of birds meant safety. To foreign ninja, it meant danger.

And just like Kiri-nin were the most feared in the mist, and Suna-nin thrived in sand dunes, there was no place that Konoha shinobi were more dangerous and at home in, than in a forest. And that was why the shinobi of Konoha were called birds.

"God damn birdsong."

And then there were people like Deidara, who believed to be a bird, meant to be easy to scare and quick to flee, to be annoying.

Sakura's attention shot to the blond Iwa-nin the moment she heard his grumble. She abandoned her perch immediately, placing a light hand against his back to help him into a sitting position. He batted her hand away, weakly, but didn't fight her off when she replaced her hand a moment later. "Couldn't you Leaf-nin find a less annoying way to communicate, hmm?"

Sakura shook her head, closing her eyes as if it would somehow alleviate the headache that nibbled at the back of her stiff neck. As exhausted as she was from her three-day battle with injuries, both from the Iwa team and her own, she refused to show it. "Us birds are just doing what we do best," She lightly replied, hoping she sounded as indifferent as she imagined she did. If he was aware, or even cared, Deidara didn't let on.

As soon as he managed to get into a seated position, the blond tensed, head whipping around the small, but cluttered, encampment. His eyes, sharp and cat-like, narrowed into fine slits. "Where's my team?"

Sakura gestured to the kunoichi on the other side of the camp, curled up at the base of a fallen tree and almost completely hidden by a wall of travel packs she had built. "She'll be fine," She assured, seeing the way Deidara's jaw tightened. "Her injuries weren't as bad as yours. Mostly just chakra exhaustion and dehydration so she'll be out for a while. I healed her dislocated shoulder and her burns as soon as I finished with you."

He scanned the area again. "And Akatsuchi?"

"Keeping watch." She flicked a finger towards the east, and after a moment, Deidara's shoulders slackened—almost imperceptibly, but it was better than nothing. "He didn't have much physical injuries to begin with. Just more chakra exhaustion and some bruised ribs. You were the one with all the injuries."

Those stormy eyes finally turned their attention to her, dark and wary; studying her. "You look like shit, hmm."

Sakura's fingers twitched, tightening into a tight-knuckled fist that carved moons in her palm. She wasn't expecting a friendly "good morning" or "thanks for healing me", but she also didn't expect such a rude comment. Years with Naruto at her side conditioned her to lash out at comments like that, and had she been a moment slower, her fist might have reached him—apprentice of the Tsuchikage be damned. But she stopped herself, allowing nothing more than the slight jerking of her right arm. "You don't look much better, sheep."

She didn't normally result to names, but Deidara was a special case, in every sense of the word. His shoulders jumped, chest rumbling as a sound reminiscent of a snort of a snort left his lips and a hand raking carelessly through his knotted gold locks, but he didn't react to her jeer otherwise.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, hmm."

From her position beside him, Sakura took a minute to observe the more noticeable signs of his recovery. His skin had found its color, taking on a much healthier sun-kissed tan that held undertones of peach. Brushing his hair aside, she gently pushed his eyelids back with her thumbs to get a good look at his eyes; his sclera had brightened into a mere off-white while his pupils had dilated to a much smaller point and had lost that sickly, delirious shine, revealing clear blue-gray eyes that eyed her critically.

After a few more minutes of observation, Sakura reached over for the canteen at her side then offered it to Deidara, jerking her wrist persuasively when he didn't accept it right away. "Here. This will help."

Deidara hesitated, eyeing the flask as if it would reach out and bite him, before he slowly took it from her grasp. He removed the cap, pausing to sniff it, then crinkled his nose. "That's not water," He accused, but he was unable to disguise the amused lilt in his tone. Then the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest hint of a smirk, mirroring the praise in his eyes. "You sneaky bird. You're not trying to buy my friendship, are you? Because it'll take a lot more than some cheap Land of Fire sake for that, hmm."

Rolling her eyes, Sakura pinched the bridge of her nose. "After the pain you're undoubtedly in—" He snorted at that. "—I figured you could use something a little stronger than water. Most of my patients appreciate it, even if it's not recommended after a procedure like that. So drink up. Doctor's orders."

He swirled the canteen around with a loose wrist, idly listening to its contents slosh around. He was considering it, gauging her reaction it seemed, because of course he wasn't fully convinced it was poison. "I would've never thought I'd be prescribed liquor before, hmm."

"Its the one and only time."

After taking a deep gulp of the contents of the canteen, Deidara shivered, then lowered the container into his lap. He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to press a fist to his chest. Part of her wanted to scoff at him—cheap sake, my ass—but she managed to clamp down on the urge. "Yeah well, this is nothing compared to the sake back in Iwa." He made to hand it back to Sakura but she waved a hand in denial, so he held it to his mouth again. "You ever had Kumis?"

Sakura hummed, leaning back onto her palms, watching as he took another large swig. She assumed Deidara was still feeling a little disoriented from his injuries, either that or he was a major light weight (although she highly doubted that), because he didn't seem the type to be so talkative with others, especially with someone from the Leaf. But she wasn't about to complain about it. "Can't say I've tried anything from Earth Country."

"You're missing out, hmm." He leant back slightly, his face twisting into a grimace as a particularly tender muscle contorted with his movement. He regarded her from the slope of his nose, bordering snobbishly, before gesturing to her with the canteen. "Iwa produces nothing but the strongest."

The underlying crow wasn't lost to her, but Sakura didn't bother commenting on it. She had heard of the various spirits native to Tsuchi no Kuni, and strong didn't even begin to describe them. Tsunade had mentioned that almost all liquors from Earth country had this unique, dry aftertaste that clung to the throat for hours. Sweet wasn't common for their drinks either apparently, but sour was.

"Hmm, I guess I'll have to buy some next time I go to Shion."

He clicked his tongue and looked away, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's just say I owe you one—If I ever run into you on good terms, hmm."

Had Deidara been in a clearer state of mind, Sakura would've assumed he was flirting with her, and had she been in a better mood (and had he not tried to kill her), she might have flirted back. But she knew better. So she just hummed, encouraging him to talk and drink and talk some more. "So how'd you end up so fucked up while your teammates got by relatively unscathed?"

Deidara shifted to bend one leg, then as he settled his arm on his knee, replied, "Not that its any business of yours." He paused, raking his tired gaze over her, reigning in his joviality as quickly as it appeared, "but then again, I suppose it is since the piece of shit was one of yours, hmm."

Recalling her debriefing with Tsunade and Obito, Sakura remembered that her mentor had mentioned something along those lines. She didn't state a name or a description, but Sakura supposed it didn't matter since it wasn't her priority to go around hunting down nuke-nin.

"Anyway," Deidara grunted, lolling his head away from her. "Those two know better than to get in the way of my art."

A coral brow quirked in curiosity. "Your art?"

With a smirk, he raised the arm he had draped his his knee, revealing that pesky centipede that had previously followed her around. It crawled out of its nest in Deidara's lap and up his torso, antennae convulsing as it turned eerily black eyes on her. Hearing the clicking of its joints made Sakura's nose twist with a grimace, but her discomfort was quickly replaced with fascination. Tentatively, Sakura reached for the creature, hand flinching back before she could touch it and eyes flickering up to Deidara, silently asking permission. He didn't say anything, just turned his head to the side with the rolling of his eyes. Taking it as approval, Sakura held her arm out; the centipede crawled onto her, it's powerful legs scratching at her skin.

As unnerving as it was, having a literal live explosive crawling onto her, but now what she didn't have to worry about it going off on her, Sakura had to admit from a scientific standpoint, it was kind of cool. "Careful," He abruptly warned, when she began prodding at the centipede's maw. "Its not made to bite, but that doesn't mean it won't."

"So it has a mind of its own?"

"Its clay." His retort was short, caustic, but somehow, Sakura could pick out the keenness in his tone, and suddenly, she felt as if she had opened the door for something dangerous. "It does whatever I want it to do."

"Your friend said you made this," Sakura began, canting her head to the right. She could see the tightness in his posture. "With those mouths on your hands?"

The arm that he left outstretched twisted so his palm faced up, and Sakura's brows furrowed with concentrated wonder. The seam along his palm parted after a moment, revealing a pale pink tongue and squared teeth. Without thinking, Sakura reached for the appendage and separated the "lips" further to get a better view of its teeth, immediately yanking her hand back when it nipped at her. The action coaxed a glare out of her, but Deidara didn't so much as look at her; he merely took another swig of the canteen, the tightening of his jaw and the huffing of breath acting as the only indication of his amusement.

"Is this a kekkei genkai?"

"Again, not your business, hmm."

Sakura harrumphed, leaning in closer, wrapping her other hand around his wrist to keep him in place. She poked at the flesh surrounding the mouth, humming contently as the tongue lolled out once again. "So does your body convert chakra?"

He made a face at that, took another breath of liquor. "What?"

She pointed at his chest, gesturing to the mouth over his left pectoral. "When I was healing you, it kept stealing my chakra, like it was eating it." To prove her point, Sakura summoned a trickle of chakra to her fingertips, and watched as the glimmer of it quickly flickered out upon making contact with his skin.

"Why are you—" He faltered, his expression pinching. He was getting irritated with her, she could tell, but she wasn't too worried. "You ask too many questions, hmm."

"I have a morbid curiosity," She replied, lightly, with a little shrug—as if that explained everything. Silence befell for a while, in which Sakura patiently counted the minutes as they passed, her fingers idly gliding over the clattering body of her strange new uh, friend. It was a little over a half an hour later, and lots of back-and-forth, that Deidara suddenly shushed her. His whole body tightened, expression a moue of pain, and then he turned away from her to empty out his stomach.

"A-ah what the fuck?" He breathed, dry heaving again the moment he filled his lungs with air. "What'd you do to me now!?"

"I told you drinking wasn't recommended," Sakura merely pointed out, clapping a sympathetic hand to his shoulder.

He spat into the grass, glaring at her. "Then why'd you let me?"

The smile that stretched across the medic's face was smug, bitten at the corner with poorly disguised mirth. "I needed you to throw up."

Kamen

Shisui wasn't sure what he expected when he and his team returned to base camp, but it certainly wasn't to Haruno making friends with the Iwa-nin.

She was sitting beside the Tsuchikage's apprentice, closely, as if she wanted to, rather than because she had to. Kurotsuchi was stroking the fire, eyeing Haruno with wilted annoyance but appeared otherwise indifferent, while the bulkier shinobi, Akatsuchi, chatted away with Haruno and Deidara. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised him that the rosette would make friends with them. She was raised in a different time, with a team who put special value and emphasis on relationships.

And it should have been a good thing, considering the importance of this mission, but he didn't like it.

The apprentice, Deidara, had finally woken up, and was sitting up in his bed roll while Haruno ran her fingers along his skin. She touched him so tenderly, splaying her slender fingers across his chest, his shoulders, his arms, as she traced his spine with chakra from her right hand. And she was laughing at something Deidara had said.

He knew Haruno was aware of his return; she was facing him, after all, and had met his eyes before turning away, acting as if she hadn't noticed him. He nearly chuckled with his amusement. Her mask was nearly as good as his. He had honestly expected her to slip up, that he'd see glazed eyes colored with lust, or that she'd seek him out late at night when it was his turn to keep watch. He even waited for it, let the invitation hang in the air with the way he'd brush his fingers against her when he'd walk past. He even broke routine by taking the second to last guard shift, just so they'd be uninterrupted should she choose to follow him. But she never did.

Whether that disappointed him, or made him all the more excited for their return home, Shisui didn't care enough to figure out.

Cobalt flashed, clashing against onyx and for a moment, Shisui swore he saw a slash of teeth, but Deidara had already looked away from him. Shisui narrowed his eyes. He still didn't like this—them. He didn't trust those Iwa sheep any more than he trusted a wild snake.

Especially Deidara.

As he thought before, it was strange that the Hokage would send more than two Sharingan users out on the same team, especially as Anbu. He had initially believed it was because of the fact that Iwa-nin were the weakest against Genjutsu, so sending three powerful Genjutsu specialists to defend her apprentice against them seemed logical if not a bit overprotective.

But Shisui was no fool. He learned a few interesting things about their temporary "comrade" when he visited Shion earlier, so of course he had to do a bit more research while he had the chance.

Apparently Deidara was very popular in his home village, with a rumored destiny of leadership after Oonoki eventually steps down. His relationship with the Tsuchikage ran deeper than the official "apprentice" title, with them having met when Deidara was seven years old after an altercation with Kurotsuchi, who also happened to be the Tsuchikage's granddaughter. Under the Tsuchikage's tutelage, Deidara mastered Bakuton by the time he was ten, became the recipient of some highly classified Iwagakure Kinjutsu at twelve, and by nineteen, he became a Captain for Iwagakure's elite Explosion Corps; and was recently promoted to Sergeant.

But all that was irrelevant, as far as Shisui was concerned. The only tidbit of information even remotely valuable and of interest to him, was the fact that by nineteen, Deidara had been responsible for the death of twelve Uchiha in one battle, and by twenty-eight, that number had raised to a staggering twenty-two members of the clan.

Shisui remembered that day, when his aunts cried over their lost husbands while his uncles demanded retribution for their sons. A squad of Uchiha had gone to investigate some suspicious activity near one of the clan's old hideouts, and of the fifteen that left, only three returned. It was a hard day for the Uchiha. And by the grace of the Gods, if not for being assigned a last minute mission, Sasuke would have been amid the massacre.

If that had happened, a war would have no doubt broken out.

And that was why his team was altered. Deidara was Iwagakure's little secret secret weapon against the Sharingan. And based on that one scowl Deidara had given him, that lip-twisting snarl, he knew exactly who—or rather, what—Shisui was.

Had he been anybody else, Shisui might have laughed at the irony of it all, or maybe he would have been furious? Either way, his Hokage either had a lot of faith in his tolerance, or she was insane—because who in their right mind would send the village's most powerful Uchiha to protect her disciple, who was tasked to heal a renown Uchiha killer? The ridiculousness of it all was baffling!

A snort pulled Shisui from his thoughts, and upon focusing on the pair once again, Shisui found himself stiffening. That unnaturally white centipede had wrapped itself around Haruno's neck, jowls opening and closing, sharp pincers wiggling. The colors of the world bled into shades of red without his permission, and with his Sharingan whirring, Shisui could see the heady interest gleaming in Deidara's eyes as he watched the medic handle the animated creature with an almost childlike fascination.

Shisui clicked his tongue, allowing a sharp breath to flow from his nostrils. Haruno was being reckless. Too friendly. And so was Deidara. He saw the way the blond's eyes lingered on the pinkette's neck, how he relaxed into her touch as she coaxed chakra into his skin. And with his Sharingan focused on them, Shisui could read every word that left the Iwa-nin's lips—"It looks like you owe me a drink now, birdie." A hand raised, grasping at rosy locks, idly tugging at them, until Haruno batted it away.

His knuckles popped. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure what had happened while he was gone, to make the two suddenly so close, but Shisui did not fucking like it.

He could feel the blond's chakra flickering against his ankles, lapping at his skin with whispers of warnings. Or were they songs of dares? Shisui didn't care, nor did he get the chance to ponder about it further, because suddenly, Deidara moved.

"Haruno!"

"Get down!"

Deidara twisted around, pinning Haruno to the ground beneath him and purposely kicking up dust. Shisui dropped from his cover without a second thought, sword drawn, and he could hear his squad following him. He made to rush forward, to either the pair or to Kurotsuchi, he didn't know, only for a massive white centipede to erupt from the ground in front of him. Four more sprung up, their bodies twisting and crackling, towering over him, hissing at him.

Damn it!

He prepared to launch at the creature closest to him, give his tanto a home in its skull, but it easily avoided his strike, rotating into a coil, and lurched past him. Shisui pivoted, following the beast's movement in time to see it crash into the ground. There was a void between the twists of its body, and with one abrupt jerk of the centipede's body, a series of sickening crackles rang through the encampment, and then the void flickered, revealing a now boneless body in its clutches.

The blues and grays that cloaked the body in front of him were familiar—Kirigakure.

Startled, Shisui relaxed from his defensive crouch, instantly searching the dust clouds for the rest of his squad, just to find them all just as frozen as him. He turned back to Haruno, called out to her. When she didn't respond right away, Shisui made to flicker across the field, only to falter when instinct nipped at the back of his neck. He bowed forward, kicking his right heel up and swiveling on his down-foot, executing a hook kick, but there was nothing there.

He scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes, his Sharingan whirling, noting that Inu and Nezumi now stood back to back while Kitsune pressed his back against a tree. Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi remained sentinel in front of Deidara and Haruno with kunai in hand.

He expanded his chakra, allowing it to latch onto the wind while searching the settlement for any threads of Genjutsu. He found none. Eyes flickering back to Kitsune, Shisui called out to her again. "Talk to us, Haruno."

He heard a grunt, then the shifting of clothing and then, "I'm okay, Taichou."

The wind shifted against the exposed skin of his shoulder a fraction of a second before a sharp pain stretched throughout his side. With an agonized snarl, Shisui reached down, his fingers coming to encircle the hilt of a kunai, but he did not remove it. Instinctively, he threw his arm sideways, and for a moment, he swore he felt something resisting his strike, but again there wasn't anything physically there. The centipede closest to him screeched suddenly, body straightening, bending so far backwards it was unnatural, and then five more ruptured from underground with shrill titters.

"Whatever you do, don't move, hmm!"

Despite impulse demanding he move out of the way, Shisui remained as still as possible, allowing the centipede to curve over him. It moved so quickly, so unnaturally, that Shisui couldn't help but suck in a breath. There was a foreign voice, cursing, then a wetness splattered against the back of Shisui's neck; the centipede reared back over him again, its jaws clearly wrapped around a body that began to waver in and out of visibility, then it burrowed back into the ground, along with the other centipedes.

There were screams, loud but muffled, as if smothered by pounds of dirt. And then the earth groaned and rattled, chunks of stone blossoming as explosions racked the area, sending supplies flying. Shisui leapt away as an explosion cracked the surface right beneath his feet, and from the fissure it created, blood oozed out.

Finally, when all the explosions died down and ran their courses, curses filled the air. Deidara and Kurotsuchi were snarling, complaining and mocking the Mist for their weak attempt at an ambush. Shisui inwardly scoffed—damned Iwa pride.

And then sapphire clashed with scarlet.

A taut silence befell the two groups of shinobi, turmoil brewing beneath stung skin. Adrenaline fueled the tension between them, so potent, Shisui was sure his Sharingan would pick up its silk cobwebs flittering through the clearing. In fact, he was sure if he raised his hand, he could feel the spidery threads resist him, could lace his fingers with them and tear them apart.

"Taichou?"

At the call of his rank, Shisui leveled his gaze with Haruno's. She was still under Deidara, much to his annoyance, so he flashed across the camp and roughly pulled her away from the blond, then flashed them back to his team. He felt her fingers prodding against his side, tentatively ripping at the hole in his shirt to get a better look at the blade impaled into him. He willed away the flinch that threatened his spine, swallowing his grunt as he felt the weapon shift inside of him.

"Let me fix that," She murmured, so quietly Shisui almost hadn't caught it. He could see her peering up at him from his peripherals, but he refused to look away from Deidara. He couldn't.

Picking up the light growl that rumbled in Haruno's chest, Shisui jerked his head in the direction of his squad. "Later. My team first." He felt her stiffen beside him, perhaps so she could argue with him, but then Haruno pulled away.

Chapter Text

Sakura wouldn't say she was the most patient person in the world, but neither would she say she deserved the title of the most impatient, either.

As a medical professional, she had to have a certain level of forbearance when it came to others. And having Naruto, Sasuke and Sai as teammates trained her to ignore the urge to stomp around and scream—well, most of the time. But that being besides the point, her squad—Kakashi-sensei, Obito-senpai and Yamato-taichou included—could attest to just how patient she could be.

But as Sakura stood in her kitchen, rubbing absentmindedly at her stiff shoulders, she couldn't help but growl to herself in frustration.

The rhythmic titter of the living room clock was beginning to ebb away at her composure, mocking her with vigor as she involuntarily counted the minutes ticking by. Every bit of her ached, from the crests of her shoulders, to the swell of her hips, and the backs of her calves, despite the hour-long soak she had in the tub just minutes ago. She could've healed the indigo bruising smattering her forearms and the lingering pain from where she had hand-stitched her injuries, but her chakra was still a little too low for comfort, and doing so would've tired her out even more.

Bracing her hands against the edge of the counter, Sakura bowed forward, stretching out her back, head dipping down. She twisted her hips until they popped, then rolled her shoulders with a relieved exhale.

She winced as the remnants of a particularly nasty, but mostly healed laceration below her left breast pulled taunt—her mentor's reminder as to why evasion was so important.

Once she had worked out the kinks in her back, Sakura returned to her original position with her elbows propped against the counter and hands combing through her damp locks. Tiredly, she reached for the saucer of sake waiting for her and threw it back in one go, sighing contentedly as the creamy liquor soothed her throat. She should've been in bed, curled up in the sheets and lost to the world, because everything hurt and she was so, so tired; but when she laid her head down to sleep, her thoughts had drifted back to the forest.

Flashback

The next two and a half days flew by much faster than expected, and while Sakura wouldn't quite say it was with a heavy heart that she and her team would be parting ways with the Iwa group, she would admit that she did feel it was too early to leave them. Deidara's injuries weren't even remotely close to being considered treated. His burns, while healed, left his fresh skin tender and was susceptible to irritation, and even though the poison had been extracted from him, the lingering traces of it—the nausea, the dizziness, fatigue—remained, and would continue to for another two or three days at the very least. His teammates were also still recovering from their own fits of dehydration, and as much as Sakura wanted to trust that they'd follow their aftercare instructions, she knew that two of the three Iwa-nin were too bull-headed to care.

It was an unfortunate truth, but the moment their groups separated, it would no longer be her problem to worry about.

Still, she hated leaving patients half cared for. It made her work appear sloppy and half-assed, as if she didn't care about every single person she treated. It made for a poor reflection of her as a medic, of her as the Hokage's apprentice, and of Tsunade in general.

She wanted to stay an extra day to do a bit more hands-on work with Deidara, or at least, wait to leave until morning, when the mist had lightened, but Okami-taichou insisted that they were due back, and Deidara didn't seem to care either way. Or so he tried to lead on. The blond had waved them off over dinner, stating his team had planned on leaving anyway once they finished with the rabbit they were digging into, and his act of indifference was so believable, she almost bought it. But Sakura heard the annoyance in his voice when he dismissed Okami, saw the way he regarded her with a touch of consideration and a pulsing in his jaw. But he also didn't say anything about it to her.

She wouldn't say the two of them had become best friends or anything. They may have gotten about as close as two enemy ninja could get, seeing as how he didn't seem to mind pushing her back and making snide comments about her village, but there was certainly a change in their relationship. He clearly held some semblance of respect for her. She saw it in the way he'd silently listen in on Kurotsuchi's complaints, but would be quick to admonish her the moment the dark haired kunoichi said anything particularly rude about her or Tsunade. Any comments he had about Konoha or even about the Anbu squad that surrounded them (which was many), he freely spouted, but he never had anything to say about her or her mistress. Sakura supposed it was because as a Kage's apprentice himself, he recognized that she wouldn't tolerate anything said about the Hokage, or because any wrong word could potentially lead to another war between their nations; or maybe it was because in a way, their relationships with their mentors bound them together.

Whatever the reason, Sakura was thankful for their mutual understanding, because she really didn't have the patience to deal with him otherwise.

It wasn't that Deidara was a nuisance to be around, or anything. Sure, he seemed easily annoyed and a little too concerned about appearances (both his, and that of his village), and he was dangerously close to rude, often times giving his opinion on just about anything and everything; but he was an interesting character. He was very proud of his village and his heritage, as proven by the braid loosely woven into the side of his head and the bold, insular knots embroidered at the hems of his clothes. And according to Akatsuchi, Deidara was a skilled player of Tsuchigakure's illustrious horse-head fiddle, able to play its strings into the sound of a horse's whinny. All in all, the blond genuinely seemed to enjoy the reactions and emotions of others, studying them the way an artist would their newest masterpiece, which was probably why he purposely annoyed everyone every now and then.

So as Sakura fastened her cloak around her chest and adjusted her pouches on her hips one last time, idly listening to Okami relay their travel formation with his squad, she was only obscurely unsettled when the team of Iwa-nin actually approached her.

"Oi, Haruno," Deidara called, prompting her to turn around.

From her peripherals, she noticed the minute stiffening of Okami's silhouette and the twist of the shadows that stretched across his mask, but beyond that, he didn't so much as skip a breath in his speech. Still, Sakura knew he was watching her. He was always watching her, because for some reason, the Anbu Captain did not like Deidara.

The tension between the two of them had been suffocatingly thick these past few days, more so than when they all first met, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but some insanely dangerous part of her liked how riled up her captain had become. When Deidara turned his attention to her, Okami-taichou made a point to brush his shoulder against hers as he walked by, the knuckles of his fingers grazing against her side, her arm, the underside of her wrist. Or when she knelt over Deidara, hands aglow with soothing chakra, running over the scars carved into his skin, Sakura felt the sharp smolder of Okami's gaze on the back of her neck, trailing feather-light kisses along her shoulders and whispering promises against her skin.

The sheer possessiveness her captain displayed for her, made Sakura feel incredible.

She liked his attention—loved it, actually—because whenever she did catch his gaze, the grin painted on his mask would sharpen into something absolutely carnal, and it made her stomach flutter with the anticipation of what was to come.

Crossing her arms to hide her growing titillation, Sakura shifted her weight to her right leg. "What, Deidara?"

He shuffled on his feet, his jaw clenched and his glare looking everywhere but at her. He reached for his hair, likely out of habit, and traced his fingers along the braid nestled in it. Then, after an almost awkward moment of fidgeting, Deidara finally raised his hands and balled them; he pressed the knuckles of his fists together, fingers facing him and elbows locked, then bowed with his gaze to the ground—a formal gesture of Iwagakure. Akatsuchi mimicked him, and when Kurotsuchi made no move to budge, Deidara reached up and clutched the kunoichi's vest, forcing her into a crumpled semblance of a bow despite her indignant huff.

"Thank you for your assistance, hmm," He grunted as he straightened to full height.

Had she been expecting that, Sakura would've snickered at how uncomfortable he appeared and waved him off, but since she didn't, all she managed to do was falter over her words. "Y-yeah—you're welcome."

The blond clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes before outstretching his arm—the sleeved one—towards her. Sakura hesitated, a suspicious glance flickering from Deidara's proffered hand to his face, but at the insistent jerking of his arm, she took it, only to find the body of a scroll separating their palms. She enclosed her fingers around it, but didn't pull away; he didn't either.

"So the rest of the flock doesn't bother you. You know, in case you're ever in my neighborhood," He simply said, his tone just as pedestrian as usual. Deidara released the scroll at her nod, then began walking away, only to halt a few steps out. He turned back to her with an appraising glint in his visible stormy eye. "The Tsuchikage will remember this, hmm."

A smirk tugged at Sakura's lips as she studied the bronze spades at the ends of the scroll, her thumb running over the ocean blue cord that sealed it. She considered thanking him, but knew Deidara would just dismiss it with a grimace, so she instead teased him, "Don't think that this means I'm paying for your drink."

He scoffed, "Cute." He went on to say something else—"If anything, you owe me a little more than a drink, birdie."—but his eyes flickered away, glancing at something a ways behind her, before returning to her a little more narrowed. Sakura resisted the urge to tense, slowly but casually depositing the scroll into her right pouch. Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi had backed off a fair distance from them, looking every bit as indifferent as they had been, if not slightly more focused. Behind her, Sakura could vaguely hear the gradual shift in her Anbu squad's movements as their light footsteps gradually turned silent.

Lifting her chin, Sakura inhaled through her nose, the edge of her tongue pressing against her upper lip.

Her lips tasted like blood.

Cobalt orbs met hers then, conveying a silent message that the haze obscured. He dipped his head slightly, raising a hand to push away the bangs that curtained his face, and with that movement, the mouth on his palm parted and expelled what appeared to be a handful of tiny cranes. At the same time, Sakura pinched her knuckles around a few shuriken; she held her breath, counting, waiting, and then, as if in sync, Sakura planted her left hand on Deidara's shoulder, pushing him aside whilst pitching a flurry of shuriken while he released his birds.

The songs of battle drummed around her in the forms of sword against sword and struggles in dirt. Her shuriken made a home in an unknown nin's chest, downing him and hindering another, while small explosions nipped at the back of her neck. The ground rattled as stone spikes erupted from the ground around Kurotsuchi while Akatsuchi used Doton to swallow their attackers down to the neck. Genjutsu scented the air, glittering like threads of silk so thick, Sakura could snap them with her fingers.

Twirling on her heel to avoid an enemy's kunai, Sakura caught a glance of Nezumi and Inu engaging three shinobi in blue cloaks; she plucked the knife midair then fired it into the neck of a kunoichi that tried to get the jump on them. She didn't see Okami or Kitsune, but the whir of wire and the falling tree branches told her they were high in the trees.

A body suddenly appeared before her, proudly sporting gray and blue—Kiri again?

Taking a step back, Sakura jerked her head to the right to dodge the fist aimed at her face, then lifted the foot closest to her enemy, hooking it around his ankle and making him stumble. She spun on her heel, taking the man by the back of the neck, and flung him backwards onto the ground so fast, that the rest of his body flailed to keep up even as he hit the ground. Before he could even make an attempt to get up, Sakura delivered a swift kick to his head, knocking him out with a grunt.

"On your six!"

A clay bird zipped over her shoulder, its wings fluttering against her cheek tauntingly. The creation smacked into the face of the man behind her and adhered to it, swallowing his panicked shouts. The man clawed at his face, trying desperately to scrape the sticky bird from his person as he stumbled back against his partner, and with a single seal from Deidara, the bird detonated, ensnaring both shinobi in its carnage. Tossing a glance at Deidara, Sakura nodded in thanks; he acknowledged it with a huff and set off another explosion all the way across the remnants of their camp, disappearing into the resulting smoke.

"Haruno!" Hearing her name, Sakura whirled around. Kitsune dropped down beside her with his tanto, dripping with blood, drawn before him. "Stay close."

She ducked beneath another shinobi's incoming punch whilst pushing it to the side with her left hand; she twisted her wrist so she could grip the man's arm, whipping him around just as Kitsune angled his tanto sideways, impaling the man through the throat. "Right, because I was totally going to wander off," She huffed, haughtily.

Using his foot to dislodge his sword from the gurgling Kiri-nin while also placing himself between Sakura and a kunoichi with a sword, Kitsune grunted but didn't respond to her sarcasm. There were twelve enemies darting around the clearing, five of which wielded swords, outnumbering their combined team of eight. Two of them worked in tandem, their katanas connected by a long, barbed chain that they used to try to entrap Deidara with while three attacked Akatsuchi in sporadic, unorganized movements and a kunoichi took on Kurotsuchi. Nezumi and Inu had disappeared, most likely joining Okami in the trees, leaving two bodies behind in their stead.

"Let's go!"

A powerful burst of chakra reverberated through the clearing, whipping at her back and seeping into her clothes like a torrential rain. She whirled around with a stumble just as a large white owl appeared in a suffocatingly thick plume of smoke, crushing a Kiri-nin that couldn't scramble away fast enough beneath its weight. Deidara hopped onto the creature, a hand reaching out to help Kurotsuchi onboard while Akatsuchi leapt onto the bird's back. Mighty wings flapped, causing all of the shinobi surrounding it stumbling, and then it rose high into the air, disappearing into the sky moments later.

"Those fuckers ditched us," Sakura hissed to herself as Kitsune steadied her on her feet just as Inu, Nezumi and Okami appeared. They surrounded her the way they would the Hokage, their backs pressing against her shoulders and the mountains of her fists, creating a barricade that not even the wind could get through, and it would've been a lie if she said a small part of her didn't enjoy the way it made her feel.

"Are you really that surprised?" She heard Inu grumble from her right, the full-length katana in his hand twirling over his wrist in anticipation.

"Quiet," Okami, who took up her immediate front, hissed, stepping back a little closer into her form as the Mist-nin slowly stalked towards them. She couldn't hear everything the surrounding shinobi said, but from what Sakura could make out, Deidara and Kurotsuchi had been their initial targets—"But the Hokage's apprentice will have to do."

End Flashback

There was something so incredibly gratifying in knowing he had pretty, little Haruno Sakura so wound up.

Seeing her shuffle around her kitchen in faux indifference, acting as if she wasn't anxiously waiting for him to appear—waiting for him to fuck her—was every bit as amusing as it was flattering. So for a while, he just watched.

He watched as she poured herself another shot, idly swirling the sake dish a few times before bringing it to her lips, and wondered what mint she would taste like. He watched as she bowed over the counter again, her fingers swimming through her hair in a way that conveyed her building frustration, and when she tugged at her own locks, groaning, Shisui fought to resist the shiver that clawed at his back.

His stomach fluttered as he studied the incurve of Haruno's hips, imagined his fingers painting violets into them. In a few minutes, it would be his hand combing through those petal pink strands, his hips pressed against hers—his cock in her mouth—all while she peered up at him with those salacious wildfires she called eyes. Absently, Shisui's arm shifted on its perch above his knee, and he lazily ran a hand along the front of his pants. His member twitched in response to his light touch, coaxing a huffed breath past his lips, so he gripped himself a little more firmly, picturing her more feminine fingers in place of his own.

He let his lashes lower with a broken sigh, lower lip taken by his teeth, and replayed every single moan he had tore from her, reimagined every mile of land she had demolished and every bone she broke with those disceptively dainty hands.

Flashback

Shisui had always respected the ninja born out of Kirigakure.

They were beastly opponents with insatiable appetites for death. And they were tough—and he meant tough, not in the way the Iwa sheep liked to think themselves—and bloodthirsty, resilient. They weren't the type to back down from a fight regardless of their opponent, even if it was the most logical thing to do, and it was that perverse resilience that made them a real pain in the ass. Sure, they weren't exactly the sharpest kunai in the set, and they didn't have much control over their tongues, but those were all things he could look past.

What he couldn't look past, however, was the arrogantly callous way the pair with the cropped, white hair and lilac eyes regarded Haruno—as if she were second best. And to the Tsuchikage's apprentice, no less!

Initially, Shisui was going to send her off or teleport her away from the battle, but after that comment, well, who was he to stand in the way of a woman and her honor? She was the Hokage's apprentice, her legacy, and the disciple of their village's next leader. By that description alone, Haruno was considered one of the village's most important citizens. So to brush her off as something lowly, was a fucking insult to her, their Hokage, and to him.

One look at Haruno's miffed reflection in his sword told him she wouldn't have left without a fight, anyway.

He would give it to them though—they nearly caught him off guard. Normally, such a heavy fog would've been a dead giveaway to their appearance, but as luck would have it, the forecast called for a bit of gloom. If not for the fact that the mist born out of Kirigakure tasted like blood and betrayal waiting to happen, Shisui might have never noticed.

He clicked his tongue in frustration. A mist this dense could only be the work of a Swordsman.

"Ah, so you're the one who roughed up Kisame-senpai," One of the brothers appraised, hefting his massive broadsword over his shoulder. "I heard you killed Zabuza-senpai, too, a long time ago."

The second brother rose from his crouched position, mirroring the first in stance but still retaining an admiring glance over Haruno. "Suigetsu, stay focused."

Hearing the name, Shisui silently cursed to himself. Suigetsu was an accomplished member of Kirgakure's elite squad of Swordsmen, apparently possessing a unique Kekkei Genkai that proved to be quite an annoyance on the battlefield, and if he was here, that meant the other Swordsman was his elder, even more formidable brother, Mangetsu.

Everyone knew one Swordsman was a challenge. Two was a death wish.

Harrumphing, Suigetsu reached for the canteen secured to his hip, then began swirling it with a loose wrist. "Lighten up, Aniki. I wasn't going to kill her. I have more restraint than that," He admonished, rolling his eyes and moving to take a large gulp of his bottle. He paused just as the rim of his canteen pressed against his lips, and his eyes took on a feral, cat-like sharpness that made chills wind up the fissures of Shisui's spine. "I was just going to take one of her arms."

Barring his teeth, Shisui inwardly scoffed. He'd like to see that Cod try.

He felt Haruno shift behind him, straightening out of her defensive stance and cocking a hip. His heart sped up in anticipation as he felt her chakra roiling with warning, seeping deeply into the ground and twisting into the mist. It was filled with such surprisingly dark intent, and when Shisui drew his tongue across his lips, he could taste the displeasure that darkened her aura. But unlike the last time she flared her chakra, her wrath was unrestrained and genuine, powerful even without the strength of her seal.

"Come and try it," Haruno goaded, punching her right fist into her palm. And with the impact of the gesture, her chakra exploded, lashing out at his skin and tangling in his hair, coaxing his chakra into dancing with hers.

The Kiri-nin stood in place for a breath, forefronted by the white-haired brothers who seemed to be calculating their chances or conjuring up a strategy with a shared, pleased glance. Their heads canted to the side in an eerie sync, tongues drawing over the points of their teeth in taunt. Then, slowly, the pair took a few, confident steps back, completely melting into the miasma, followed soon after by the rest of their gam.

For a whole, uneasy minute, all was still, tense, silent—the perfect hunting grounds for sharks.

Warily, Shisui encouraged his chakra to seep into the mist but before it could intertwine with the air, he felt it—the mocking caress of wind against blade.

Shisui brought his tanto up, turning it sideways and bracing the edge of the blade against his left palm to block a katana from above, then sent his enemy stumbling back with a strong push kick to the stomach. He adjusted his grip on his sword, rotating it into a reverse hold, then back-slashed at the nin, who shrugged back. He twirled his sword back over his wrist, blade out and fingers towards him, his left hand set against the kashira, then drove it into the shinobi's shoulder.

Manicured nails licked at the back of his neck, coaxing a soft breath of surprise from his lungs, and then Shisui felt the collar of his shirt tug against his throat, guiding him a step back just as a shuriken carved into the snout of his mask. Instinctively, he plucked the well-camouflaged, metal star from the air and whirled around to pitch the weapon over Haruno's shoulder, indifferent over whether or not it made a home in someone.

Even though the contact hardly lasted longer than a second, and even as the battle raged on around him, gradually pulling his squad away from his immediate reach, Shisui could feel the warm prickle of Haruno's chakra seeping into his skin, nipping at the base of his neck and murmuring impish promises along his spine. It wasn't intentional, he knew—just residual, untamed chakra that spilled out without her permission, but perhaps it was that raw candidness that made her touch all the more endearing? With the softest purr he could manage, Shisui sunk his teeth into his lower lip in response to the familiar heat that pooled below his navel, not exactly unwelcome, but troublesome at the very least.

A ringed katana dug into the bracer of his left arm next, opening up his opponent's guard just enough for Shisui to drive his tanto into his chest. As he removed his blade, Shisui loosened his grip, making his weapon swing down and back into a reverse position, smoothly and abruptly lodging into the lower back of the Kiri-nin Haruno had shoved towards him. She yanked the man off of his sword, tossed him across the field as if he were little more than an ill-placed pebble, then with one rough—"Jump!"—in warning, her fist sunk into the ground.

All at once, Shisui felt her chakra fertilize the soil, coating every thread of grass and every fallen pine cone in pure, destructive chakra; and it rippled, menacingly vibrating beneath his feet in that split second before he leapt. He only had moments to trill to his team, but admittedly, all of his attention was on Haruno—on the satisfied smirk that tugged at the edge of her lips and the pleased pep in her step as the earth blossomed around her.

But as much as Shisui would've loved to watch her take control of the land and make those Codfish choke on their words, he had a job to do.

And he wasn't about to miss out on the opportunity to dance with Jonin Haruno.

He launched his tanto in the medic's direction, spearing it into the ground at her feet. His fingers fluidly moved through a series of seals, evoking a different, but similarly comfortable river of fire in his navel. It unfurled within him, floating up the fissures of his spine and curling around in his chest. His shoulders stiffened, his spine curved back, and then flames bloomed from the snarling maw of his mask. Wild at first, the golden inferno screeched, illuminating the darkness of the sky and licking at the tips of his fingers as he fought to tame its feral dance, until it finally wove under the spell it was sparked into.

An ophidian dragon roared, its long barbels flittering and dripping molten emerald-tinged droplets, and fiery claws digging into into what remained of the ground as it gracefully serpentined its way through the clearing, setting everything it touched ablaze. Uncaring for his creature's raging warpath, Shisui dropped back into place beside the rosette, arm raised to guard against yet another sword just as it came down upon her from the right. Almost immediately, the flat of her boot pressed against his left hip, using him as a foothold so she could vault off of him and into the arms of her enemy. She hooked her knee around his arm and grasped his neck with the crook of her elbow, using the momentum to take him down to the ground and snapping his neck with the abrupt jerk of her arm.

At the same time, Shisui knocked his opponent away with a push-kick to the chest, then followed up with a series of jabs, skirting under the notched blade that cleaved away at him. He batted the weapon away with the backs of his bracers, allowing it to carve its taunts into the metal, and bypassed the swordsman's guard with a quick succession of elbows to the chest. Finally, Shisui slammed a palm into his throat, sprinting back towards Haruno without waiting for the choking shinobi to recover.

He could feel the faint pulsations of her chakra with every punch she fired and every kick she executed, brushing against his skin so lightly, that he could have mistook it for the wind. And each time she got a little too close, and he had to duck away to avoid the friendly fire, he could vaguely feel his chakra reacting to hers, seeking her out without his permission.

But then the aroused spell was broken by the cascading rain that blanketed the night with an extra layer of oppressing darkness. Only the flames of his roaring dragon remained to guide them, but a minute later, that too sizzled out, along with the warmth of Haruno's chakra. Clicking his tongue, Shisui encouraged his Sharingan to activate, only for the red sheen of his vision to fade away within a blink, and for a moment, he panicked. His eyes shot towards his teammates where he saw the quick scarlet flicker of their own Sharingan dying away. Experimentally, he formed a few seals for another fire technique, but the flames that he summoned hardly burnished brighter than that of a match before dying out completely.

He tsk'ed. Kirisame—one of Kirigakure's more annoying hidden techniques—was able to absorb the chakra of anyone caught in it, which meant that Ninjutsu and Genjutsu weren't viable options for him. However, that also meant that the Kiri-nin wouldn't be able to utilize them much either.

And unfortunately for those Kiri-nin, his squad wasn't chakra reliant.

The clinking of metal caught his attention then, and when he canted his head towards Haruno, his lips quirked into the beginnings of a grin. "You're not going to dismiss me again, are you, Taichou?" She asked, with a challenging lilt to her tone that summoned a bark of a laugh from his throat. Glinting steel was curled around her right fist, limp in her left. She whisked the chain, maneuvering on her feet in a way that made the weapon flick out towards him. He caught it at the tail end of its swing, wrapping it around his knuckles and giving an impish, but meaningful, tug.

Feeling a little daring himself, Shisui cast a cautious glance at his teammates, considering the distance between them, then lowly purred, "Not if you can keep up, Haruno."

"I don't need chakra to use my strength," She hummed in response, rolling her head from side to side with a menacing crack. "And I don't need chakra to kick their asses."

Shisui grinned beneath his mask as the aroused embers in his stomach flashed again, compounding into tightly wound coils, then rolled his shoulders in anticipation. He adjusted his stance into something wider, more stable, and with one transitory, affirming glance, Shisui pivoted on his feet, casting her out and away from him, using her as his weapon.

Haruno rammed her shoulder into the chest of their next opponent: Suigetsu. Not having expected her to have noticed him, Suigetsu hummed appraisingly and sheathed the blade of his sword into the earth to keep himself upright. Sprinting forward, Shisui pushed Haruno's shoulders down and rolled over her back, stealthily fishing a kunai from her pouch, and delivered a forward roundhouse that sent the Swordsman stumbling back. He flickered behind Suigetsu, fisting the back of his vest and instinctively pitching the stolen kunai to deflect one flying towards Itachi. Haruno darted forward and past the nin, her kusari-fundo pulled taunt. Noticing, Shisui secured his end of the chain around his elbow, then kicked Suigetsu's knee out from under him, allowing the chain to catch against his throat. Suigetsu's hands shot up to his neck, nails digging at the chain but he and Sakura strained against him, refusing to give him an edge.

But then Suigetu's struggling ceased all at once, his hands dropping to his sides, then he grinned, proudly displaying his sharp teeth. "Well that could've been bad," He taunted as the chain phased through his skin. Suigetsu twisted on his knees and raised his arm towards Haruno, thumb and forefinger extended. His arm jerked, wrist locked and fingers twitching, then water shot from his fingertip.

Thinking quickly, Shisui whipped the chain forward, launching Haruno away just as some upturned shards of earth ruptured in her place. He clicked his tongue, shifting to accommodate the tug of the kusari as his partner came to a stop behind him. In those few moments, Suigetsu managed to reclaim his Kubikiribocho and was rushing him again, but this time, with more fervor.

Shisui deftly wove in and out of Suigetsu's attacks, shrugging back and twisting, relying on the muscle memory of all the battles recorded by his Sharingan to keep him uninjured. Feeling a major slack in the chain, Shisui bowed forward, ducking the wide back-swing of Suigetsu's next strike, allowing Haruno to vault over his back. The brief weight of her hand against the shoulder of his armor stroked something dangerous within him, something absolutely primal that only grew more incensed as the Cod stumbled back from her unexpected kick. As soon as she had rooted herself, Haruno spun on her heel, stringing along a back-kick that Suigetsu blocked with the flat of his blade.

And when Haruno said she didn't need her chakra to use her strength, she wasn't lying.

While nowhere near as devastating as what he had seen from her before, her kick made the steel crack upon impact—a feat that made Suigetsu curse—"Oh shit!"—and put distance between them. Unwilling to let Suigetsu move any further, Shisui forced his chakra into a flicker, appearing on the other side of the Swordsman and tugging Haruno forward. Suigetsu positioned the blunt edge of Kubikiribocho against the back of his neck and twisted on his heels, dropping to his knees and re-extending his sword at the tail end of his spin so Shisui couldn't get close, and so he could brace his blade against his palm, forcing Haruno to coat the soles of her boots in chakra as she landed on its edge.

She kicked off of the weapon with a grunt, releasing a shaky breath as what little chakra she likely had left immediately melted away.

Ignoring the reprimanding burn of his chakra, Shisui flickered behind her before she could stumble. He wrapped an arm around her waist, maneuvering her behind him to block the powerful, downwards strike of Suigetsu's sword with his bracer, then dove under the next swing so he was behind him once again. In concert, the two of them stitched combinations together, forcing Suigetsu into more defensive maneuvers, using the kusari to keep one another so close, that he couldn't extend for a swing, as well as pull each other out of the way when he did manage to break through their strategy.

And while there were clear flaws in their teamwork, Shisui had to admit that it was so easy to fall in place beside Haruno. They moved well together, complimented each other's movements and dancing in and out of divagated sword strikes and daggers from both comrade and enemy alike, but somehow still managed to find one another through the chaos.

He met her eyes then—tempered steel melting against malachite—and for the briefest of moments, he saw the beginnings of an intoxicated wildfire and barbed innuendos. Her thumb flicked kittenishly against the tip of her nose, her forward hand waving at the furious Suigetsu in challenge—and fuck did it make his chest tighten.

Maybe it was the thrill of the fight that riled him up so much, because seeing her slip into Suigetu's guard, her thighs locked tight around his neck, it shouldn't have made his cock twitch. But it did.

And when she found her way to his abandoned tanto, used it to carve a bloody mess into the Kiri-nin's thigh, it shouldn't have made him want to pick her up and push her against a tree, ravish her throat with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. But it did.

And when she leapt off of Suigetsu's sword, impaling his tanto into the ground beside him so he could pick it back up, he shouldn't have wanted to reward her—to tangle his fingers in those pretty, pink locks of hers and pull, just the way she liked.

He was so hard for her right now, and that shouldn't have even been a thing because the line between work and foreplay was gradually becoming a fine one. But it was.

And honestly, he didn't completely mind.

End Flashback

It was when she jumped onto the counter, that he finally appeared.

She hadn't even completely settled onto it before she felt his hips between her knees, his fingers bearing purchase at the back of her neck and—her breath shattered.

He was already hard for her.

"You're late, Taichou," She chastised, teasing in how she curled her tongue around his rank, yet already breathless.

Behind the mask, Shisui huffed with laughter, twisting her hair around his knuckles and yanking in reprimand. "I'm a busy man, Haruno."

She responded with a snort, but didn't comment on it further, too engrossed in the thumb that rubbed soothing circles into the nape of her neck. Sakura canted her head back, gazing at the Anbu Captain with caliginous eyes so full of unfiltered want, wordlessly challenging him with the edge of her tongue against her lips.

At the kittenish display, Shisui growled, lowly, his hips rolling against her thigh with intent. "Remember that you started this, Sakura." Her name rolled off of his tongue pleasantly, and he reveled in the way her lusty gaze glittered with approval. "You say red," He paused, the fingers of his other hand feathering up her thigh, her hips, her arms, evoking goosebumps along her skin. "And this stops."

Sakura hummed in response, more focused on entangling her fingers in his inky curls. She tugged, roughly, greedily, making him grunt and tilt his head back to accommodate, but he didn't mind.

Fuck, he didn't mind at all.

"You say yellow," Shisui slipped his hand beneath the hem of her top, stroking just above her hips with the backs of his knuckles. He met her eyes, biting down on his lower lip as he caught the dark starlight in her stare. "I'll back off."

He made a show of things, reaching into his pouch and fishing out a slip of paper detailed with seals. He slapped it into the counter beside her, smoothed it out with slow, meaningful strokes, then formed a lightning seal—a sound suppressor.

Shisui snapped his hips forward, grinding against the heat between her thighs with a wicked smirk. "I want to hear every little sound you make. Do I make myself clear?"

Sakura reached for his vest with a hum, curling her fingers around the straps over his shoulders; she gripped them tightly and yanked on them, forcing him to stumble into her. Shisui grunted less at the roughness, and more so at the undeniable throbbing of his cock. He'd been waiting for this—dreaming of this—for far too long.

"Say it."

Her responding, drawn out moan—"Yes, Taichou."—was devastating.

He took hold of her hips with bruising force, then pulled her to the edge of the counter, groaning in encouragement when he felt her knees tighten against his waist; and once he had all of her against all of him, he lifted his mask just enough to purr into the underside of her jaw, "Good girl."

Chapter Text

Shisui didn't like to think himself the selfish type—at least, not since his Genin days.

Years of bloodshed and covert atrocities should have made him a little more greedy with his wants, as it did with most of his colleagues, but it only made him all the more appreciative of what he had, made him want to live in the moment rather than seek out something more. That said, having spent so many years in Anbu, traveling to so many beautiful places and seeing millions of brilliant sunsets, the splendor of the world had lost its charm. What was once a hundred shades of sky, became five types of blue and two types of red, with overbearing charcoal undertones.

And he was okay with that.

But as he felt Haruno—no, Sakura, he corrected—tremble against him, her knuckles draining of their color and her breath morphing into a heady moan, Shisui wanted nothing more than to taste and devour and feel every bit of her. Right here—on the counter, against the wall, in every room of her fucking apartment, make it so every inch of her home made her think of him.

And only him.

Sakura released the straps of his vest, opting to trace the length of fabric from his shoulders down to his chest. Her touch was sure, teasing, practiced as she impishly thumbed the cinches to his armor, so he rewarded her teasing with an encouraging nip to the clavicle. There was a heat beneath her fingertips, a soft, minty kind that just barely breached the surface of his skin and evoked memories of the last time he felt it.

Memories of her chakra washing along his muscles, kneading, while she leaned back and smirked at him.

Of her nails raking against his back, her knuckles rolling against his skin.

Of her bent over that table in T&I.

Of her fingers leaving near-invisible indentations in the steel, with that sparkling fire in her gaze.

The recollection alone made his cock throb, demanding to be let free. He adjusted his growing erection, guiding the clothed head to press roughly into the heat between her legs and—oh fuck, she was already wet.

Sakura's chakra leaked into his chest with a searing languor that slackened his spine and licked at the arousal burning in his sternum, and before he could swallow it, Shisui moaned into her neck. There was a stutter in her chakra at the sound, a minuscule lapse in the soothing swirls of her caress that nearly devastated him. Humming appreciatively, Shisui smoothed his gloved palms up and down her thighs, gripping, tangling his fingers into the fabric of her shorts, then skimmed along the waistband. His fingers dipped beneath them, feeling for her panty line but finding none.

He tensed against her, hips rolling into hers approvingly. "You want me to fuck you that bad, Jonin Haruno?" Shisui groaned into her throat, sure to rut against her again, his digits teasing her waistband, grinding as roughly as he could.

With one meaningful click, the weight of his armor abruptly disappeared from his shoulders and fell into a haphazard pile around his feet, leaving him in the black under-armor top he had changed into. Her nails combed through his curls then, starting from the side of his ear and ending at the nape, where she drew circles into his skin and pulsed chakra directly into his spine.

"Yes, Taichou," She husked.

At her admission, Shisui grinned. He lowered his mask back into place, took a step back, and loosened the knot to his pants.

"Prove it."

Kamen

There was something in Okami-taichou's timbre, low and husky as it was—a certain inflection that burrowed into her skin and gripped her soul, intoxicating her to the point of breathlessness. It taunted the already infuriated fire that smoldered below her navel and did things to her that Sakura never thought a man's voice ever could.

She slipped off of the counter, expressly mindful in keeping their gazes locked even as she lowered to her knees. She drew her palms down the Anbu Captain's chest, grazing her nails against his nipples like she knew he'd like, and down his abdomen, below his navel, until there was nowhere left for her to go.

She pressed meaningful kisses to the bulge that overlooked her, canting her head so she could test the width of his member with an open mouthed kiss. Okami hummed, his hand moving to card through her hair in a way that was all affection; then he traced the cut of her jaw to the seam of her lips. His thumb lingered, pressing gently on her lower lip until they parted, but he did little more than graze the edge of her teeth in silent praise.

Ignoring the excited thundering of her heartbeat, Sakura dipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, teasing the lines of his hips with a whisper of chakra, then pulled until his cock sprang free. The sight of him, hard and thick and beading with arousal just for her, made Sakura's chest hollow—sent another degree of heat through her, dribbling into her wingbones in a way that made her melt. Okami peered down at her, caliginous eyes bright with anticipation and free hand coming to encircle his manhood. He stroked the length of his arousal once, twice, then positioned its head against her lips.

Sakura drew circles on his pelvis, her touch firm with warning and her gaze sharp but her tongue extended in invitation. Then, she slowly encircled him, one finger at a time, so gently that the muscles in Okami's abdomen rippled. She idly slid her thumb along the tip, smearing the sheen of pre-cum as it wept from him, then traced the thick vein that wound beneath his length—all while he sat on the tip of her tongue.

And oh fuck did he taste good.

Okami shifted on his feet, his breath stalling and his fingers twitching against her scalp in response to her tortuously gentle touch. He gripped the base of his shaft and stroked himself with short but quick pumps—just enough to make up for Sakura's teasing. And she allowed it.

For now.

With one last glance at the mask wolfishly grinning down at her, Sakura summoned chakra to her fingertips again and took an inch of him into her mouth.

"Oh fuck! "

She started slowly; ghosting the flat of her tongue against his head while her chakra-dusted fingertips glided up his length, then licked at its seam to get another taste of what he had to give. Okami grunted at her teasing pace, the knuckles in her petal locks tightening momentarily before loosening and combing through again.

"A-ah, just like that," Okami whispered blissfully, "Just like that..."

She played with him for a while; eased her mouth over his head the way she would his lips—with tongue and lips and a kittenish suck. She painted her name against the underside of his cock, ran her thumb against the base of him so delicately that his thighs quaked, and it earned Sakura a moan that dripped with so much carnality, she quivered.

And Okami took it with tensing muscles and trembling hands.

Wetting her lips, Sakura shifted on her knees so she could reach lower. She cupped his balls, her lashes fluttering at the aroused hiss Okami emitted, then placed playful kisses to the crease of his thigh, before finally drawing her tongue against the sensitive skin. Okami grunted at the soft touch, his knee jerking slightly; but she didn't stop. She sucked gently, carefully; licking and kissing as high up as the base of his shaft while she dusted her chakra along the overly sensitive seam between them. His abdomen spasmed, body stiffening but then slackening while he pulled on her hair so hard, Sakura jerked back.

His chakra lashed out at her then, curling around her neck and caressing her cheeks, rubbing at the backs of her ears. It felt like lightning, like the flames of a thousand suns and it burned pleasantly down her throat.

His intent was palpable, conveying without words every little thing he wanted to do to her.

And every little thing he wanted her to do to him.

Okami adjusted his hold on her hair, winding their tails around his knuckles for a better grip, but tenderly brushed his palm against her cheeks as if in apology. He tugged again, this time a little less forcefully but with just as much fervor. And he growled, "Do that again."

And she did, with a chuckled, "Yes, Taichou."

The image he made—head dropped back and armor glinting, mask leering over her, his cock in her mouth—sent sharp jolts of molten pleasure raking up and down Sakura's spine. It gave her a different sort of rush that settled sweetly on her tongue and compounded the pressure within her stomach. She wanted to remember him just like this. She wanted to ingrain this image into her memory, wanted to replay his sharp pants and broken moans every single night.

After a few moments of experimental tasting, Sakura went a little lower, taking more of him into her mouth and sealing her lips around his girth, before finally, finally swallowing him to the hilt. Okami choked on a curse at her abrupt shift in movement, his shoulders swaying and his free hand moving to card through his own hair.

"That's it," He cooed, guiding his hips into a shallow thrust. "All the way in…good girl."

Hunger breathed kisses down her spine then, beginning at her tailbone and traveling sinfully slow to the edge of her hairline. Sakura didn't wait for him to adjust, vigorously bobbing, taking him with a ferocity that had Okami breathless. Not that he seemed to mind. His hand began piloting her now, pulling her closer as he carefully quickened the infliction of his hips. She alternated between slow, deliberate licks to the side of his cock and rapid, hollow-cheeked sucks, loosely twisting her hand around whatever her mouth didn't reach. And every now and then, when she was feeling generous, she let more of her chakra trickle out, making the masked man groan and buck into her with a vengeance.

And she loved it.

She loved how tentative he was in his roughness, how he soothed her with his filthy promises when he yanked on her hair too aggressively, and rubbed that spot at the back of her neck. He didn't treat her as if she would break under his touch, nor did he act as if she were made of Kōton steel. He handled her like she was a fucking woman.

And really, that was all she ever wanted.

"Ah—almost," He panted, latching almost painfully to her hair. His spine curved back, muscles stiff with the lackadaisical approach of his growing orgasm. Feeling the heat of her own arousal draining into the space between her thighs, Sakura shifted, squeezing her thighs together in a desperate attempt at easing the friction but it hardly worked. She traced the arc of her thigh with a touch that was barely there, brushing against the edge of her lower lips with a moan, imagining hands a little rougher than her own.

Then when she felt his muscles grow taut beneath her hands, Sakura pulled back completely, smirking as Okami's hips chased after her in one last vain thrust. His breathing was labored, barely disguising his low, "Ah fuck," while his cock, bridged to her mouth with a fragile line of saliva, pulsed in her hand. She held him, slowly rotating her wrist as she lazily pumped his slick manhood, teasing the engorged tip with a glowing green finger—watching as he writhed against her.

But he didn't let her get away with that.

Okami yanked down on her hair this time, sharply, and held her in that position until she whimpered—a reprimand. And God did it make her ache. "Open," He commanded, the husk of his intonation seething with a crumpled version of restraint. Sakura opened her mouth immediately, tongue extended despite the discomfort in her neck at the obtuse angle he kept her. She tasted him, salt and skin with a bitter aftertaste, as he drug his shaft back and forth over her tongue, not quite slipping back inside, but foreshadowing the act. It riled her up all the same.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?" Okami growled, drawing back to form another bridge between them. "Don't you?" A sound reminiscent of a huff left Sakura's throat as it snapped, dripping down her chin, accompanied by a glint of mischief in her eye as she peered up at him. The shadows on his mask morphed, transforming its grin into something a little more dangerous. He clicked his tongue, chuckling, as if hearing the snarky remark on the tip of her tongue. "I hope you're comfortable, because I'm about to make sure you never forget the taste of my cock."

Sakura's stomach billowed at the ground out promise, and before she could really prepare herself, she felt him hit the back of her throat.

The surprised sound that left her chest was strangled, morphing into a string of broken moans as Okami continued driving into her mouth. He was rough with her—merciless, almost—using her with a reckless ferocity that came with months of agitation and salacity and by the Gods, it was dirty. But knowing that she had so much power over him, that he had so much pent up carnality for her was equally as sexy as it was perverse.

"You like this, don't you Jonin Haruno?" Okami bit out, sliding back so she could breathe, shivering at the sight of the silvery watermark his cock left behind. His hand released her hair for a moment, coming to caress her cheek. His thumb bypassed her wet lips to spread his come over her tongue while he stroked himself, sure to tap the head of his shaft against her in mirth before sliding back into her dripping mouth. "Getting on my nerves? Sitting on your knees with my cock in your mouth? You look so pretty like this."

She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he spoke through gritted teeth, could taste the unfiltered need in his next thrusts, which only added to the fervid mood. She wanted it—his want, his attention, his need—all for herself. To keep it pressed against her chest and knotted around her fingers, right where he belonged. Sakura hummed her affirmation, whinging as her nose pressed against his pelvis; he held her there for a long moment, sighing in unfiltered pleasure as her throat constricted around him, before pulling back and doing it again. Each rut of his hips filled her cheeks with more and more of him, gradually coloring her lips with an opaque white that clung to her like sugar while his satisfied pants filled the room. And she encouraged it by digging her nails into his haunches.

After one particularly rough snap of his hips, Sakura's nails bit into his skin sharply, then she hurriedly tapped his thigh twice. Noticing, Okami pulled back, brushing away the building haze that speckled her vision, and raked his nails though her hair placatingly. "Give me a color," She heard him say, his voice almost soft despite its stridency.

Sakura sucked in a breath at the reprieve, chest heaving and tongue darting out to collect the silvery line of fluid spilling over her lower lip. Then, with a dark glimmer in her stare, she breathed out a raspy, "Green."

Kamen

He was hanging on by a thread.

A thread.

Sakura knew what she was doing; he could tell by the way her lips curled and how her cheek twitched. She was driving him wild, taking him so well that he struggled against his barest instincts. And the way she used her chakra to guide him towards the perimeter of his orgasm, so that his stomach dropped and his chest lifted—it was beyond anything he had ever felt before.

"Turn around," Shisui commanded, pulling the rosette to her feet and spinning her so her back was to his chest. He trapped her hips against the counter, his hands reaching, hungrily grasping for every inch of her that they could. He mapped the curves of her waist, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh, and then traveled back up to squeeze her breasts.

"You like being a little brat, don't you?" He asked again, positioning his member between her thighs. "You like the way I taste."

Feeling his thick tip pushing against the inside of her shorts killed the sarcasm on the edge of her tongue, sending Sakura's heart into a holler and pouring oil onto the flames of her arousal. She was so, so wet; she could feel it with every movement she made, sticking to the insides of her thighs, threatening to dribble down her legs. One of his hands snaked up her chest, settling lightly around the column of her neck. Sakura let out a soft exhale, tilting her head back so it could rest comfortably against his collarbone as a sign of approval.

"Tell me when it's too much," He purred into her ear, the porcelain of his mask nuzzling into her cheek.

His grip tightened, putting light pressure on the sides of her neck, squeezing until her vision began to dance with constellations. She followed the colors that washed her vision, jolting when his other hand slipped under her shirt, where he plucked at her rosy nipples until they pebbled. He feathered the underside of her breasts, evoking a meadow of goosebumps along her arms, then kneaded her soft mounds until his fingerprints remained. Paired with the lack of air and the stiff manhood gliding between her thighs, it made Sakura's back bow, made her lungs constrict and her haze morph into a delirium of watercolor.

She placed one of her hands over his own, encouraging him to grip her breast tighter and show him how she wanted to be touched, while the other edged down towards her shorts. Shisui adjusted his position so she could bypass the elastic, biting back a rumble of approval when he imagined the picture they made. He could hear the movements of her own fingers and the stutter in her breathing as she touched herself, could smell the distinct musk that was all her. And oh, was it intoxicating.

Shisui slackened his hold on her neck when she tapped his groping hand, but kept his fingers in place. Sakura sucked in a breath, fighting to stay standing as dopamine rushed to her head all at once. "Is this how you imagine it happening in your dreams, Haruno?"

The quiet, dazed "Yes," that responded, made Shisui chuckle.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" She didn't respond, but the hint of color to her cheeks was all the answer he needed. "I told you I wanted to hear you," He chastised, rolling her peaking bud between his proximal knuckles. He pinched them, twisted until she arched back, until she cried out his rank.

And suddenly, it wasn't enough.

Shisui hurriedly turned his mask to the side. He tugged on the cords for his bracers and let them fall to the ground with a deafening clatter, then kicked them away along with his vest. His gloves came off next, pulled off by his teeth and abandoned just as unceremoniously. He moved quickly, forcing her down with a hand between her shoulder blades and nudging her legs apart with a knee, because any slower and he would go absolutely feral.

He didn't even take his time in removing her little shorts, purposefully caressing the curvature of her rear with his nails, leaving scarlet scratches in his wake. He followed the scrap of fabric all the way down her legs, helping her step out of them and then tossing them aside. Then Shisui knelt behind her.

The light brush of his digits against her slick folds made Sakura jolt. She gasped, moving closer to the counter and closing her knees instinctively but Shisui would have none of that. He traced her slit with experienced movements, just skimming the divot of her lower lips. He didn't put any pressure, didn't even enter her, and yet the tips of his fingers glistened with her excitement.

"Kami you're so wet for me," Shisui murmured, almost in awe at the sounds that accompanied the dip of his fingers. He spread her lips apart, taunting her womanhood with his warm breath and admiring the rosy pink flesh that glistened before him. It made the rosette whimper, made her torso shake and her lashes flutter. She was absolutely dripping.

Sakura felt her cheeks flare with fluster at the position they were in, both self-conscious and turned on at being so blatantly displayed to him. The weight of his gaze was almost oppressive, making her belly undulate and her nerves prick, but not unkindly.

And then he leaned forward.

He kissed her the way he'd kiss her mouth, with a gentleness that Sakura didn't expect given his previous rush but made her keen regardless. The flat of his tongue ghosted along the outside of her dewy folds, just barely sweeping along the inside. And it was that wickedness that made the earth crumble beneath her very feet.

"Oh Kami," Sakura cried out. She pressed her body against the counter, taking in the surprisingly icy bite of its surface and hoping it would do something to contain her growing wildfire. There was lightning in his touch—an electrifying spark that kissed her in the moment before actually touching her. She had felt it before, in his chakra when he fought, and earlier when he touched her, giving her a snippet of a clue as to who he could've been.

But she didn't want to think about that now.

Shisui encased her swollen clit with his lips, sucking and flicking with the tip of his tongue. Then he pulled back. Took in the slick sheen of ecstasy that caught the light. He licked his lips. "You taste so good, Jonin Haruno," He praised, rubbing her with his fingers now. And the raw desire in his voice was devastating. "I could eat you all night." He slipped his longest finger in, watching with blazing red eyes as he disappeared into her.

She took him to the knuckle, clinging to him in a prelude of what was to come. When he pulled back, the crystalline threads of her arousal clung to his skin, tearing an almost agonized moan from Shisui's throat. He couldn't wait much longer, but he had to. With a quick but powerful rhythm, Shisui stroked her from the inside. He curled his finger, twisting his wrist with each push and pull, massaging the roof of her velvety walls before adding a second. The resistance was faint, her inner muscles straining to keep him sheathed rather than evict him, and only tightened further when he sucked her into his mouth again.

"Oh yes," Sakura mewled, her hips jerking away from Shisui's mouth, then back against it out of instinct. Her chakra thrummed at the contact, simmering and interlacing with the ecstatic heat of her arousal, all the way up into her sternum in a way that smothered her. "Just like that...do—" Her pitch lifted when he swirled his tongue around her pearl. "—on't stop!"

Shisui huffed amusedly at her demand, abruptly curling his fingers within her slick heat. Impishly, he drew the characters of his name between her folds—last name and all—then withdrew his fingers to trace the length of her womanhood. His free hand, which had previously been wrapped around his shaft, settled on her ass; he dug into the muscled flesh, nipped at it with a soft sigh before sucking violets along the back of her thigh. Then he devoured her again, slurping loudly as he drank in her spilled juices, licking sloppily at her pearly clit.

Sakura gyrated her hips, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow and tugging at her own hair in a bid to frustration when he slipped his tongue inside, then rose onto her toes when his fingers delved back in. Her skin tingled, icy at first but then scalding after. Her muscles twitched, her knees locked.

She was so close.

Feeling this, Shisui summoned his chakra with a mischievous simper, his long lashes fluttering as electricity surged through his chest. It pulsed in his chest, traveling down his arms and into his fingers. Sakura let out a surprised shriek, tossing her head back as unfiltered ecstasy shot through the fissures of her spine. It could have been painful, but that shock was so tender, so minute that it showered her in goosebumps and stalled her lungs, reverberating through her so incredibly slowly, that it sparked those last few glowing embers.

And she came.

It was torrential. Chaotic. Explosive.

And she wanted it again, and again and again until she couldn't feel anymore.

She set her forehead against the counter, trying to refill her chest with air only to slam her fist onto its surface when his chakra lashed at her again. He did it again and again, returning his right hand to his cock to ease the pain that rippled through him and hungrily drinking as much of her juices as possible.

"Are you going to come for me? Again?" Shisui asked when she clenched around his fingers. He increased the speed of his thrusts, drew circles around her jewel, basking in the beautiful sounds she made.

He heard a small huff of a laugh, one that was sharp and full of fight. He could imagine the slash of a smirk upon her face, the narrowed grin, the dare in her eyes. And when she rolled her hips, Shisui sunk the edge of his teeth into his lip. "Not until you fuck me."

At her challenge, Shisui's world lost its color. All the whites and greens of her apartment faded away, devoured instead by the brilliant vermilion of his Sharingan. Hearing the desperation concentrated in her voice made Shisui's cock throb, made his entire being spark. He withdrew from her heat, rasping out a rough, "Come here," as he positioned her higher onto the counter.

The bottle of sake, which had been orphaned for so long, shattered upon impact with the floor, along with the little dish and whatever other items that had been there. But Shisui didn't care. And judging by the way Sakura all but tore her shirt away, pushing back against him, she didn't either. He gripped the incurve of her waist, signing claret smudges against her flushed skin; then he plunged into her in one deliciously slow thrust, biting down on the moan that tore through him. She was so wet, it was unnecessary, but he wanted to savor the pulsation of her walls—wanted to burn the way it felt when she stretched around him into his memory. He wanted to feel every inch of her for as long as fucking possible.

And oh fuck did she feel amazing.

Beneath him, Sakura let out a keening moan. It started off low, husky, but with each inch of him that she took, it morphed into something high and shattering. He was so thick, so, so hot, that he seared her from the inside out. He felt like thunderstorms in summer, suffocating and booming, with a foreboding sense of excitement that made her lightheaded. "A-ah…!"

Shisui grit his teeth, desperately fighting the urge to just pound into her. He felt her tighten around him, pulling him in deeper yet also pushing him out, evoking another equally deep moan from his lips. "That's it—just a little more. You can take it."

His encouragement made her clamp, fully encasing him to the point that it ripped all the breath from his lungs. Shisui shuddered, collected his breath, then delved that last few inches until he was buried to the hilt. And his Sharingan memorized as she took every single inch.

Sakura reached back for him, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrists so tightly, that crescents engraved into his skin, keeping his hands in place against her waist. Then, she threw her hips back.

"Oh Ka—fuck Sakura!"

He took that as her "go ahead ", pulling back and snapping forward with all the strength that he had, abandoning all reservations he had about being patient. The pace he set was strong and fast, gradually forcing her higher and higher onto the counter, but she kept up well enough. He freed his hands from Sakura's grip with minor difficulty, smoothing them up and down her back, filing away every tiny, near-invisible scar that riddled her back until he found one larger than the rest. It went through her left side, silvery in color but slightly raised, the width of a sword. It made him recall the stories of her fight against Sunagakure's most infamous nukenin, and just imagining the carnage in her wake made him snarl.

Sakura's pace faltered at the surprisingly weightless touch, her moans sharpening into a gasp and her body stiffening. He leaned over her, worshiping her back with nips and wet licks, carved his nails into her skin, trailing further upwards until he reached the mark engraved into the blade of her right shoulder. He nipped at it, teeth grazing the scar just as he always imagined he would, slid his hands from her waist to her belly, then back up. Then he drew his thumb over it, tracing from tapered end to end, smoothing over the raised bit of flesh, before covering it with his palm.

He grasped her shoulder for purchase, using it as leverage to pound into her, to hit that spot inside of her that made her scream.

And then she was swearing, her sweat-drenched body quaking almost violently as she came around him. Shisui yanked her up, pulled her against him with a hand around her throat as he continued to sheathe himself into her, even as she clutched at his shirt—even as she slumped tiredly against him with whole galaxies in her vision.

He slowed his hips just as the tickle of his orgasm appeared, taking deep, steadying breaths to keep the crest of his climax at bay because as amazing as she felt, he wasn't ready to stop. Against him, Sakura hummed in thanks as she too attempted to catch her breaths. With his face nuzzled into her neck, Shisui could feel her pulse racing against his temple, noting how it quickened with each slow rut of his hips. He waited patiently for her to recover, content with the languid pace he had set until the spidery threads of his orgasm faded away.

Pulling out, he grazed his teeth against the base of her neck, her jaw, the lobe of her ear. "Get on the counter."

Kamen

In the moment that she blinked, Sakura found herself cloaked in darkness.

The lights had been flicked off, leaving her with only the hardly-there slivers of moonlight that filtered through the kitchen window. She heard the rustle of clothing, the dull thump of Okami's shirt hitting the floor, and then she felt a warmth that radiated from naked skin. But he was so hot. His skin, even while drenched in sweat, radiated with a buzzing sort of heat that could only be caused by a fiery chakra. But she didn't want to think about that. She just wanted to feel.

She hopped onto the counter quickly, laying back with glazed eyes, settling as comfortably as she could on such a hard surface. Then, upon feeling the tip of her captain's cock nudging her inner thighs, she smiled.

She couldn't see much of him. Just his outline as he loomed over her. She could see the unruly curls of his hair jutting out and the points of his mask's ears, the curves of his broad shoulders. If she squinted and focused well enough, Sakura was sure she could make out more distinct features of the man before her.

But she didn't want to. She liked this—the anonymity, the mystery.

Shisui sunk into her with a grunt, then settled over her with his chest flushed with hers. He hooked his arms beneath her knees, hitching them high up towards her chest so the head of his cock could reach deep into her.

"You're such a good girl," He purred into her clavicle, nipping playfully. "So good." He began thrusting into her again, slowly but powerfully. He brought his lips and teeth and tongue everywhere he could reach, relishing in the near-frustrated groans of his lover as she writhed beneath him. He took a nipple between his teeth, biting down just enough for her to whimper, then licking away the pain while his hand latched around her neck again.

Sakura arched up into Shisui's chest, her hands raking down his back as he nicked that bundle of nerves almost immediately. He added pressure to the sides of her neck, conjuring nonsensical shapes and colors to her vision once again while rolling her clit with lightning in his touch.

"T-taichou," Sakura began with a gasp. Her brows knitted and her nose scrunched. "Too much. It's too much."

"One more," He panted, adjusting his grip around her throat. "You can do it. One more for me."

Sakura bit down on her fingers, blinking back the tears that formed at the corners of her eyelids. Her hips lifted off the tile, flinching away but having nowhere to go as Shisui's thumb rolled at her overstimulated clit. It was so good, too good—it hurt. She tapped on his hand, "Yellow!"

Hearing her shout, Shisui immediately pulled his hand away with a curse, pulling out as well. Sakura's arms dropped from his shoulders, with one draping over her eyes and the other slack above her head. The rise and fall of her chest was as erratic as her heartbeat, matching his own almost to the second. And even though he had escaped her heat, Shisui could still feel her spasming around him, begging, reigniting the seemingly undying hunger that smoldered within him.

"What do you need?" He managed to ask, wiping the sweat on his brow with his bicep.

"A minute," She replied. "Just a minute."

He counted the moments, content with the way it felt to just rest his brow on Sakura's knee, before finally rising onto his elbows. It was dark still, the light of morning still far off, so he couldn't see the result of their romance, but he could picture it clearly. He couldn't wait to see her later, in the daylight, all shades of blue and red and purple. Her skin would retain the color well.

Without really thinking of it, Shisui began massaging her pelvis, pulsing his chakra in a way similar to how she did with him.

He was tentative at first, his confidence in the healing arts far less blatant than anything else, but he increased pressure when the medic purred beneath him. When she hummed in content, he lowered his head to take one of her tender nipples between his lips, sucking and twisting almost lazily. Shisui trailed his tongue between the valley of her breasts, up her neck to the crest of her chin, while his fingers tweaked at her nipples until she squirmed. Then he licked at the underside of her breast, just like he learned she liked.

And he did this until he felt her hands travel up his torso. He closed his eyes, savoring the faint scraping of her nails on his skin, when her fingers suddenly latched onto the pendant around his neck. Sakura smiled at the growl of warning the Anbu member made, the edge of a tooth sinking into her lower lip in a way that strained his chest, and then she pulled, leading Shisui back over her body.

He allowed it with a dark chuckle.

Kamen

Shisui felt like he was falling.

He was on the ledge of a cliff, a thousand feet high, his heels dangling precariously off the edge. And then he was falling. The sky swallowed him, air entangling with his form as he went limp. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.

There was only pleasure. Adrenaline. Sakura's walls fluttering around him.

They'd been at it for over an hour, moving from position to position with a telepathy that came with so much experience.

His heart fell with him, constricting in a way that could have been painful in any other context while his stomach undulated with mirth. He wet his lips, watching as the Hokage's apprentice swallowed him; he was going to come.

He was going to come.

His orgasm crashed into him with a broken snarl, his body stalling against her as he filled her with rope after rope of his seed. Her walls fluttered around him in one last wave of pleasure, squeezing him deliciously to the point of shivering.

Shisui gripped the counter on either side of Sakura's form, bending forward so he could stretch out the muscles in his aching back. His whole body burned with pain and pleasure, having delayed his orgasm three times now, and he could feel the inflamed lines Sakura had cut into his skin, stretching and itching with each movement that he made. But he didn't mind it one bit.

Because they were a gift from her.

And because her skin was just as ruined to match.

"Give me a color," He said after a while, nipping just below her navel.

Sakura hummed, sliding her hands through his wild hair and tugging lightly, impishly. "Green."

"Good," He said, trailing his fingers down her chest. He settled between her legs, hiking them over his shoulders. His eyes, transiently glowing a shade of scarlet, flickered up, darkening to flint just as Sakura's eyes shot open. He yanked her to the edge of the counter with a roughness that made her thighs clench. "Because I'm not done with you, yet.

Chapter Text

Sakura awoke to sunlight pressing against her eyelids and voices in her kitchen. 

Her body ached all over, weighed down with the type of fatigue that demanded five more minutes, but it was a pleasant feeling.  So she laid there for a while with her cheek burrowed into her pillow and her legs curled , recalling the feel of Okami’s hands smoothing over every inch of flesh that they could reach, and his lips suckling at rosy smudges. 

His fingers plucked at her nipple, rolling it in time with the rutting of his hips. He teased the other with his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud and the heat of his breath against the wet print on her skin sending a chill between her shoulders. Sakura shifted so she leant back on her left palm, gripping his shoulder with the other and let her head drop back. She moaned, loud and unhindered.

“Oh Kami you feel so good,” Okami groaned. “You’re so hot. So tight. Fuck.”

Her skin burned, blood and chakra boiling like liquid fire in her veins as each wild thrust imprinted against the bundle of nerves within her. It made her throat itch, almost as if she could feel him that deeply, made her swear and scream and writhe until her thighs spasmed and her nails were carving into his skin. Sakura sucked in a broken gasp, tensing as wave after wave of ecstasy washed down her spine. Her knees tightened around Okami’s hips in an attempt at making him still, and he did.

He remained flush against her, rolling his hips slowly, carefully, nicking at that spot that made her whimper with delirium. She could feel him trembling, could feel him twitch inside of her, either with the approaching of his own orgasm or with the strain of his restraint, she wasn’t sure. But she loved it.

“So good,” She heard, when she pivoted her hips to meet his slow thrust. Okami gripped her waist, tightening once before dragging his nails up her back. “Fuck you’re so good.”

Stretching her legs, Sakura hissed as the lines drawn into her skin smoldered in protest. She could feel the faint burn of ravaged skin, winding from her lower thighs to the top of her spine; could recall the ache of purple fingerprints and the lingering tickle of impish nibbles—all acting as bold reminders of her previous night. 

Her back hit the door with a sharp thump, making her moan morph into a pleased growl.  Okami hiked her right knee up, hooking his left arm beneath it and pinning it high against his chest. The position forced her onto her toes, made her hold onto his shoulders for purchase — made her take him so deeply, she saw stars. He was so deep, the slight curve of his cock and the arching of her back allowing him to stroke a part of her in a way that no one else had. Okami roughly adjusted their position, jostling her in a way that made her clit rub against him just right.

She gasped with a jolt, leaning back against the door to balance herself, tightening around him so abruptly, he froze .

“A-ah,” Okami breathed out, almost like a crumpled version of a chuckle. The arm encircling her waist tightened, fingers tracing circles on her hip. His brow rested on her collarbone. “You’re getting so tight. Is this how you like it, Haruno?”

She raked her nails across his shoulder blade in response, too dazed to trust her vocal cords to form anything more than a whimper. Okami pulled back, slowly, then snapped his hips forward so sharply, her lips twisted into an almost pained grimace. He moved faster, harder, reaching up to hook his left hand upon her shoulder and lock her into place — and oh fuck he was so deep ! She grasped at him, tugging at his wild locks and brushing the underside of his mask, then trailed downwards to tangle her fingers into the cord around his neck. 

She wound it around her knuckles in a way similar to how he held her hair, carefully pulling on it with a mirthful huff. “Make it hurt.”

Her nails caught a tear in the bedsheets, likely a result of the grip she had on them just hours ago, and if she looked up, Sakura didn’t doubt she’d find a five-fingered indentation in her headboard. Her lips curved into a smile and she curled further into the embrace of her blankets, ignoring the pain bleeding into her muscles.  She wanted to lay there for the rest of the day, basking in the glow of last night's — and this morning’s — passion , recalling every debauched moment, but the voices outside her door had a different idea.

She wasn’t sure what exactly Naruto was complaining about—”Ugh, what even is this?”—or why he was slamming her cabinets, nor did she particularly care enough to pitch a fit, but if she didn’t get up now, who knew what the idiot would do? So, with a long, drawn-out sigh, Sakura reluctantly detangled herself from her bedsheets and eased onto her feet. 

"Oh shit ," She hissed. Standing made the dull ache between her legs sharpen, made her stomach drop and her knees lock, so Sakura leaned forward, propping herself up with her palms on her mattress. The movement stretched the marks on her back and tugged on her bruises in a way that made her lightheaded . And now that she was vertical, the remnant slickness between her legs grew ever prominent, threatening to drip down her thighs. 

And some perverted part of her preened at both the imagery and the sensation.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Sakura looked around her bedroom to survey the aftermath of last night's romp. Half of her sheets were on the floor, wrinkled up and tangled with a few pillows, while a pile of books made a haphazard home at the foot of her bookshelf. Her desk, once littered with papers and unraveled scrolls, had been jostled a foot to the right with nothing but a glass of water and her clothes from the night before folded neatly on top.

She felt the hardwood vibrate beneath her feet as they stumbled against her desk. Okami grunted as he backed into it, muttering a curse as a scroll rolled off its surface, but Sakura didn’t care enough to stop. She reached out for him, smoothing her fingertips over his pectorals and the dips of his abdomen; his muscles contracted at her delicate touch. With the door shut and the curtains drawn, the room was dark—darker than the kitchen and her living room — so she had to rely on touch, and somehow, the absolute darkness only made the embers of her arousal burn brighter.

She smoothed her palms over his chest and shoulders, tasted the salt on his skin with playful licks before nibbling the cowl of his neck; then she followed the cuts of his pelvis down with a teasing breath of chakra. His sharp inhale pulled a husky chuckle from Sakura’s lips. Trailing kisses down Okami’s torso, Sakura pressed her lips against the crease of his hip, then dragged her tongue along the length of his cock. His hands jerked, sending whatever else was on the desk tumbling over the edge. She didn’t linger, however, rising to her feet and murmuring a halfhearted apology into the underside of his jaw. Then, before the operative could emit more than a breath of warning, Sakura propped one leg up onto the desk and eased onto him. 

Okami’s hands flew to her hips, fingers sinking into the curve of her ass, accompanied by an elongated curse and the dropping of his head. Sakura laughed as she pried his hands away, taking note of his hitched breath as she pinned them down to the desk. “Ah, I didn’t say you could touch me,” She teased. Satisfied when he didn’t immediately move, she nuzzled the back of his ear with her nose, traced the shell of it with her tongue while her nails flicked over one of his perked nipples, “Your hands stay right here, Taichou .  So if you want me to take every single inch of you, don’t.  Fucking.  Move.”

Her fingers slowly threaded into his hair one at a time, each finger ebbing at the moan restrained in his chest until finally, Okami’s breath shattered with a whined, “Please.”

The roses splayed across her inner thighs tingled at the memory, making Sakura huff a laugh and shift on her feet until her hips popped. The flushed patches of skin were already beginning to darken into vibrant smudges of indigo, and even though it had been hours since he had been in her bed, she could still feel the sharpness of his teeth against her clavicle and the delicious twitch of his cock inside of her.

Finally feeling the smoldering pain pass, Sakura pushed aside the igniting embers of her thoughts and carefully limped her way to her desk. She downed the water in one breath, muttering a grateful “thank you,” to Okami for being so considerate, then, with her hands braced against her desk, she faced her mirror.

She had expected the bites imprinted into her trapezius and the reddish splotches sketched along the column of her neck. She just hadn't expected the sheer amount of them. They peppered her chest like constellations, some bright red and others already a shade of blue, stretching from the swell of her breasts down to just above her knee.  Finger shaped marks encircled her biceps where he held her, matching the ones stained just above her hips and between her thighs—all caused when she got a little too lippy. Canting her head back, Sakura reached for one particularly vicious love bite branded into the base of her neck, smiling almost haughtily as she recalled the satisfied growl Okami had blessed it with. Then she turned away from the mirror, twisting so she could survey the scarlet wings his fingernails etched into her back.

And knowing that he bore a matching set carved into his own flesh, made Sakura preen.

Deciding it would be best to heal the most noticeable ones, like the one at the center of her throat and the ones on her arms, Sakura pressed chakra-dusted fingers against anything her usual outfits wouldn’t cover or that she couldn‘t play off as battle-related.  But she didn’t let them disappear completely. She lightened them just enough that no one else could see them unless they got close enough.

The rest of them, however, she kept just as vibrant as they were.

Kamen

Entering her living room, Sakura casted a quick glance around, taking note of the silver-haired man splayed across her couch and the bloodied clothes thrown onto the floor. His travel pack and weapons pouches were slumped against the couch while his favorite orange book was carelessly discarded atop her coffee table, face down so the prohibition symbol faced up — a sign that he wasn’t injured. Kakashi didn’t so much as stir as she passed, his eyes hidden beneath the arm he draped over himself, but she had no doubt he was aware of her appearance.

She let him be, opting to figure out what the hell Naruto was up to, only to find him waist deep in her fridge, with an amused Sai perched atop her counter. The blond’s outfit was as garish as usual, not a thread out of place while Sai’s was scuffed, speckled with blood but otherwise unbothered, leaving her to believe no one needed any medical care. Folding her arms across her chest, Sakura leant against the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?”

Startled, Naruto flinched, making the back of his head smack into the underside of the freezer. He snarled a few curses, throwing an apple from her fridge at Sai before the ex-Root-nin could so much as open his mouth, then turned to face Sakura whilst rubbing at his scalp. “Kami Sakura-chan, don’t do that!”

Quirking a brow, Sakura canted her head to the side. “Do what? Walk around my own house?” Pushing away from the door frame, Sakura silently praised herself for withholding the falter in her steps. She came to a stop beside Sai, leaning against the counter with only a faint wince. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I was just coming back from an assignment, when Dickless suggested lunch,” Sai said, biting into the apple he had caught. “However, I was under the impression we would be going for actual food.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, playfully shoving at Sai’s side with her shoulder, then gestured towards their former sensei with the tilt of her head. “And Kaka-sensei?”

Sai offered her the apple in his hand, tightening his grip on it when Sakura sank her teeth into its side. “He was already here when we arrived.”

At that, the rosette’s brows knitted with concern. It wasn’t at all unusual to find her sofas commandeered by one or more of her teammates, just like it wasn’t unusual to wake up to them rummaging through her kitchen or showering in her bathroom. She knew that they all had their own stress and issues to deal with, and that sometimes, hiding in her little loft was the best thing for them to do, whether it be to clear their minds or to hide away from their problems. So she didn’t mind that they took up on her couch after a long mission or stole a plate of whatever she was working on—she encouraged it, actually, by stocking the bathroom with extra toiletries and filling a drawer with spare clothes. All she asked was that they cleaned up after themselves.

However, as she tossed another wayward glance towards her living room, Sakura knew something was different.

Kakashi had always been a solitary person. Sure, he spent time with the team every chance he got and spent days off at the bar with the shinobi from his year, but Sakura recognized his loneliness for what it was.  However recently, Sakura couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering her former sensei.  There was a sluggishness about him lately, a layer of fatigue in his lone gray eye. It worried her, but the fact that he saw her home as a place of sanctuary comforted her enough to bite her tongue.

Deciding against commenting on it, Sakura moved to sit on top of the counter, watching as Naruto finally removed a pot from a lower cabinet and set it on the stove. “Oi, Sakura-chan, how come there’s no ramen?” He asked, his expression twisting into one of distaste as he began measuring out the rice.

Sakura rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Naruto, I’ve been gone for about three weeks. If there’s no more ramen, it’s because you ate it all and didn’t restock.”

"We need to buy some," He said, more to himself than her. He filled the pot with water before pulling out the carton of eggs from the fridge. "Actually," He began, double backing to peer back into the fridge with a frown. "We need a lot of things."

"We can go to the market after breakfast."

"Is it wise to let Dickless cook?" Sai cut in, before taking another bite of his apple.

Naruto whipped around with an indignant look on his face and his finger rudely pointed at the dark haired man. "Oi! I can cook more than just ramen, ya know!"

Sai’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “I recall a time when you were asked to cook and—”

Naruto’s cheeks burned with mortification; he threw the closest thing he had, which was a kitchen towel that was draped over the oven handle, but Sai merely caught it, mid-bite. “OI!  We promised never to talk about that!”

Snorting at the pair, Sakura asked, "And what are you cooking, Naruto?"

He huffed, throwing her a bland look before turning back to the stove. "I mean, all you have are eggs and rice, Sakura."

"So either shoyu tamago, onigiri tamago, onsen tamago—"

Naruto cut off Sai's listing with a huff. "Onsen tamago. Now let me work, will ya?"

"Sorry chef," Sakura teased, leaning towards Sai to take one last bite of the fruit loosely cradled in his hand. “I just hope you’re making some for all of us.” The blond began to grumble a soft “yeah, yeah,” under his breath, but went on to prepare the rest of lunch, so Sakura turned to Sai. “How’ve you been Sai?  You haven’t come by here in a while.  You’re doing alright?”

He leant back onto the counter, depositing the leftover apple core into the bin to his right. “I’ve been well.  Hokage-sama has been very,” He paused, searching for the right word to use, given his teammate’s relationship with his Kage. The last thing he wanted was a swollen lip this early into the day. “Generous with her missions lately.”

A pink eyebrow lifted curiously at his wording, but Sakura shrugged it off; she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “Alright.  Just remember that you’re welcome to stay here whenever you want to.”

His smile returned, easy and brimming with sincerity. “I will keep that in mind.” But then his eyes took on a hint of mischief, and before she could stop him, he pressed his fingers against the faded yellow splotch on the side of her thigh. “Hopefully I will come at a time when you are not so preoccupied."

Slapping his pale hand away, Sakura inwardly cursed Ino for spending so much time with Sai. But, she supposed she should also thank the blonde; Sai had come a long way from the impassive shell that he once was, nearly ten years ago.

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the day they met.  It was shortly after her battle against Akasuna no Sasori; Sasuke was still training outside of the village and Naruto had just gotten back from his travels around the world, Kakashi was still recovering and Obito had his hands full with the Academy.  She needed a team, and Sai and Yamato needed a teammate. So they met up.

And oh man , was it a meeting.

She had broken his jaw within half an hour of introducing themselves and he had scared up her left arm.  Yamato had barely managed to pull them apart when Naruto showed up to her defense.  And of course that led to disaster.  Ultimately, it took nine missions, a Kyuubi sealing, the appearance of Sasuke and a Bell Test that absolutely obliterated training grounds seven, eight and nine, to finally find that common ground. The rest was history.

“Hey Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s voice, which had softened into something akin to nervousness, pulled her from her thoughts. He even shuffled around on his feet, looking like the little Gennin that used to follow her around like a lost puppy. “Are you busy today?”

Sakura considered him for a moment, rifling through her mind for any plans she may have had, before she shook her head. “Nope.  What’s up?”

If it were possible, Naruto’s expression brightened and he straightened up considerably. “My dad and I are gonna do some more training with the Hiraishin, but I can’t see the difference in our techniques.  Would you help?”

Sakura furrowed her brows and tilted her head. “What do you mean you can’t see the difference?”

“Well, when I’m training with my dad, we’re moving at the same speed.  And we have the same fighting style and techniques so I’m not,” He paused, searching for the right word with a scrunched nose and tight lips. “Challenged?  I don’t know.  I just know that I’m missing something because he keeps knocking me on my ass, and you’re good at noticing stuff like that."

Flattered at the compliment (because hearing any of her teammates admit that she was better than them at something always plucked a pleasant cord), Sakura squared her shoulders and beamed. “Sure!  It’ll give me a chance to figure out formations and battle combinations.  Maybe if we have time before dinner, and if Kaka-sensei and Obito-senpai aren’t too late, we can do a few drills.” Sakura turned to Sai. “Are you gonna join us?”

“Later,” He replied, softly. “I want to shower. Then I have to work on my mission report.  I’ll come as soon as possible, though.” Then he brushed his shoulder against hers, mirroring her light teasing from earlier. “Someone needs to keep an eye on senpai, after all.”

Accepting that, Sakura returned her attention to Naruto, only for her eyes to widen upon seeing the pot boiling over. “Naruto!  Pay attention to your cooking, you idiot!”

He paled, whirling around to adjust the heat. “I’m sorry Sakura!  OI!  Don’t throw shit at—ITAI!”

Kamen

Everyone knew that Training Ground Three was specifically reserved for Team Seven.  

Not just because it was where they mostly met, even as far back as their Gennin days, but because it was the largest and the furthest away from the hubbub of the village.  Here, the seven powerhouses could battle and let loose without worrying about their destruction spilling out into the streets or rattling any windows, or about bumping into other trainees. Naruto perfected all his Rasen-jutsu there, learned to befriend the Kyuubi there, while Sasuke and Kakashi-sensei honed their lightning jutsu and Sakura created earthquakes; and Yamato and Sai could let their techniques run wild.

Because everyone knew that sometimes Team Seven got a little carried away when it came to training.

After demolishing three training grounds in that overly competitive bout of Capture the Bell, it was unanimously agreed that Training Ground Three was the only place they, or anyone who could match their destruction, were allowed to train.

Which also meant that if anyone ever needed to find any of them, they didn’t need to look far.

After breakfast and a quick trip through the market for some groceries, Sakura and Naruto found themselves working through a series of stretches at their usual spot.  They were discussing the extent of Naruto’s new training regiment and the theoretical execution of his techniques, hoping to figure out whether or not there was something there that needed work, when Naruto paused mid-sentence.

Waving, Naruto yelled out, “Oi!  Teme!  What’re you doing here?”

Turning around, Sakura waved as well. “Hey Sasuke!” Only to tilt her head curiously upon seeing who was walking beside him—his father.

Growing up beside Sasuke and having worked alongside him in the Hokage’s office, Sakura had met Uchiha Fugaku enough times to recognize him from a mile away, but few enough times to feel a bit put off when they ran into each other outside of the compound.  He was usually busy whenever she’d been at the Uchiha compound, either working or reading through reports.  He was a stoic man with a seemingly cold demeanor if one didn’t know him well enough.  She used to be scared of him—Naruto, too—but years of adolescent shenanigans and scolding albeit amused glares from said man quickly brushed aside all apprehension.

And honestly, Fugaku was a pretty interesting man when you got over the permanent scowl and shared a drink with him.

Upon hearing his name, Sasuke glanced their way.  Then after sharing a word to one another, the two Uchiha diverged from their initial path and made their way over.  Sasuke acknowledged them with a grunt.  “Sakura.  Dobe.”

Immediately, Sakura dipped into a polite but casual bow, tugging on the front of Naruto’s shirt to make him do the same. “Hello Fugaku-sama!”

The older man gave a nod. “Sakura. Naruto.”

The neverending similarities between the father and son duo never failed to crack a smile from the rosette, especially when it was as obvious as it was now.  Sakura released Naruto, letting the blond bombard his best friend with excited spouts of who knows what, while she focused all her attention on the Police Chief.  “How’s Mikoto-sama?”

Fugaku waved his hand. “You know she hates it when you call her that,” He chided, though not unkindly. “She’s doing well, wondering when you’ll come by to teach her that soldier pill recipe.”

Sakura chuckled softly before reaching into her pouch. “I haven’t forgotten!  I was going to wait until next time Sasuke hosted a team dinner but here’s the ingredient list,” She said, handing him a slip of paper. “I hope she’ll figure out a way to make it taste better.”

Dark eyes scanned over the contents neatly scrawled along the parchment, flickering with approval before Fugaku carefully deposited the list into his own weapon’s pouch. “I’ll be sure to give her this after Sasuke and I finish here.”

Naruto piped up at that, “Are you guys training here?”

With a minute twitch of his lips at Sakura and Sasuke’s shared mumble— “Obviously, idiot.” —Fugaku nodded. “Yes.  Normally we would use the private training grounds at the compound, but the technique Sasuke is working on is too wide-scale for our space.”

Sakura’s eyes sparkled with amusement, darting over towards her dark haired teammate who stuffed his hands into his pockets and huffed to himself.  Despite the well feigned indifference, Sakura easily caught the pinkness on the tips of his ears—almost as if he were flustered at the attention being drawn to him.  She wanted to tease him, call out the way his gaze remained drawn to the grass, but decided against it upon noticing the appraising glance his father tossed his way. 

Part of her couldn’t imagine what kind of jutsu Sasuke could possibly be working on that it was too large for any part of the Uchiha training grounds, but then again, it didn't surprise her in the slightest considering her squad's unique skill set.

While Team Eight was born to track and Team Ten was best at stalling and intelligence gathering, Team Seven was built to destroy.

“Hey Sakura-chan, is that your dad?”

At Naruto's sudden question, Sakura turned around, squinting and placing a hand above her brow to block out the glare of the afternoon sun, only to perk up upon recognizing the shock of pink hair cutting across the field. “Papa!”

Kizashi waved at Sakura’s surprised shout, smiling then setting his hands on his hips expectantly. He was dressed in his fatigues, his vest unfastened and his hair a mess—just back from his mission most likely—which only piqued Sakura’s already existing curiosity.

“Pebble!  Come and give your old man a hug!” 

The rosette threw a glance at Fugaku, as if politely asking if he would mind her darting across the field. His mouth was set in a firm line—firmer than usual if that was even possible—and his arms returned to their position folded against his chest, but he nodded. At his nod, Sakura sprinted forward, throwing herself into her father’s awaiting arms with a laugh.  He caught her, squeezing so tightly, Sakura grimaced, then set her down just as Naruto appeared at their side.

“Hey, Papa Haruno!”

Kizashi looped an arm around Naruto’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug with a grin that could put the blond’s to shame. “And the son I never had!  Today really is my lucky day,” He laughed as he ruffled Naruto’s hair.  Then, after Naruto had pressed his brow against his, Kizashi turned towards his daughter with a more scolding tone. “I knew I’d find you here. You know your mother says you spend more time here than at home, Pebble.”

“You’re back early,” Sakura easily deflected as she set a hand on his arm.  She coursed her chakra into him, encouraging it to follow his bloodstream in search of any abnormalities—just in case. “Mama said you wouldn’t be back for at least another day.”

“Ah, well you know me—always eager to get home,” Kizashi replied with a chuckle. “Everything went much smoother than expected.” 

Interested, as always, Naruto’s impossibly blue eyes took on an almost comically hungry glimmer. “What’d you do?  Did you escort some beautiful princess to meet with her suitor?  Did you rescue a princess?  Or what about—ITAI!”

As Naruto rubbed at the sore spot sprouting from where Sakura whacked him, the medic huffed. “You’ve been reading too many of Jiraiya-sama’s novels, you idiot.  Besides, just because you like to gossip mission details, doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

FinallyFinally noticing the pair of Uchiha standing a little ways away, Kizashi grinned and made his way towards them. "Ah Fugaku! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!  I didn't see you sulking all the way over there! Hello Sasuke!"

Both Uchiha bore a flat expression at Kizashi's greeting, with Fugaku's brow twitching out of annoyance at being overlooked while Sakura placed a hand over her face in embarrassment.  She loved her dad, she really did, but he was known for his terrible—and she meant terrible—jokes.  And no one appreciated them quite like the Uchiha Patriarch.  The two went to the Academy together and were even placed on the same Genin team for a while, which meant Fugaku had spent years listening to each and every ridiculous pun as they appeared.

But rather than hissing out his disapproval as he usually did, Fugaku sighed, and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Kizashi. As oblivious as always, I see."

Kizashi clapped at Fugaku's shoulder with a bellowing laugh, gripping his belly at the slight stumble his old friend made. "It's been too long! How are you?"

Recovering from the ridiculously powerful slap to his back, Fugaku grunted. "I'm fine. And yourself?"

Waving a hand dismissively, Kizashi hummed. "Oh well, I’ve been busy with missions and whatnot, but I think I’m all right. "

It was hardly noticeable—the break in Fugaku’s composure, the furious darkening of his eyes, the tension in his shoulders—but a decade with Sasuke taught Sakura all the cues of a ruffled Uchiha.  And Fugaku’s feathers were decidedly ruffled.  Kizashi seemed to notice too, because his mouth curved into the same mischievous grin Naruto had whenever he got a rise out of Sasuke.

Kizashi set his hand upon Fugaku’s shoulder. “Oh come on, Fugaku!  Don’t tell me you’re still sore about that. It's been over thirty years!"

Fugaku huffed, shrugging the hand away and plucking it from his shoulder, looking as if he'd been personally offended. "It was a terrible joke."

“What was the joke?” Naruto asked.

Amusement colored Kizashi’s gaze at the question, and he turned to Naruto to explain, but was cut off by Fugaku’s growled, “Not.  Another.  Word.”

Unaffected by his former teammate’s tone, the older Haruno took on a more teasing stance, crossing his arms and upturning his chin. "It may not have been my best," he admitted, lips curling into a smirk that made Sakura grin. "But it was good enough to take you down."

Fugaku's eyes slid back over to his childhood teammate, narrowing in that same way Sasuke's did when he was ready to pounce. "A fluke," He grunted. 

Feeling the anticipation draping over her shoulders, Sakura let her lips curl up into a gleeful smile and shared a look with her teammates, just to find them bearing grins just as feral.

Kizashi hummed, flashing pearly teeth and a sly wink towards Sakura. "You sound so sure of that.  Perhaps a rematch is in order?"

Excitedly, Sakura rolled her shoulders, tilting her head left then right, before lowering into a defensive stance. Naruto and Sasuke mirrored her, waiting for Fugaku's familiar, "Hn," before leaping away from one another.

Kamen

Sakura hated fire users.

Her resentment for them had taken root in her Genin years, back when she came to realize that the sparkling beauty of untamed flame simply wasn’t worth the destruction in the end.  Sasuke had burned a bit of his mouth and a section of her hair, left a scar on the front of Naruto’s chest where the button to his jacket burned too hot, all because he couldn’t control his fire.

He wanted to show off, because that was something that men— especially Uchiha men—liked to do.  And he, along with the rest of the team, got burned.

It was really as simple as that.

But if she really wanted to delve into the specifics of her love-hate relationship with fire, she could use this moment as an example.

Flames latched onto the surrounding trees, gold and red and blue knotting together to devour the greens and browns of the training grounds.  They spread wildly, licking at branches until the wood creaked and curled into itself.  Smoke blew into Sakura’s eyes, forcing her to squint against the floating swirls that reached out for her.  She couldn’t see anything more than the darting silhouettes or the sparks of clashing metal, and the thickness of it forced its way down her throat until she was left sputtering for air, which meant her best hope at victory was for Naruto’s predictable use of his Rasengan.

A shift in the wind acted as the only warning of the fist coming her way, so Sakura ducked back, her spine curving so far back, so abruptly, that she nearly toppled over.  Instinctively, her left hand flew up to lock around the wrist flying over her shoulder, and once her grip was sure, Sakura flung her opponent over her and into the trunk of a nearby tree.  Leaves rained down and a grunt rang out at the impact, but whoever was facing her didn’t let it bother them, using the blinding smoke as cover to rush her and tackle her at the waist.

Sakura hit the ground hard , gasping and wheezing as the breath flooded from her lungs and back arching, her face snapping to the side as knuckles came down harshly on her cheek.  She brushed aside the spots in her vision, fighting to squeeze a leg out from under him while using her arm to guard her face from any more hits; but he wouldn’t relent. So Sakura jabbed a green-glowing hand into his gut, fingers stiff.  The effect was instantaneous.  He rolled off of her, wheezing and coughing until he retched— ”Not cool, Sakura-chan!”

Maneuvering onto her knees, Sakura harrumphed, “Sorry Naruto!”

The wind shifted again, this time from behind and to the right, so Sakura threw herself to the left, only to curse as wire wrapped around her arm and neck, pulling at her until blood seeped from her skin.  She let herself be tugged back, hands flailing to find the wire, and once they did, she curled them around her fists and yanked, hoping to take Sasuke (because who else used wire like that?) down.  The air sparked, taking on a charcoal-like scent, and then a line of flames spread along the wire towards her like a rabid beast.

“D...amn it…!” Sakura pulled on the wire with chakra-infused hands, bucking Sasuke out of the tree he had been in.  But he stood tall, tugging back on the wire so Sakura stumbled closer; she huffed, twirling and twisting so the fire wavered and the wire tangled, and Sasuke’s presence stood out amongst the smoke.

She smirked.

With him connected to her, she could pinpoint his movements, could feel every little shift in his footing— control him .  Jerking him towards her again, Sakura wrapped the slack of the wire around his wrists as much and as quickly as she could.  Then, once he was close enough, Sakura kicked at his knee, threw her elbow at his face, slammed a fist into his abdomen until he curled over and the wire was released.

The moment the threads floated away, Sakura put as much distance from him as possible, just as a mighty ball of fire broke through the trees.

“Shit!” She heard Naruto shout, followed by the roar of the fireball.

She didn’t get far, however, before Fugaku was on her, his sword swiping at her belly and coming for her neck.  Sakura evaded well, weaving between downstrokes and uplifts, even managing to land a series of jabs to the older Uchiha’s chest so he stumbled back.  Unfortunately, Sasuke was quick to join his father, his own sword appearing and nicking at her arm. The two Uchiha were quick, moving as one body, as if they were extensions of one another.  They mirrored one another seamlessly, moving in and out of each other’s strikes without fear of catching the other, so precise that Sakura actually found herself backed into a tree.

“Pebble!”

The two Uchiha tensed, both ducking down as the blade of an axe cut through the air above them. The wide movement distorted the smoke, thinning it out just enough to see her father shielding himself from Fugaku’s sword with the flat of his axe.

“Fugaku!  Don’t go running away!  I’ve got an axe to grind with you!”

She snorted at the pun, twisting back to avoid the swing from Sasuke’s katana, then launching up to catch a branch just as Naruto darted by from behind with a small Rasengan.

“Stop that,” Fugaku scolded, twisting to the side to avoid the large blade. “Get serious, Kizashi!”

Kizashi let out a laugh, adjusting his grip so the axe’s head locked around Fugaku’s ankle.  “Oh come on now, don’t lose your head!  Take a moment to rel-axe!”  He pulled, taking Fugaku’s leg out from under him, but the Uchiha’s body disintegrated into a mess of feathers and shrieking trills.

Fugaku reappeared behind him, the tip of his katana positioned at the nape of Kizashi’s skull. “You’re as ridiculous as ever.”

“I think you mean, as sharp as ever.”

Kizashi bowed forward, acting as a springboard for Sakura, who planted her hand on his back and swept a kick at Fugaku, forcing him to jump back to avoid her strike.  She followed up with a wild combination, stringing along a jab to his ribs, a haymaker to the left, a kick to the hip.  He blocked them all, missing only the flick of chakra that cut into his jaw, and catching her leg from beneath the knee, intending on tossing her aside, but forced to release her when Kizashi threw his own son at him.  Fugaku skidded back with the impact, setting Sasuke down just to flicker away as a Naruto clone wrapped its arms around his waist from behind and manicured fingers broke through the ground, yanking Sasuke down in his place.

Reappearing on a branch above Kizashi, Fugaku huffed. “Throwing children?  Isn’t that beneath you?”

Kizashi guffawed in response, maneuvering his axe to block the barrage of kicks Sasuke and Naruto doubled on him.  “That was a good one!”

The Uchiha’s expression pinched in slight confusion. “What?”

“Your joke!” Kizashi twirls his axe, using it’s long handle to deflect Sasuke’s sword and it’s blade to swipe at Naruto’s chest all in one movement.  He hooked the handle around Naruto’s torso, locking his arms into place with it then swung the blond around so his foot caught Sasuke’s jaw.  “Although,” Kizashi spun on his heel, shoving Naruto into a tree with a sharp push-kick to the back and slicing through the trunk of Fugaku’s tree with his axe. “The delivery could’ve been better.”

The wind picked up then, tearing apart the last of the smoke that remained, and seemingly out of nowhere, an electric blue light exploded through the trees.

“Is that—”

“Dad!”

Immediately, Sasuke and Fugaku disappeared in swirls of feathers, while Sakura and Kizashi leapt back, narrowly avoiding the following explosion that clawed at the ground just moments later.  Chaos surrounds them as branches rip apart and rocks scatter, forcing everyone into higher ground until the whirling wind finally dies down, revealing Namikaze Minato in all his glory.

“Minato!” Kizashi cheers, digging his axe into the ground. “I was wondering if you’d be making an appearance!”

“Sorry I’m late,” He greets, canting his head to the side with a smile. “Kushina asked that I buy some shoyu and you know how strange things can get in the Market. I ended up buying too much groceries again.”

Sakura and Sasuke catch each other’s eye then, sharing their own smirks before launching towards the eldest blond with fist and sword ready.  Minato ducked back, avoiding both attacks, and planted a hand into the ground to flip back, only to disappear before even Sasuke’s Sharingan could track him.

“Did you buy pork?” Naruto asked, surging towards Kizashi.  The large man chuckled and easily wove out of Naruto’s punch, landing a swift uppercut that sent him reeling back.

While flickering in and out of Sakura’s combination, Minato hummed. “I did!  How could I forget when that’s all you eat?”

“But did you buy the shoyu?” The rosette asked, growling in frustration when Minato disappeared again and her knuckles dug into the earth so deeply, they nearly got stuck.

With a frown, Minato skidded to an abrupt stop, dust rising to reveal the near-invisible threads of wire he nearly ran right into, then dropped low to get under Sasuke’s high kick.  He caught the Uchiha’s ankle, stood straight and pulled , forcing Sasuke to strain his muscles for balance, letting go only when Sasuke grunted. “Oh.”

Naruto whirled around, mouth agape as his father sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck.  “You forgot the shoyu?!”

Sakura, now standing beside her father, snickered with amusement at the way the former Hokage’s shoulders slumped.  “Kushina-oba is going to wring your neck .”

Kizashi affectionately punched his daughter’s arm, but leaned towards her to not-so-quietly say, “Sakura, don’t Kikkoman while he’s down!”

The joke—while well-timed—wasn’t actually very funny.  It was the matching looks of disgust that Sasuke and Fugaku made that forced out the ugliest snort Sakura had ever made in her life.  She tried to hold it in, but seeing just how red Naruto’s cheeks had gotten, and how twisted his lips were in his attempt at holding in his own laugh, she couldn’t.  She folded over, clutching at her stomach and slapping at Naruto’s side as she cackled .  He laughed with her, wiping at tears and leaning against her for support.

Fugaku sighed, rubbing at his brow as if to ease away his growing headache. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

“I always take everything with a grain of salt.”

“Oi, Jiji,” Naruto managed to say between fits of laughter. “Quit stirring the pot! ”

Sakura put a hand to her lips, biting at her knuckle in an attempt at silencing her laugh as Sasuke’s pale skin took on a hue of nausea.

Unamused, Fugaku sighed, “Kizashi, I swear—”

Minato let out a weak laugh, his hands up and waving in a placating way.  “Alright, let’s calm down now, everyone.  Perhaps it’s best if we just break for a few minutes and...” The former Hokage paused, cerulean eyes downcast and lips fighting against a grin. “... wok it all out?”

Sakura cackled.

Kamen

It was well into the evening when Obito and Kakashi arrived at Training Ground Three.  The place is a disaster, with columns of black smoke and electric blue sparks thrumming from the snapped necks of smoldered trees, and wolfish divots carved into the earth.  Chakra scented the air, creating a thin drapery that smoothed against Kakashi’s skin in greeting, and snapped when he walked through.

All signs of a good training session, Kakshi knew.

“Remember when we used to be the unruly ones?” Obito chuckled, waving his free hand towards the void where trees once were.  His other hand clutched a basket tight. 

Kakashi snorted softly, peering at the Uchiha from over his orange book.  “We still are.  Now we’ve just got a little more out of hand.” His smirk remained in place. “And older.”

Obito kicked him. “Don’t call me old.”

He and Obito shared a chuckle as they walked through the trees and across the brook, reminiscing over their own days of reckless youth.  How many times had they slept here, bundled up in their sensei’s jacket?  Shared meals under summer stars?  Traded pain with bloodied knuckles?

The two came across the rest of Team Seven quickly.  Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura were basking in the remnant sunlight and bantering over the rim of their water bottles.  They looked like hell, covered in bruises and their clothes a tattered, bloody mess. But surprisingly, the Uchiha and Haruno patriarchs and the Fourth Hokage were there as well, chatting easily amongst themselves not too far away.

Sakura noticed them first, of course, perking up and waving in a way reminiscent to her Genin days.  “Senpai!”

Jokingly, Kakashi let his shoulders slump.  He set a hand to his chest in mock agony. “My favorite student, not even noticing me!”

She rolled her eyes, easing back to lean against Sasuke’s chest. “Senpai has food.”

Obito lifted the basket higher, snickering. “Of course I do,” He said. “I’d never let you guys starve after a workout like that.”

“You only brought the food because Rin told you to,” Kakashi pointed out.

“He still brought food,” Naruto said.

“But I’m the one who suggested Hiyashi Chūka,” The Copy-Nin reminded, winking at the straightening Sasuke.  Then, he pulled out—from seemingly out of nowhere—a bottle of sake and lightly shook it from the neck. “And the sake.”

“Okay, okay, you’re both pretty,” Sakura teased, reaching out for the bottle like a child. 

Kakashi dangled it just out of her reach, instead opting to greet his squad’s parents. “Sensei, Fugaku-sama, Kizashi-senpai.  What brings you three out here on a night like this?” He gestured towards their scuffed clothing and disheveled hair. “And looking like this?”

“Oh you know—just reliving our youth,” Kizashi mused.  He draped an arm around the surprisingly lax appearing Uchiha, who didn’t immediately shove the larger man away, much to the Jonin’s surprise. “Right, Fugaku?”

The Uchiha crossed his arms and turned his head away.  “Hn.”  Then, after a moment, he flicked Kizashi’s arm off of him. “I was just helping Sasuke perfect his jutsu.”

“Oh?” Obito, having abandoned his basket in Sakura’s care, came to stand beside Minato. “The big one, right?  Oi, Sasuke.” He looked back to his relative, who was attempting to keep a bowl up and away from both Naruto and Sakura, glared back at him. “Did you name it, yet?”

“No,” He grunted, his free hand shoving Naruto’s face back.  Then, his expression twisted into one of annoyance as he flinched away. “Did you just lick me!?”

“Whatever it is,” Minato began, “I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

A loud frustrated whine came from Naruto, who had slumped down onto the ground with his arms outstretched. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen it, old man!  Teme won’t let any of us see his technique!”

The Yellow Flash put his hands up in defense, smiling weakly.  “I haven’t!  I’ve heard about it, and I’ve felt the remnant chakra so I can only assume.”

“Hopefully, no one will ever have to see it,” Fugaku mumbled, but it seemed only the adults had caught it.  The dark haired man pushed away from the tree he had been leaning on and gave a curt bow and nod to Minato and the others respectively. “It’s time I go.  It was a...pleasure sparring with you both, today.” He turned to Team Seven. “I’ll be sure to give Mikoto your note, Sakura.  Thank you.  Sasuke, I’ll see you at home.  Naruto.” He gave a nod and walked off, disappearing into the trees with the type drama that shadowed men of his breed.

“I should head back, too,” Kizashi yawned. “Mebuki is probably going to go on a tangent about both me and Sakura spending too much time here.” The Haruno shuffled over towards his daughter and outstretched a fist. “I’ll see you back at home, Pebble!”

Sakura stretched over her teammates to bump her own fist with his. “Bye, Papa!”

“Night Papa Haruno!”

Kizashi ruffled both Naruto and Sasuke’s hair, laughing at the glare he received. “Boys.” And then he disappeared.

“I’ll be leaving, as well,” Minato announced. “Enjoy your team dinner.  Be good, Naruto.  No shenanigans, or else your mom will really get upset.”

“Don’t forget the shoyu,” Both Naruto and Sakura shouted, just as Minato disappeared in a flurry of gold.

“Where’s Sai?” Obito asked as he came to sit beside his cousin.  He reached over, plucking a dumpling from Sakura’s plate despite her scowl.  He made a show of biting into it and chewing close to her face, jerking back with a laugh when she raised her fist at him.

“Here.”

The artist appeared out of ink, apparently summoned by the voicing of his name.  He took up a seat beside Naruto, accepting the plate of agedashi tofu immediately offered to him. “Forgive my tardiness.  I had to stop by the hospital.”

“The hospital?  Is everything okay?” Sakura asked, a hand over her mouth to hide her chewing.  She swallowed her mouthful quickly. 

“Aa.  Yamanaka-san came by looking for you,” Sai replied. “There was something wrong with her eye.”

Though confused, Sakura straightened, lowering her plate to her lap. “Her eye?  What happened?”

“She seemed to be having a facial tic as she continuously blinked at an alarmingly rapid pace.  I suggested she go visit a physician to deal with that and she became increasingly upset.”

Naruto snickered, patting at the ex-anbu’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie, while Sakura let out an ungodly snort.  Even Sasuke and Kakashi couldn’t resist the smirks tugging at their lips.  “Sai, you didn’t !”

“She refused to see a doctor so I took her myself, out of concern for her well being.” He frowned, appearing thoughtful, as if he were filing something away in his mind. “Apparently glitter eyeshadow and false eyelashes are heavy on the eyes, which makes the wearer blink often.  I misunderstood.”

Obito reached over to pat the pale nin’s back next, his head shaking in disbelief and chuckles bubbling from his chest.  Sakura, on the other hand, covered her face with her hand and sighed. “Oh Sai...what’d the pig want, anyway?”

“She wished to see you at the Drunken Fist sometime after dinner.  All of us, actually.”

The conversation picked up after that, moving on from Ino to Sakura’s travels into the Land of Earth and her tales of the Tsuchikage infamous apprentice, to Naruto’s complains about his Hiraishin and even a demonstration. Yamato appeared by then, scaring the poor blond out of his skin when he appeared behind him after a jump.  Sasuke even muttered a bit about his latest mission to Suna and subsequent spar with the red haired Kazekage that ended when a giant scorpion attacked them.

It was nice.

“So?  What’s going on, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asked sometime later when the conversation weaned away, actually setting down his bowl.  Sakura did the same, neatly setting her chopsticks over the dish and shifting more comfortably in her seat, while Sasuke leaned back on his hands and Sai canted his head.

“What makes you think something is going on?” Kakashi returned, pushing his mask back up after a sip of sake.

“You bought everyone’s favorites,” Sasuke pointed out, nodding towards the food. “And that’s top shelf sake.”

Obito cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Actually, I bought the food and the sake.”

“Senpai?” Yamato’s brows knitted in confusion, redwood eyes flickering from Kakashi to Obito then back. “Is something going on?  Something we need to be concerned about?”

Obito caught Kakashi’s eye then, looking more anxious than anyone was used to, but then he took a breath.  “Yes, actually,” He began.  Kakashi nodded at him, his eyes crinkling with his smile.  “There’s something I need to tell you guys.”

The team remained silent, sharing a look between one another, but Sakura appeared to be fighting off a grin.  “Well?” Naruto asked. “You gonna spit it out, or what—itai!”

Obito snorted as Naruto curled his lip at the scolding Yamato, then, with his chest puffed out, he announced, “I’ve been named the next Hokage!”

Chapter Text

“SHANNARO!”

The ground rumbled, erupting with explosive shards and dust that spread across the field.  Sparks flew, flickering between twists of metal and clashing steel, while flames danced with the breeze.  Sakura ducked to the side to evade the shuriken that zipped towards her, then flipped backwards to avoid and kick aside the fist aimed at her stomach.  She bounced on her heels for a moment, jade eyes scanning the battleground for her opponents.

There!

Arms came out of the dust, attempting to encircle her waist, so Sakura shifted on her feet, widening her stance and bracing with her shoulders down.  Her left hand jutted out, her fingers twisting into the underarm fabric of her opponent’s shirt while her right grabbed at his pants; and with a roar, she threw him to the side as if he weighed nothing.   A grunt— ”What the hell, Sakura!?” —comes out of her maneuver, along with a booming crash, but she didn’t have the time to observe her handiwork because a boot was flying at her.  She batted the push-kick aside and sidestepped out of the following jab, blocking the next two punches just to gasp in shocked pain as a knee flew into her stomach.

Sakura doubled over, desperately sucking in air while simultaneously spitting out a mixture of blood and spit, and before she could refocus, she was thrown into a thicket of trees by one hell of a kick.  Wood splintered all around her, digging into her back and biting into her shoulders; and when she finally stopped, all she could do was lay there to catch her breath.

A minute passed as she fought to steady her spiked adrenaline, in which she scanned the treeline and let her chakra slosh around in warming waves.

“Sakura?!”

Gritting her teeth, Sakura let out a frustrated growl and slammed her fist into the ground, making it vibrate with her growing ire.  “I’m fine!”

Branches snapped at her response, accompanied with the heavy breathing and a loud snarl.  A blur of white appeared, all dirt-speckled fur and black claws, so Sakura threw her right arm over her face just as her back hit the ground.  Agony shot through her, emanating from the sharp teeth that sunk into her arm, ripping a razored, “Fuck!” from her throat.

“Gotcha! Good job, Akamaru!"

Biting through the pain, Sakura curled up, positioning her feet just beneath the ninken's hips; then, while pulsating her chakra in her arm, she kicked him up and over her, using the momentum to roll onto her feet.  Immediately, he lunged for her again, so Sakura flash-stepped back, leaving a clone in her place; but upon grounding, a sharp-nailed claw swiped at her, making her bow back to avoid it.

Kiba simpered, his tenebrous gaze aglow with smoky, wolfish undertones. "Gotcha."

He was relentless, coming at her without pause—swiping and blocking so quickly, Sakura had no choice but to block and step back with every blow. But he feigned right; she threw her arms up to guard her face, and that's when he rammed the flat of his boot into her stomach. She stumbled back into the trunk of a tree with a pained gasp, ducking as he swung at her again. Bark erupted from the impact of his strike, but it was enough of a distraction. She shot forward, thrusting her fist right into Kiba's belly, sending him flying through the wooded area and back out into the open field.  She raced after him, breaking through the treeline and back into the fray.  She jumped over the outcropping remnants of her previous attacks, sliding across the ground to skirt under Shino's high kick and twirling on her heels to avoid wayward kunai.

An explosion intercepted her, forcing her to step back on the fly; and out of the flames, came the butt end of a bo staff.  Sakura ducked back, deftly falling into a back-handspring to get some distance, but it wasn’t enough.  Tenten came at her with the determination of a bull, exercising flashy maneuvers that would've made Sakura's head spin if not for her experience with the weapons mistress.  So she boded her time, dodging and waiting until—there! She twisted to dodge the weapon and grabbed it, yanking it and its owner towards her, then executed a high, swooping kick that dropped the bun-haired brunette.  Then a flurry of twin attacks came at her—left jab, right uppercut, a pair of elbows thrown at her face—the aggressive attack pattern of the Hyuuga.  She evaded their chakra-laden fingers with little struggle, silently counting their steps as they moved, but on the ninth strike, green spandex skirted her peripherals and pain bloomed in her left knee.

Sakura yelped, dropping to her right knee as her left gave out. And before she could even process what was happening, Lee was in front of her, somehow grinning both determinedly and apologetically, and his leg already mid-kick. She threw her arms up to block his attack but he was a split second faster, sending her flying back, end over end until she managed to right herself and stop by digging her nails into the earth.

Spitting out a glob of blood and saliva, Sakura made to stand, only for her muscles to stall.  Widening her eyes, Sakura raised her arm but the limb trembled, unable to move.  And that's when she noticed her shadow.

It was stretched out across the way, warping as it met an outcropping of broken ground.

She growled—”Damn it, Shikamaru!”—her body trembling as she fought against the shadow bindings, but her struggle was in vain, as the inch she gained was easily forced back.  Footsteps sprinted towards her.

“Neji!”

“On it!”

Neji bolted towards her, a faint blue glow trailing behind him, emanating from his fingertips.  Sakura summoned her chakra, trying to corral it into her arms so she could pull them together in defense but Shikamaru’s hold on her was vice.  So she braced herself for the first blow, but just as Neji dipped forward, his right hand coming up to strike, the earth between them shattered and Naruto exploded out of the ground.  Neji aborted his attack, jumping back just enough to avoid reliving his Chunin Exam uppercut to the chin.  At the same time, another body rolled over Sakura’s back and her weapon pouch shifted; she closed her eyes seconds before a blinding, white light erupted around them.

Her stomach lifted into her throat and dropped back down all in one second, disorienting her for a stint, but when she opened her eyes, she and Naruto were kneeling at the edge of the field.  His orange and black jacket had been discarded, leaving him in a scratched, mesh plate armor; and blood trickled from the side of his head, over his eye.  Wiping the sweat from her brow onto her shoulder, Sakura offered him a smile and an outstretched fist.  “Thanks.”

He beamed, panting just as heavily as her, and tapped his knuckles against her own.  “Don’t mention it.”

She was just about to say something else, but movement behind him caught her attention. "Behind you!"

Naruto turned, one arm up to block the kick that would’ve blindsided him, maneuvering so he could grab his attacker’s leg; he gripped Ino’s ankle and, using his shoulder for leverage, threw her up and over them.  A clone of him appeared, catching the blonde around the waist and dropping back into a suplex, just for her body to dissipate into a plume of lilac smoke.

“Poison!” Sakura shouted, jumping back a few feet back.  Naruto made to follow, but wires shot out of the haze and wound around his limbs, rooting him in place as the toxic smoke swirled around him.  Cursing, Sakura formed the seal for tori and sucked in a breath, but before she could fully summon her chakra, the wind around her picked up to violent levels, and a dreadful whistling stabbed at her ears.

“Gatsūga!”

Two blurs burst out of the treeline, twisting and bee-lining right towards her.  She redirected her chakra to her legs, preparing to leap out of the way when she came face to face with the Uchiha emblem.  A titanic ball of flames bloomed before her—so massive it seemed more like a wall.  And it was blinding—so hot that Sakura had to step back to relieve the uncomfortable burn against her cheeks, and it was sucked into the vortex spun by their opponents, forcing them to abort their jutsu and retreat.

Sasuke glanced at Sakura from over his shoulder, using his chokutō to block a spate of shuriken that flew at him. “Watch him!”

In a flash, Sasuke had crossed the field, appearing in the middle of their adversaries' flank.  His Sharingan burnished, dancing from one person to the next, glimmering mirthfully as one set of eyes weren’t quite quick enough to look away. He swiveled on his feet, smoothly removing and unraveling a scroll from a holster on his vest, then swiped the blood from his lip over a seal in the middle. Smoke obscured everyone's view, but quickly dissipated as a volley of weapons shot out of the cloud.

Everyone scattered with hushed curses, which only grew louder as Sasuke's shuriken changed course to follow them like heat-seeking missiles.  Kiba and Akamaru crashed to the ground as weapons rigged with wire tightened around their legs, while Lee was pinned to a tree he ducked behind.  Neji and Hinata shot to the front of the group, electric blue chakra emanating from their fingertips.

"Kaiten!"

Weapons crashed against the Hyuugas' chakra domes—but only half clattered to the ground.  The rest changed course with the flick of Sasuke's wrists, bouncing off one another to stay on course.  Ino spat out a chipped, "Damn it!" when a massive Fuuma shuriken embedded into the tree where her head had been.  Shino and Chouji disappeared into one of the many craters that riddled the stadium grounds.

"I got it!"

Another plume of smoke blossomed out of the arena, this time swirling around Tenten, who unleashed a retaliating hail of weapons.  Sasuke tsked, still firing his arsenal whilst evading the responding barrage, flickering across the battlefield as he did so. Then, whilst dodging the colossal arm that grabbed at him and the lingering shadows, he formed another set of seals. The resulting flames danced, their luminosity reflecting over the near-invisible wires that spider-webbed across the field from where they were pinched between his knuckles, before they rapidly consumed the wire.

At the same time, Sakura used a kunai to snip Naruto free of his bindings.  His shoulders shook as he coughed and he was short of breath, his pupils blown a little wider than usual, but Sakura wasn't too concerned.

“I'm fine," He wheezed, waving a hand dismissively when Sakura reached for him. “Kurama’s got it handled."

A gust of wind and a whisper of chakra against the back of her neck announced Sasuke's return, making Sakura's head and shoulders drop in relief.  The adrenaline rushed beneath her skin, interweaving with her chakra and making it thrum in her veins.  They were outnumbered, their opponents regrouping and shaking out their own injuries with hungry grins about their faces.  And the weight of a thousand stares were on them, watching with unbridled anticipation.

But Sakura still wasn’t concerned.

“Oi!  Don’t tell me you guys are giving up already,” Came a shout. “We’re just getting started!"

Naruto jolted at the taunt; he raised a fist, comedically shaking it in challenge.  “Bite me, Dog Boy!”

Across the field, a heavily singed and now freed Kiba tensed, also shaking his hand while Akamaru growled.  “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?!”

Determination glinted in Naruto’s eyes, revitalized by the prospect of a good fight, and his chakra flared, blanketing the battlefield in prankish intent. “Come and say that to my face, Kiba!”

A loud, fervent roar accompanied his words as all around them, people cheered, leaning over the railing of the stadium seats and yelling out their own little jeers.  Civilian kids were at the forefront of the bleachers, screaming their support while Chunin and Jonin lounged about with flushed cheeks and near-empty flasks, and masked figures lurked in the shadows.  A collective laugh was heard in the stands closest to them, and even some of their opponents snickered at their display.  

Sasuke huffed despite the quirking of his lips, and smacked the back of his teammate’s head. “Shut up, Dobe.  Focus.”

Naruto didn’t even flinch, too enthralled in the electrified atmosphere to turn his wrath onto the Uchiha.  He pointed at Shikamaru, who caught his breath on one knee, whilst cutting Lee out of his bindings.  “You too, Shikamaru!  I’m coming after you once I’m done with Dog Breath!!”

“Bring it on, Naruto!”

Chuckling at her teammate’s antics, Sakura confidently placed a glowing hand upon both men’s shoulders. She pushed chakra into them, quickly but carefully mending the gashes and bite wounds that littered their individual bodies while boasting, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m finally all warmed up.”

“Heh, me too." Naruto chuckled, tossing his head from side to side until his neck gave a satisfying crack.  Then he began cracking his knuckles.  “So how do you guys wanna do this?”

“We don’t have all day, ya’know!” Came another taunt, this time from Ino, who playfully twirled a kunai around her finger. Beside her, Tenten spun her bo staff overhead before positioning it defensively while Lee, Neji and Hinata adjusted their stances.

Sakura’s smirk returned. She raised her fists to float defensively in front of her, making a show of pointing at the grinning kunoichi, cracking her knuckles as she balled them, then flicking the tip of her nose with her thumb in taunt. “I call the Pig.”

Sasuke snorted, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.  But his gaze was locked, focused entirely on the two Hyuugas, who were slowly backing into the near-demolished treeline.  His arm shot up suddenly, plucking an inbound shuriken from the air.  A speck of blood dribbled down his finger, mirroring the deep scarlet hue that overtook his eyes.  “Just try to keep up with us, Dobe."

Kamen

Vermilion burnished behind snowy porcelain, cataloging every explosion, every shadow, and every dash of pink that flashed across the field.

He watched as his little cousin took on the two Hyuugas; as a seemingly endless sea of Uzumakis ran amok, coming to life just as quickly as they were snuffed out—as Haruno canceled out the Akimichi boy's Bubun Baika no Jutsu with her tiny fist. 

A Rookie Free for All, turned against Team Seven.

Shisui suppressed a laugh. He should've been more attentive to the world around him—he was cloaked and polished, tasked with ensuring that the stadium filled with people was safe from potential harm whilst filing away the names of prospective Anbu candidates. Yet, he couldn't find the strength to look away from the battle before him.  Like every time in the past, it was as if he were drawn to the battle, unable to look away because of some invisible entity tethering him in place.  Goosebumps rose upon his skin and his chakra thrummed with heated anticipation, while liquid fire coursed through his veins.

This scrum between rookies was just the beginning, paving the way for much greater battles to come in these next few days.

And he was ready for it. 

The stadium fell into a collective gasp as a wall of fire so magnificent, they had to shield their eyes, blazed across the field, it's golden flames twinged with a hint of blue.  Pride swelled in Shisui's chest at the sheer intensity of his cousin's flames, as he was sure they would've been seen as far out as the Uchiha Compound.  The Uchiha that attended the show cheered for their fellow clansmen, some standing with raised fists, and a few levels down, Shisui caught the near imperceptible lifting of Itachi's shoulders.

Without his permission, Shisui's gaze bypassed the torrential chaos that was the arena, following the trail of destruction until it landed on Jonin Haruno.  She was locked in battle with the Akimichi heir—or more specifically, she had her arms locked around his throat, having vaulted up his towering body via the joint of his hip.  She held him tight, the strain on her face on par with the man she was choking, but Akimichi managed to grab a hold of her shirt.  He fought against her, dropping to his knees at one point, until he was able to rip her away and slam her into the ground.  But, as always, she was quick to recover, rising from the rubble of her super-sized slam without much more than the exaggerated shaking of her body.

Shisui couldn't hear the words the two exchanged as he was too high up in the stands, but Haruno laughed, pointing at Akimichi and nodding. Then, in typical Haruno fashion, she waved her hands in a come at me motion.

And holy fuck, was she glowing.

Confidence radiated out of her, pouring out into her chakra and powering her movements.  He could feel it ghosting over the tips of his ears as her chakra settled on the breeze, could taste it as it seeped into the sockets of his mask and brushed against the edge of his lips.

The urge to fight or fuck came full force as he watched Haruno meet her big-boned opponent blow-for-blow and kick-for-kick.  She ducked beneath the larger man's high jab, thrusting her elbow into his gut and sending him flying into the stadium wall across the arena, before darting straight for the Yamanaka heiress. The blonde girl threw a high kick but Haruno dove low, feigning a sweeping kick, just to grab Yamanaka's leg and yank it high above their heads, making her teeter back. But Yamanaka was limber, using the momentum to complete a back handspring.  Haruno didn't let her breathe, closing the distance and stringing together a series of punches that would've absolutely devastated the T&I operative, had every strike made contact.

Eventually Haruno broke through their little back-and-forth, springing into the air and hooking her legs around the blonde's neck. She threw her weight backwards, twisting sideways and planting her hands on the ground, roughly taking her friend down in one smooth movement, before straddling her. 

And fuck, what he would give to be in that position right now.

Long, catlike lashes fell over lusty, scarlet orbs and leather-clad fingers wandered, carefully traveling from Shisui's sides to the front of his pants, where his cock laid stiff. He splayed his hand over the bulge in his pants, slowly ghosting his fingers up and along its length a few times. A quick glance at the audience around him ensured not a single person had a care for his presence, all too engrossed in the battle below to even think about his cloaked figure.  Shisui's drew his tongue across his lips.

Kami, he had a problem. 

Carefully, as not to disturb his cloak, he tugged his right glove off and reached a little higher, experimentally dipping his fingers over the waistband of his trousers.  Then, once a fiery shiver rippled against his flesh, Shisui slipped his hand into his pants. Fuck.  His skin was already so hot, his lower back and navel swirling with fiery, wanting intent.  He bit down on a flustered inhale as his fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, then carefully—so no one would notice—he began to stroke himself.  Snippets of that night played in his head, flickering from one moment to the next; and with his Sharingan, it was as if he were still there. He could feel her all around him—her pretty little pussy clenching around him just like his hand was now, while pearly strings of come dribbled down from where he pounded into her. He could feel her nails digging into his skin, carving hellraised wings into his back, while her lips, tongue and teeth tattooed his body with her name.

She was so good, taking his cock like the good girl he knew she was, making all these beautiful little sounds and facial expressions as he manhandled her into twenty different positions.

He couldn't wait to make her repeat them.

And fuck, to think he had fallen so low—reduced to swallowing pleasured breaths as he touched himself in a busy crowd like some teenaged deviant—all because of some woman.

Below him, Haruno roared. Her chakra flared, tickling the noses of those in the front row as her fist impacted with the ground. The stadium rattled.  The crowd screamed with delirium. Children jumped up and down while betting men handed off their lost ryo.  Yamanaka didn’t get back up.

No, Shisui thought, whilst languidly twisting his wrist. His vision flashed, scarlet hues making way for flushed skin and proud, battle-drunk eyes. His thumb swirled around the head of his cock, further spreading the crystalline droplets that beaded there. His breath hitched.  His heart sped up.  Haruno wasn't just some woman.

At least, not anymore.

"Okami-taichou, copy."

At the murmuring of his title, Shisui's hand slowed its movements, his slickened fingers tightening around the base of his cock in an attempt at soothing his growing arousal.  Shisui closed his eyes, sucking in a steadying breath and mentally cursing himself for both his broken composure and Genma's timing.  Then, while tucking himself into the waistband of his pants, Shisui channeled a breath of chakra into the receptor around his neck and replied with an unaffected, “Copy.”

Kamen

“Alright.  I’m never doing this again.”

Finishing off the last of her bottled water, Sakura chortled and draped her sore arms over Ino and Shikamaru’s shoulders.  She was thankful for the shade the stadium’s concourse provided, because summer wasn’t quite ready to step out of the spotlight, and autumn seemed content with waiting.  Sweat beaded the edge of her hairline, dripping into her eyes and down the collar of her shirt; and if not for the fact that she was sure she’d get a sunburn, she would’ve just stripped out of the damp garment.

“Oh come on,” She breathed, playfully bumping her hip against Ino’s. “That was fun!”

“Fun?” Ino scoffed, passing her half-emptied bottle to Shikamaru.  Her skin was flushed from cheek to chest, her hair knotted and tousled from their scrum, while smears of gray underlined her lower lashes.  “That’s a weird way to say exhausting. ”

Across from her, Tenten's head dropped back against the cool wall and she massaged her left shoulder. "I’m with Ino on this.  I'm more exhausted than when Lee and Gai-sensei made us race here from Suna!  How the hell do you guys always have so much energy?"

Naruto, who had his hands clasped at the back of his neck, barked a laugh. "We're just awesome, dattebayo!"

Sakura rolled her eyes, purposely stepping on the back of her cocky teammate’s sandal when he began walking over towards Hinata.  Catching himself, he whirled around, tugging on his lower eyelid with his finger while sticking his tongue out, which Sakura challenged with a balled fist. When he stuck his nose in the air and sauntered off, Sakura bit at a smile, responding, "When you have Kakashi-sensei and Obito-senpai as mentors, and these two idiots as teammates, you have to have a lot of energy to put up with their bullshit."

“Hey! Say that to my face!"

Sakura's nose scrunched up. "I just did!"

At the same time, Sasuke shook his head and hid his face with his hand. "She just did."

"I personally enjoyed the challenge!" Lee interrupted.  He was sitting between a half-conscious Chouji and a meditating Neji, while Hinata smeared ointment over his disgustingly bruised calves.  "It's refreshing to have such an engaging spar with so many talented comrades!  Especially in front of our new Kage!"

"I agree," Shino murmured, pushing his glasses higher up his nose.  He appeared mostly unaffected by their spar, with only singed hems and scuffs of dirt acting as an indication to his participation.  But the exhaustion was evident in his voice.  "Why? Because it isn't often I get to spend time with my friends."

"I'll drink to that," Kiba tiredly mumbled.  He was sprawled out on the ground beside Akamaru, soaking wet with his mesh armor torn away and his hair messier than normal, while his pup eagerly lapped at the water Sasuke gingerly poured out over his owner's head. “I’m just glad we were the first main event, because now we get to relax for the rest of the day!”

"Speak for yourself," Sasuke muttered, running a hand through sweat-slicked hair. "We have one more fight to go."

"Sucks to suck, doesn't it?" Kiba teased, curling up and shielding himself when the Uchiha feigned a kick at his side.

The sounds of the next battle ricocheted through the tunnel, followed by the faint shaking of the ground and the hissing of what must’ve been a wind-based jutsu.  Their conversation shifted from then on, breaking into separate chats amongst them that ranged from lionized appraisals to helpful tips, to what their plans were for the night; while Sakura, Hinata and Ino tended to everyone's injuries.

They had gone all out, utilizing their best techniques and their dirtiest tricks—even using their flashiest moves—all so the entire village and their newly elected Hokage could see just how powerful the Rookie 12 Class was.  But despite the intensity of their battle, a majority of their injuries were pretty tame, all things considering. Two fingers in Lee’s right hand, for example, were broken and his shins were painted every shade of color under the sun; Shino’s keirakukei were blocked while three of Kiba’s ribs were cracked and Tenten’s shoulder was dislocated.  Chouji suffered some significant burns and Shikamaru had a pretty gnarly gash down his leg, but those were all things she and a little bit of rest could fix.

It had to have been half an hour of healing and snarky back-and-forths before Sakura finally straightened up; raising her arms above her head and stretching until she felt that satisfying pop in her shoulders and lower back. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving." 

"Finally someone said it!" Chouji, suddenly revitalized, jumped up, crumpling the empty bag of chips he previously scarfed down. "Don't get me wrong: I'm glad to see you guys but there's one-hundred fifty-seven food stalls calling my name!"

Looking to the sky in exasperation, Ino groaned and slapped a palm to her forehead. "Of course you counted all the stalls! And here I thought you were a little too quiet."

“Don’t act like you aren’t fighting an empty stomach, Ino!  I saw you eyeing my barbecue chips!"

"I was not!"

Shikamaru shook his head, but he couldn't hide the upwards tilt of his lips. "Alright, alright. We better get going before these two start getting hangry." He stood up, extending a hand for Ino to take and hauling her to her feet. "We'll see you guys later."

"We're gonna head out, too," Kiba announced. Akamaru huffed, apparently unwilling to get up so soon, but when his master scratched the back of his ear in temptation, he stood up with a stretch. "Akamaru needs a bath and I gotta help get the pups ready.”

Shino was already walking away, bidding the group goodbye with a wave over his shoulder.

"Neji-nii and I will be leaving also," Hinata related, whilst packing away her medical balms. "We’ll see you all tonight."

After a nudge from Sasuke, Naruto scrambled to his feet, making his way back to the Hyuuga heiress and biting down on his curses when Neji—who still maintained that cool facade—casually hooked his foot around the blond's ankle and tripped him.  He threw a glare at the indifferent Hyuuga, letting it sweep over the snickering group, but smiled kindly at the giggling Hinata. "We'll be there!"

One by one, everyone said their goodbyes, promising to meet up later in the night with friendly waves and playful taunts.  And it wasn't until they were alone, that Sakura and Sasuke rounded on their googly-eyed teammate. They each threw an arm around him, with Sasuke ultimately yanking them closer to him with a puckish smirtle. 

"You’re such a loser," The Uchiha teased, ruffling already unkempt, blond hair in a rare display of fondness.

Naruto deflated, slumping forward with a sigh. "I know."

With a snort, Sakura pinched Naruto's cheek, even as he half-heartedly batted her hand away. "It's cute!"

"I'm not going for cute," Naruto whined, abandoning his attempt at fighting her off. "Neji hates me."

Sasuke let out a chipped bark of a laugh, tightening his hold around Naruto's neck.  "Neji hates everyone.  You're fine."

"Just be yourself, Naruto." Sakura affectionately patted his chest, then leaned her head against his shoulder. "Hinata has practically been in love with you since we were kids."

"Yeah," Sasuke agreed. "She probably accepted that you’ll always look like an idiot."

Naruto tore himself out of their grasp, facing them with a raised fist and fire in his eyes.  "What’d you say?!  Say that to my face!"

But neither Sakura or Sasuke missed a beat, walking around him with a casual, “I just did,” and “He just did.”

"Oi!  You guys are supposed to be comforting me, not picking on me!  Get back here!"

Kamen

Team Seven exited the stadium with food on the brain, chasing the smell of gyoza and takoyaki with growling stomachs and watering mouths.  As per usual, Sasuke and Naruto were bickering over something Sakura didn’t really care to listen to, far more content with laying her head against the former’s shoulder as he carried her, piggyback-style.  But as annoying as the two’s arguing was, it was just as endearing.

It was nostalgic, reminding her of their Genin days—being carried home after a too-aggressive spar, while Naruto and Sasuke argued over who’s fault it was that she was hurt.  They'd all be wrapped in bandages and slick with burn salves, nursing bruises that Rin wouldn’t heal.  Sasuke used to grumble when she turned to him over Naruto, the tips of his ears pink and his mouth a firm line of a frown. But he always relented in the end.  Probably because Naruto always complained about how heavy she was, and even dropped her one of the few times she let him.  

A smile crept upon her face as she recalled that day.

They were thirteen, hiding in the verdant canopies of Training Ground Three while Kakashi’s ninken sought them out—to simulate an encounter with a tracker squad.  They were supposed to evade the pups through the night but were painfully unsuccessful—with Naruto having been caught by Pakkun, Sasuke by Bull and Akino, and her by Bisuke, just before dawn.  And because it was stacked on top of her day training with Tsunade, she was so exhausted that she didn’t object to him offering her his back.  He carried her home while Sasuke followed, the two tossing insults to one another as she toed the edge of consciousness. And then, with one backhanded comment, Sakura went from dreaming about ice cream, to falling on her ass as Naruto tackled their dark-haired teammate.

If not for Rin, Kakashi and Obito appearing out of nowhere to separate them all, she would’ve beat the shit out of him.

“Oi, Sakura.”

She straightened up at her name, her expression brightening as a skewer of steaming karaage was presented to her.  Sasuke waved the skewer in front of her face, looking back at her with what she would say was mild concern.  “Eat.”

Sakura took the treat from him with a grateful smile and a soft, “Thanks!” before tearing a clump of tender chicken from the stick.

“I can feel your stomach growling.” Sasuke snorted, reaching back to flick her forehead. “What’s running around in that head of yours?”

“Yeah,” Naruto chirped from around his own skewer. “Youf 'en fo wiet!”

Swallowing her bite, Sakura turned away from them to hide her blush. “Just thinking.”

“About?” Sasuke asked.  He adjusted his grip on Sakura, jostling her around and forcing her to tighten her hold on him.

“About the first time Kakashi-sensei ran the tracker simulation on us.” She tore off another mouthful of chicken, then offered a bite to the Uchiha, who plucked off his own piece. "And we had to hide from his ninken until dawn."

“Aa.  When Dobe dropped you.  I remember that.”

At that, Naruto threw his hands up in the air, unknowingly flinging a piece of chicken off of his stick, and let out an exasperated groan.  “You guys always gotta bring that up!  That was like, ten years ago!”

“And my ass will never forget it,” Sakura sniped.

“I said I was sorry,” The blond continued to whine.  He moved closer, purposely shouldering Sasuke and causing him to stumble over his own feet and nearly into a passing couple.  Ignoring Sasuke’s hiss—”Dobe!”—Naruto wrapped an arm around Sakura’s torso; then, just as she bit off another piece of chicken, he tore her off of Sasuke with a taunting, “I’ll make it up to you now!”

Shrieking with a mixture of surprise and amusement, Sakura latched onto Naruto, who flash-stepped a few yards away.  Sasuke’s curse carried over the crowded walkway, and just as Naruto flash-stepped again, Sasuke’s form flickered into view.  Their game of cat and mouse went on for a few minutes, with Sakura laughing and half-heartedly demanding to be put down after losing her skewer of karaage, while Naruto and Sasuke raced through the busy streets.  And somewhere between the stadium and Ichiraku, a gaggle of young academy students tagged along (with Sasuke's persuasion), pursuing Naruto with shouts of, “Put Sakura-sama down!” and “Save Sakura-sama!”

Sakura was playfully beating on Naruto’s back when they came to a stop in front of the coveted ramen shop.  Sasuke abandoned the chase, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and a smirk in place as the kids surrounded Naruto and demanded he let the rosette go.  And Naruto fed into their adventure, raising Sakura over his head and challenging them to a fight for her freedom—playfully of course.  At least, it was until a little girl rushed forward and slammed her tiny fist into his stomach, making him drop to his knees.

Now free of Naruto’s clutches, Sakura doubled over with a full-bellied cackle at the resulting dogpile, wiping tears from her eyes as Naruto clamored to his feet with children clinging to his arms.  She sauntered away from the scene, gasping for breath as she joined Sasuke, who had turned away and hid his snickering behind his hand. 

“Oh Kami,” She managed between breaths. “Should we save him?”

Biting the tail end of a chuckle, Sasuke shook his head. “Do you really want to?”

With the word “no” reflected in her eyes, Sakura fanned her flushed face with her hand and fought off another wave of laughter.  They watched for a few more minutes as Naruto and a clone fought off the academy students, who moved on from their little gang-styled jumping to actual strings of combinations.  Sakura and Sasuke even encouraged them, calling out little jeers of advice while others looked on in obvious amusement, until Naruto finally admitted defeat in the hilarious form of a blank, white tag on a kunai.

“Alright, alright,” Sakura called, wading into the small flock of children.  She crouched down to their level, high-fiving and fist-bumping the near-vibrating tots. “Great job, everyone!  At this rate, you’ll all be great shinobi and kunoichi!”

The kids erupted into a crescendo of excited cheers, throwing around questions like “Do you really think so?” and “Will you train me when I’m older?” while Naruto huffed and made his way towards Sasuke.  “You sicked kids on me!  That’s totally unfair!”

Sasuke shook his head, not even bothering to hide the mirth in his voice.  “Cry about it.”

With a majority of the children dispersed, Sakura finally joined her teammates, stopping at a little stall to trade coins for water on the way.  “You okay?” She asked before taking a gulp of water.

“You mean other than my now growing fear of kids?” Naruto retorted, taking the water for himself.

Sakura reached up to ruffle the taller man’s hair, standing on her toes and switching hands when he jerked away from her. “That’s what you get for making me drop my karaage!”

“I’ll buy you a new one!”

She was about to retort with, “You better throw in some kakigori,” but the words died on her tongue as a strange chakra signature appeared just a ways away.  She stilled, her mouth snapping shut as she focused on the new signature.

It was familiar—cool but dry, and a little grainy against her skin. After a moment, two more signatures reached her; both with that dry, grainy feel, but slightly…different.   One was very fluid, circulating in wispy motions while the other was more restrained, idling around in lazy currents.  Recognition settled on her shoulders, making Sakura jolt to attention.  She whirled around towards the direction of the chakra signatures.  “Look!”

Naruto squinted, one hand over his eyes to block the sun, but then he too perked up. "Gaara!"

Just a few stalls down, the Kazekage lifted a hand in greeting, the traces of a smile making way. Beside him, Temari and Kankuro waved in increasing levels of enthusiasm. They were dressed casually, with Gaara in his typical red coat and Temari in that black yukata, Kankuro in a short sleeved version of his jumpsuit—but they wore the long, ruddy cloaks with blue and gold detailing that screamed Suna Royalty.

Naruto raced off, closing the gap between them in just a few steps and yanking the redhead into a bone-crushing embrace. "It's been a while!"

Meanwhile, Sasuke and Sakura followed after their teammate with a bit more tact, walking with purpose rather than sprinting and shaking their heads.

"Subaku," Sasuke greeted upon reaching the visitors, extending his fist. 

"Hm. Uchiha." Kankuro met him halfway, bumping his knuckles against the Uchiha's with a little smicker. Then, he clasped his hand around the top of Sasuke's forearm, waiting for Sasuke to do the same before giving it one firm shake—just as they did in Suna. "It's good to see you guys."

"Temari! It's so great to see you!" Sakura cooed, pulling back from their own embrace to hold her hands. "You look great!" Then, with mischief coloring her eyes, Sakura hid her mouth with her hand and whispered, "Shikamaru is gonna be so excited to see you."

The blonde disguised her blush with the rolling of her eyes and the wave of her hand, but her excitement was evident. "Thanks, Sakura. You look pretty good yourself!” She reached behind Sakura, taking a lock of rose hair, and smooths her fingers down to the tips. “And your hair!  It’s so long now!"

"Yeah, look at you." Kankuro, having abandoned Sasuke, dipped back and set a hand over his heart as he spoke, taking Sakura's hand with the other and coaxing a spin out of her.  Then, he flattened his hand against hers, forming a prayer steeple, and bowed his head towards her.  "Every time I see you, it's like my heart starts all over again."

Sakura snorted but returned the Sunagakure greeting by reciprocating his actions, bowing her head towards their joined hands. "Oh you stop that! That is such bad taste!"

Kankuro raised his hands in surrender. “I can’t help it!  I’m glad you’re the first face I see every time my heart starts back up.”

“Kankuro,” Gaara admonished.  “Stop harassing Sakura-san.  As the savior of your life, she owns the right to take it, should she find you annoying enough.” He finished greeting Sasuke, before addressing Sakura just as Kankuro had—forming a steeple with their hands and bowing his head.  But when she leaned in for her end of the greeting, he whispered, “You may elect to ignore him, as I do.”

Sakura giggled at that, pulling Gaara in for a hug now that the formalities were out of the way. “Welcome back to Konoha, Kazekage-sama.”

Beyond the scrunching of his nose at the title, Gaara retained his passive mask, returning the embrace and pulling away with a delighted, “Thank you.  We are pleased to be invited and are excited to observe your celebrations."

“Are you here for the festival?” Naruto asked, once he traded formal greetings with Temari and Kankuro.

“Yes,” The redhead affirmed. “We will remain in the village for one extra day.”

“That’s great!  Man!  It’s been a while!"

Kankuro, who towered over Naruto by a little over an inch, chuckled and pulled the blond up against his side with an arm around his shoulder. “And you still haven’t gotten any taller!”

Growling, Naruto pushed Kankuro away. “Screw you!  We’re the same height, Asshole!”

As the two went at it, bandying words, Sasuke turned to Gaara with a mischievous simper.  “So, how do you feel about that rematch you owe me?”

At the prospect of a worthwhile challenge, Gaara's lips lifted at one corner. “I may have time later tonight, after I meet with Hokage-sama.”

Sharing a look that clearly conveyed their exasperation, Temari and Sakura sighed. 

Kamen

Music traveled upon the breeze, intercepted by the chiming giggles of children and ringing bells, and the sound of popping balloons.  Shinobi and civilians alike roamed the streets, dressed in colorful yukata or battle-scuffed blues with skewered squid and shaved ice in hand.

Shisui's nose crinkled as the breeze caressed his cheek in a way that tricked his mind into thinking his mask was still in place, prompting him to thread his fingers through his hair to ease the phantom feeling.  They'd been stripped of their polish within the hour, much to his delight, but decompressing after the shift was always a lengthy endeavor for him.  It was difficult, sometimes, to get back into the right mindset, even if his work detail wasn't necessarily arduous.  Whether it was weeks-long assignments to eradicate a troupe of black market soldiers, a mission to backup injured Jonin, or even guard duty—it always made Shisui feel...sluggish.  Like he was wading through water while wearing a thick coat, or coming out of a long but fruitless sleep.

It was the same for Itachi, Shisui knew, but his cousin's more reticent attitude meant he was better at concealing it.

It didn't help that he was so disappointed.  He had wanted to watch the end of the Rookie fight—not just because he had been interrupted mid-stroke—but because his shift was supposed to end with that fight.  He wanted to see just how much his cousin had improved since they started training together again, and he wanted to see the carnage his favorite rookie team left in their wake while blue-twinged flames illuminated their faces.

Grunting, Shisui turned to face Itachi, who was trading some ryo for two sticks of dango.  Of course.  "Oi, leave some sweets for the rest of the village, 'Tachi-chan."

Itachi finished his transaction with the polite tilt of his head before coming to Shisui's side.  The younger man's face was blank, revealing only a hint of ire in the way his head canted towards him.  He raised the dango sticks between them.  "Don't tease me. I bought you one."

Shisui took the offered treat with a barked chuckle, then with his jaw, he gestured to the blue, silk bag Itachi clutched at his side.  "Are you gonna share all of that? Or are you just gonna sulk and eat it all on your own?"

Itachi stalked off, biting into the pink dumpling with a casual, "Not if you can't play nice."

One short flash-step was all it took to catch up to his cousin, who passed his goodie bag to his other hand, away from him.  An amused hum purred from around Shisui's own stick of dango. "You know I could take that from you if I really wanted to."

Vermilion flashed, followed by a slash of inky wings.  Ice pressed against the side of Shisui's neck, razor sharp and daring, but when he reached for it, there was nothing there. He blinked, stomping down on the chill that threatened to wind up his spine; but when he looked at Itachi, the younger man just continued walking without sparing him a second glance.  "How about we don't play that game."

Shaking away the remnant shiver, Shisui chuckled and raised his hands in a placating gesture, willing his own sharingan to fade away. "I see where Sasuke gets it from."

"Get him!"

"Save Sakura-sama!"

"Yeah! Got him!"

The two paused misstep, with Shisui back-tracking a few feet to peer down a side street; and to his utter surprise, Uzumaki had been turned into a jungle gym.  He was surrounded by what must've been first or second year academy students; some latched around his ankles and others climbed him like a tree. And just a ways behind them, Sasuke and Haruno were red in the face and yelling out to the children.

"Aim a little higher," Sasuke advised, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand. "There you go."

"You got him!" Haruno cheered, punching the air.

The three were in disarray, their clothes marked by their battle from earlier in the day, but they seemed to be in good spirits, if this was any indication.  It was actually pretty hilarious seeing Naruto pretend to be overwhelmed by the group of seven and eight year olds.  So hilarious, in fact, that even Itachi had a hard time hiding his chuckles when he came to watch the scene unfold.  

"They're ridiculous," Shisui mused from around another piece of dango.

"Naruto-kun has always been a bit of a comedian.  He always got into trouble, even as a kid, so I'm not surprised he brought out that side of them."

Shisui hummed again, snorting as another child jumped onto the top of their kiddie pile. "You know him better than I do, I suppose."

He didn't miss the fondness that smoothed out the harsher lines on Itachi's still-too-young face, or the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Nor did he miss the way his lashes lowered or how Itachi wore this smile that seemed only to himself.  "I suppose I do."

Shisui didn't pry, content with watching as the former Hokage's son summoned a clone to help him fight back against the children.  He knew Itachi would continue to elaborate on his own, if he truly wanted to.   So instead, he continued to observe the strange dynamics of Team Seven.

They were just so fascinating to him.

Naruto alone was interesting enough for the whole team. He was the son of the infamous Yellow Flash and a surviving Uzumaki, the third disciple of the Toad Sage, and the host of a tailed beast.

And then there was Sakura—the daughter of civilian and average shinobi-born parents, and the legacy of the Slug Sage, who grew to become one of Konoha's most revered kunoichi.

Throw in Kakashi-senpai, the boy from ROOT, their newly named Hokage, Yamato-senpai and Rin, and you've got the world's most complicated, yet intricate team to ever exist.

But what intrigued him most?

Their closeness, their loyalty—their bond.  They weren't afraid of it.  Showing it.  Divulging in it.  Having it.  They were so undyingly loyal to one another, in fact, that their bond easily rivaled that of the village's infamous Ino-Shika-Cho formation!

And it made something… cold blossom in his chest.

A white flag flew.  Haruno braved the swarm of children, high-fiving some and fist bumping others.  She even held a little Inuzuka girl to her belly as she spoke to them in hushed voices.

And fuck, that icy violet in his chest suddenly felt so, so warm.

Shisui looked away, opting to finish off the rest of his snack; when Itachi suddenly began walking away.

"I used to worry," Itachi softly murmured, almost to himself.  And if not for how closely Shisui followed, he may not have heard it.

"About what?"

"Gaara!"

"Temari!  It's so great to see you!"

Itachi's right shoulder lifted into a shrug.  Then, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, revealing that same, self-evaluating smile.  "I used to worry that they weren't good enough for Sasuke."

Chapter Text

Kamen
Chapter || Nineteen

For many shinobi, the training fields were a home away from home.

They were safe spaces for shinobi to escape to—whether it was to let off some steam, learn a new technique, or to just get away from the rest of the world.  And it was where bonds were formed, where weaknesses and bentos were shared, and where Genin and Jonin alike could lay back to watch the stars at night.

Sakura couldn’t even pretend to put a number to how many times she and Team Seven had fallen asleep in theirs—whether it was after a drunken night out or a post-training nap.  Nor could she count how many dinners were spent there, over a campfire with the sounds of another team training in the background. 

So it was no surprise that the training grounds were full of shinobi, even now.

All around her, shinobi of all ranks were lazing about—some sitting on low hanging branches and others catching their breaths on the grass, while others were on their feet, engaged in friendly hand-to-hand spars.  And civilians were there too for once, sitting on patterned blankets with picnic baskets chock-full of snacks between them, watching the shinobi with awe in their eyes.

Sakura sat amongst them, with Sasuke and Naruto at her sides and a bottle of strawberry soda in hand, laughing as the blond regaled the story of how he and Sasuke had been stuck together via liquid chakra.  Neither man had ever revealed their half of the story, remaining tight lipped about it all these years; and now, she understood why.

They nearly drowned themselves after jumping off a cliff with the hopes that an outcropping rock would’ve been enough to break their conjoined hands apart.  That in itself was dumb enough to warrant a laugh, but their resulting liplock was just the icing on the cake.

“Seriously?” Sakura managed between laughs. “How many times has this happened to you guys now?”

Sasuke hid his face in his hands, allowing only the reddened tips of his ears to be seen.  “Too many.”

Naruto was less bashful about the incident, crossing his arms and glaring at his two teammates. “It’s not funny, Sakura-chan!  Teme nearly broke my teeth!”

At that, Sasuke tipped his head to the side to reveal his own, far more potent glare. “ Me ?  You’re the one who suggested it!”

“Yeah!  But you went along with it!” Naruto huffed. “You know some of my ideas don’t work out right!”

“At least you admit it.”  Sakura shook her head, leaning back onto her hand as Naruto and Sasuke continued to bicker.  She remembered that mission.  They were sent to retrieve a golden statue from bandits; Kakashi and Obito had traveled along the riverbank, while the three of them took to the footpath.

They were barely a team back then—more children than ninja.  Teamwork wasn’t even a thought in their heads at the time, just a word.  And because of that, she had been captured.

It was the first time she’d been taken hostage.  

Another growl rumbled within Sasuke’s chest, hinting to both Sakura and Naruto that he was about ready to pounce on the loudmouthed blond, but Sakura interrupted before he could, pointing to a pair of shinobi sparring across the field.  “Hey, isn’t that Konohamaru?"

Naruto leaned forward, squinting, before throwing an arm in the air and waving it. “Oi!  Konohamaru!”

The Chunin glanced their way at the sound of his name, blue-green eyes narrowing before snapping back to reality just as a fist flew over his shoulder.  He latched onto a handful of his opponent’s shirt, twisting on his heel, and threw him to the ground.  Then, with a boot on his fallen opponent’s chest, Konohamaru raised a hand in the air, two fingers free of a fist in greeting.  “Hey!”

“Nice takedown,” Sakura flexed her bicep.  Beside her, Sasuke acknowledged him with a two-fingered salute.

“Yeah, nice one, Konohamaru!”

Konohamaru beamed, dipping his head slightly whilst helping his comrade to his feet. “Thanks guys!" Then, he pointed at Naruto. “You’re next!”

Naruto leant back onto his palms.  “Can’t!  I’ve gotta save my energy for a real challenge!"

Konohamaru snorted. “Yeah, right!  If you’re too scared to lose in front of everyone, you could’ve just said so!”

The blond’s nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed; he mockingly repeated the teen’s taunt. “ If you’re too scared to lose —” He pointed back at Konohamaru who tugged on his cheek below his eye. “I’ll remember that when we train this weekend, you little shit!”

Konohamaru barked a laugh, half-heartedly waving a hand in response, before bumping a fist against his opponent to start the next round.  Team Seven watched as Konohamaru and a Nara clansmen traded blows, settling into an easy silence. And as Konohamaru fought, Sakura couldn't help but think: I feel so old .

Just yesterday, Konohamaru was an annoying little brat who, with his own team, would follow Team Seven around. He idolized Naruto, imitating his walk and his attitude, joining the blonde in his prankish antics around the village and announcing his goal of becoming Hokage to anyone with a pair of ears.  Hell—he, Moegi and Udon used to hide in the trees and watch as Team Seven trained, and all three used to beg them to train together.  And now, here he was: a respected Chunin with dreams of teaching other young minds about the Will of Fire , and a half dozen B-ranks under his belt.

Is this how Kakashi-sensei feels when he looks at us?  And Tsunade-sama?

"Man.  Time sure flies, doesn't it?"

At Naruto's soft muttering, Sakura closed her eyes and laid her head against his shoulder. "I was just thinking that."

"Hn." Sasuke concealed the fondness in his own little smile by climbing to his feet, rolling his shoulders and neck. Then, offering a hand to Sakura, said, "We should probably start warming back up."

Sakura took the offered hand with a sigh. "Yeah, you’re right.”  She raised her arms up over her head, moaning in satisfaction as the muscles in her back pulled taunt.  She kicked Naruto’s boot. “Hurry up, Naruto.”

But to her surprise, Naruto didn’t share their sentiment.  He groaned, flopping flat onto his back with his hands folded behind his head and his lips pursed into a pout.  He crossed his ankles over each other.  "I don’t wanna get up right now. I'm too comfy."

“Seriously? Three years on the road together, calling me a lazy bum, and now you’re too lazy to train?”

At the new voice, Sakura and Sasuke whipped around while Naruto shot back up into a sitting position. The blond’s eyes widened, taking on that infamous brilliant sapphire shine. “Ero Sennin!”

The Toad Sage stood before them, his large arms folded over his chest and his head tipped slightly back.  He looked almost exactly the same as they last saw him—trading that olive ensemble and red haori for a red, short-sleeved yukata but still donning those old-school geta—just with longer hair and a few more wrinkles around the eyes.  His lips thinned at the nickname and his expression lost its enthusiasm, but the fondness in his eyes didn’t waver.  

“Disrespectful as always, I see,” Jiraiya groused.  He squared his shoulders, drawing waves with his hands in a strange Hyuuga-esque imitation, and stomped his left foot into the ground, posing dramatically. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Gaki!  I’m not any old pervert!  I’m The Man Unmatched Across Land and Sea!  The White-Haired Frog Tamer!  Jiraiya: the Gallant!”

Sakura didn't bother hiding her eye roll at the ridiculously dramatic introduction and swallowed her snort while Sasuke obscured his exasperation with one hand.  But Naruto was on his feet in moments, closing the gap between him and Jiraiya in a series of swift steps, and engulfing the larger man in an airtight hug. “Shut up you old perv! Say hello like a normal person!"

“Hey, that’s no way to talk to your master! I'm a legend, you know!”

“Alright!  The moment’s over!  I’m out of here!” Naruto pulled away, just to laugh when Jiraiya stubbornly yanked him back against his chest.

It was heartwarming, seeing her teammate so enraptured.  

He looked so…complete at this moment.  Like he had found a part of himself he didn’t realize he was missing.

And Sakura understood that feeling completely .

Jiraiya had been his master, after all.  He had been there when Iruka, Kakashi or his father couldn’t.  He was the one who pulled Naruto out of his darkest, most difficult days and illuminated them with his kind smile.  He was the one who pushed Naruto to find his way back on the right path, who understood all that self-doubt and inner turmoil that secretly raged inside him, and turned him into the man he was, today.

Because he could’ve been someone entirely different.  He could’ve rolled with the darkness—turned into someone selfish or cruel.  Someone who isolated himself, hated himself.

Kami, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would’ve turned out without them.

“Master Jiraiya, it’s good to see you again,” She greeted, politely bowing with her hands linked against her lap.

The Toad Sage glanced at her from over Naruto’s shoulder, then a grin that bordered lecherous spread across his features. He pushed Naruto aside, making the blond stumble into Sasuke with a comical, "Oi!" then came to stand in front of the rosette.

 “Well, if it isn’t Little Tsunade!  You’re all grown up!  And you’re even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”

A muscle twitched at her temple as Jirayia's hand extended for one of her own, but Sakura coaxed the fiery annoyance away with the brushing of her bangs, taking it nonetheless.  She smiled a tad too sweetly.  “And you look even older than when I last saw you.”

Jiraiya placed his free hand over his heart. “Your words wound me, Sakura-chan.  You really do take after Tsunade—in more ways than one.”  His body tensed, his face scrunching with agony as Sakura warningly tightened her hand around the one in her possession. He struggled to rip his hand away, nursing it against his chest while turning to Sasuke, who had his gaze nonchalantly settled on a bird in a nearby tree.  With a softened countenance, Jiraita set his throbbing, reddened hand upon the Uchiha’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Sasuke.  I heard you've been promoted in the Force."

The Uchiha straightened at the mentioning, pushing his chest and chin out proudly. "I'm a Sergeant now."

Jiraiya nodded and chummily shook the ravenette. "Congratulations! You deserve it.  Next time I visit the Leaf, I expect to see Lieutenant stripes on you."

Sasuke bowed his head, but even from where she was, Sakura could see the well-hidden veil of disappointment that draped upon him.  She made a mental note to talk to him about it later.  “Thank you.  I will.”

Clapping Sasuke’s shoulder in sympathy, Jiraiya pulled away to wrap an arm around Naruto’s neck, forcing the barely-taller man to dip down to match his height.  "So," He began, tilting his head and bearing the feral slash of a smirk. “What’s going on? What's gotten you so lazy all of a sudden?”

Naruto dismissed the question with the wave of his hand, pulling the Sage down lower than him now. “Oi, forget that!  What are you doing here, Ero Sennin?  I thought you were busy in uh—Shi…bon?  Shion?  Shibari?”

Sakura snorted while Jirayia sighed and freed himself from Nature's hold. “Not even close, Kid.  I was in Fujigata.  And what do you mean, what am I doing here ?  It’s the coronation of a new Hokage!  Of course I’d be here!  It’s my duty as a Konoha shinobi to be here.”

“If not for Lady Tsunade tying you to a pole at her coronation, you would’ve left the moment you got her here,” Sakura mumbled, coaxing a semblance of a snicker out of Sasuke.

But the other two men didn’t pay her any mind, with Naruto immediately asking, “What were you doing in Fujigata? Did you save a village from a ferocious beast?  Or from an angry spirit?  Oh! Did you track down a serial killer?  Was a woman who poisoned all the men in the village because she was scorned by her lover?"

Typical Naruto.

Another elongated sigh left Jiraiya’s lips at his student's overzealous million-mile-per-hour questioning, and he pulled away from Naruto so he could lean against the nearest tree—indicative of a story to tell. And like a child, Naruto rushed to sit cross-legged at his feet, ready to dangle off his mentor’s every word—just as he did when they were Genin.  Deciding against teasing him, Sakura took a seat beside him while Sasuke stood with his arms crossed.

“Alright, alright. I've got a story for ya. Now, I can’t go too deep into details, but this is what I can tell you.  I was in Fujigata looking for a scientist who had teamed up with a local gang to manufacture a drug that previously caused an epidemic in nearby towns,” He began. “I chased the lead to a smaller town a few kilometers south called Uradaka.

“Uradaka?” Sakura skimmed through the names of all the places she'd visited through the years. “I've never heard of it.”

Jiraiya leveled her with a hard stare. “You wouldn’t have. It's not the kind of place any self-respecting shinobi would go to. It’s…dirty.  Seedy.  The kind of place where rogue nin thrived .  Almost immediately, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong there.”

A quick glance at Naruto found him leaning forward, towards Jiraiya.  His eyes were wide and locked on the white-haired man, his mien focused, yet full of childlike awe.  And once again, Sakura couldn’t beat down that tender warmth sizzling at the center of her chest.

“Everywhere I went, that feeling followed me.  I was being watched.  Someone was onto me.  Villagers looked at me like I was shit on the bottom of their shoes.  They pulled their kids away and shut their windows as I passed. No one would talk to me."  Jirayia closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and middle fingers. “But I was tired.  I had been traveling for months, chasing dead end after dead end, avoiding nukenin of all walks of life with chips on their shoulders.  I was tired of sleeping in the dirt, so I decided to stop at the town’s inn.  It was a shabby, little thing—one where the innkeep eyed me like I was some kind of criminal for even entertaining it as a place to stay.”

“Woah…”

Sakura bit at her growing smile.  As ridiculous as he was, Lord Jiraiya had always been a great storyteller.  He knew just how to pull people in, knew exactly when to shift the tone of his voice to accentuate a point in his stories.  And one of his greatest talents was his almost chimeral description of places just like this.

“He was old and tonsured, doddery on his legs.  And he had one eye—the other covered by timeworn bandages that wrapped around his head, but it felt like that one eye saw everything .  Everything about him screamed a person of interest.  So I thought he would be the perfect person to interview.  But I was wrong.”

“He was the scientist!” Naruto interrupted, punching the side of his fist into his palm, confident, as if he had solved the entire mystery. “The one you were looking for, right?!”

Jiraiya showed his palms to them, gesturing for him to settle down by lowering them towards the ground.  “I wasn’t sure then.  Despite his decrepitness, the old man moved around a lot.  He always disappeared when I'd drop by the reception desk, sending his nephew to greet me when I poked around too much.  And everytime I followed him into town, he would enter this slummy, old building through the back entrance.  The windows were always covered by these thick, moth-bitten curtains, and there were always goons standing by that door.  I didn’t want to scare him or let him know I was onto him.  I'm just a traveling raconteur, afterall.  But then, a nukenin going by the name Haradashi was found dead.”

Naruto emitted a loud, audible gasp.  And even Sasuke’s expression shifted, morphing into genuine interest as he finally took a seat beside her.

“Murder?” The Uchiha asked.

Jiraiya’s gaze deepened. “Blatant murder. His mouth was stitched shut.”

“It was a message,” Sasuke deduced. “He was a liability to someone.”

“He wasn’t the only liability.  The next morning, another lowlife was found dead—this time, with his eyes stitched shut.  By nightfall, three more bodies were found.  And all of ‘em were clearly meant to be found.  Not only that, but they just so happened to be people of interest in my investigation.”

“So what happened then?” Sakura inquired.

Jiraiya glanced at her, then at Sasuke, then Naruto.  “This was all beyond the scope of my mission.  Just being there was a new danger.  I had to lay low and act quick.  I booked the room for three more nights and spent those days observing what I could from my window.  Thankfully, the walls there were thin, so I could hear everything, and anyone who entered the building. I even managed to sneak a peek at the innkeeper’s records. And for such a small inn, it had a lot of guests.  Shinobi, a rogue samurai, a few suspicious peddlers, and five now-dead men who just happened to be at the forefront of my investigation.”

“The inn,” Naruto breathed. “It’s the common denominator.”

“It was.  And the old innkeeper?  He didn’t have much to say about his coincidentally dead tenants. If anything, he seemed pretty damned amused by their deaths.”

“Because he killed them!”

“I had little to no evidence that this was my guy beyond my suspicions, and if I stayed too long, he would’ve caught onto me.  So I planned to check out and make camp just outside the town's perimeter, watch from afar. But then, just as I was packing my stuff, I heard him talking to someone right outside my door."

Naruto rocked forward, fully invested.  “What were they saying?”

Dark eyes swept over the three of them, heavy with mystery and exhaustion, and years of trauma.  "Take care of him."  

Naruto's body went rigid. "I knew it!"

"They were plotting an ambush.  My cover was blown.  I had to go but I wasn’t sure who was on the other side of the door or how many there were, and there were too many civilians outside to risk a major battle.  So I had no choice but to wait for them to make the first move.  And then, as I waited with a kunai in my hand, there was a knock at the door.  I asked who it was, and the old innkeeper responded, saying I had some guests.”

All but vibrating in anticipation, Naruto curled his fingers into the grass. “And then!?”

“...I opened the door, and almost immediately fell to my knees because…”  Jiraiya swallowed, his breath stuttering, and closed his eyes as he seemingly recalled that day. “There were three beautiful women! With skirts that left nothing to the imagination, and breasts that couldn't be contained by any stretch of fabric!"

Had she been standing, Sakura would've fallen over. 

Sasuke merely stared ahead at a tree, his face devoid of any depth beyond self-disappointment—as if saying to himself, "Of course. Why did I think this story would've ended in a different way?" And Naruto just stared at Jiraiya, who rambled on about the fangirling women, with his brows tented, his head canted to the side, and his nose and lip twisted in discombobulated disdain. Then…

"WHAT THE HELL PERVY SAGE?" Naruto ripped some grass from the ground and threw it at Jiraiya, who continued to wear that same lickerish leer. "That's not a story!"

"Of course it is!" Jiraiya defended. "You listened to it, didn't ya?  So it's a story! But if you want the rest of the juicy details, you'll just have to read about it in my next book.  It’s a thrilling romantic mystery that will have you on edge—in more ways than one!"

"You're impossible!" Naruto griped, jumping to his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began stomping off like a petulant child. "C'mon guys. Let’s get outta here. Unlike some people, we've got things to do!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sasuke stood up. "Well that was a waste of time."

Rising with the help of Sasuke's free hand, Sakura shrugged. "At least it got Naruto up."

"Hey, you three should feel honored that I gave you a sneak peek into my next novel!" Jiraiya huffed, watching as a snickering Sakura and brooding Sasuke waved goodbye over their shoulders. "Lots of people would kill for that much, y'all know?!  It’s gonna be my next biggest hit!"

Kamen

The stadium shook beneath Sakura’s feet as she stalked down the walkway.  Cheers bounced off the walls of the tunnel, distorted by the abrupt gust of wind that lashed out at her cheeks.  She shivered at the sensation, closing her eyes as residual chakra pressed carefree kisses along her skin.  Beside her, Naruto physically shook out his excitement with a relieved sigh.

“Man,” He exhaled. “Now that’s a feeling I’ll never get tired of!”

Sasuke smirked to himself, his fingers curling over and over into his palm with anticipation.  “Me either.”

They walked out of the tunnel and into the sunlight where the roar of the surrounding crowd doubled, and stood at the edge of the walkway overlooking the battleground below.  A quick perusal of the stadium showed it was nearly overflowing in capacity, the seats entirely occupied to the point that children sat with their legs dangling off the railings or on the shoulders of their fathers, while shinobi were forced to stand anywhere they could comfortably fit—even if it meant hanging upside down from the overhang.  In the box seats above the bleachers, their retiring Hokage sat, chatting away with the Kazekage and his siblings, and someone who appeared to be the daimyo, when another familiar face entered the box.

She was about to point out the surprising guest when another bluster of wind engulfed the arena. It slammed into her, making her fight a step back with a thin dust of chakra along the soles of her feet while invisible fingers demandingly grasped at Sakura’s jaw, forcing her to redirect her attention to the battle taking place below.

Kakashi ducked back, narrowly evading the heel of Gai’s wildly precise roundhouse.  He blocked the next kick Gai followed up with and batted away his lower jab; then returned the attack with a pair of high kicks of his own.  Gai easily evaded them, pushing through with a punch that Kakashi tilted away from, a second slug that Kakashi bat aside, then a mid-ranged kick that Kakashi mirrored and hooked his own leg around, forcing Gai to the ground just as a Fuma shuriken sliced the air above them. The shuriken spiraled past them, curving right, to where Obito, Genma and Asuma were trading blows.

Through the rising dust, Sakura caught a glimpse of flickering scarlet as the Uchiha's Sharingan tracked the field.  He threw an arm up to block Genma’s jab while simultaneously throwing an elbow back towards Asuma’s chest, then while ducking Genma’s following punch, hooked his arm under the senbon-wielder's knee in an attempt at throwing him down.  But Genma (clumsily) caught himself and countered with a high roundhouse that coincided with Asuma’s quick right hook.  Obito managed to dodge both somehow and landed a heel kick strong enough to Genma’s chest to send him reeling back.  Then he ducked beneath another swipe of Asuma’s knuckle blades, popping back up to deck the bearded man’s jaw, slammed the flat of his boot into his knee, then finally incapacitated him with a knee to the face—all whilst evading the oversized shuriken heading his way.

And Gods did that make Sakura warm.

“Come on Iruka! Gotta do better than that!” She heard Obito tease. He reached out, plucking it from the sky, and with an artful twirl, pitched the weapon back across the battlefield. “You're spending too much time in the classroom.  You’re getting a little rusty.”

The academy teacher huffed at the jibe, but managed to catch the returned weapon with ease. The moment his fingers wrapped around the shuriken, he vanished, reappearing behind Obito with the same shuriken already pitched halfway between them.  “So are you!”

Obito leapt over the spiraling steel, ready to snipe off another jab when the weapon burst into a flurry of leaves, revealing a sword-wielding Raido in its place.

Beside Sakura, Naruto all but leapt over the railing, pointing at the combatants below and shouting, “That’s my move! Let's GO Iruka-sensei!”

A kunai sliced through the air, striking Raido’s katana just hard enough to knock it from its path and up into the stands where a cloaked shinobi appeared to catch it before disappearing again. Obito, meanwhile, put space between them with a back handspring, expertly twisting midair to avoid both Iruka’s trailing high slash and Raido’s matching low one; he linked his arm with Iruka’s, yanking him over and under him, then threw him down onto Raido.

He jumped back, ready to follow up with his own attack, only to find his feet rooted in place.  The ground glittered as it caught the sunlight, revealing a clear sheen of slime that pooled around the Uchiha's feet.  His Sharingan scanned the field, barely locating the near-hidden Izumo when Sakura felt the ground rumble.  The syrup entrapping her mentor rippled, visible only at the right angle, then burst as Izumo and Kotetsu emerged from beneath.  They attacked swiftly and in tandem, swiping at the Hokage-to-be’s back and chest with their conjoined duel-bladed kusari-kunai and slashing his arms as they raised to defend himself—tactfully slinging their weapon so the chain wound around Obito’s wrists so they could separate his hands and bind him further in place.

Each attack stirred the anxiety within her, folding into the pride and the excitement that compounded within her chest.

Sakura watched anxiously as the two Chunin strained against Obito, trying (and succeeding) to separate his arms from one another, as a now-conscious Asuma sprinted towards him.  Asuma easily skated over the syrup with a fist raised to strike, but then Obito simpered.  His head tipped back slightly and his chest expanded; then a great, golden flame burst from his lips.

“Woah!” A spectator gawked. “He didn’t even use hand signs!”

Sasuke scoffed at the comment, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “An Uchiha who can’t perform Gokakyu without their hands is an incompetent Uchiha.  Or a child.”

Asuma spun on his heel to avoid the fireball, ducking as he faced forward again to avoid the flame’s tail, then uppercutted the wide-eyed Uchiha.  He followed up with a left-handed punch, then a right, but when his knuckles landed, Obito was gone—replaced instead by a stunned and bloody Gai.

At the opposite end of the arena, Kakashi and Obito stood.  Obito held tall, with his head tilted back to reflect the sun with his grin and a fist raised triumphantly into the air.  Kakashi, on the other hand, knelt on the ground, using his shoulder to wipe the sweat dripping into his eye.  Watching their opponents regroup, Obito rolled his shoulders, and even though he faced away from her, Sakura just knew the Uchiha’s Sharingan was stained with a friendly splash of bloodlust.

“Here we go,” Naruto mused, rubbing his hands together when Kakashi revealed his matching Sharingan. “Now it’s gonna get interesting!”

Kakashi moved so fast, flash-stepping across the field while Obito’s body faded away with the wind.  He dove over Iruka’s Fuma shuriken, twisting mid-air to pitch a handful of red-wrapped kunai.  Asuma jumped to the front to knock aside the incoming projectiles, but after the clang of the second kunai, he was ripped away by the back of the vest just as Obito appeared just inches before him.  The Uchiha winked as he disappeared, rematerializing behind him with the third kunai in hand.  There was a hiss just before the seals around the handle detonated, enveloping the shinobi in a blinding, gray smoke.

Kotetsu and Izumo broke from the cloud first, followed by Gai, Raido then Asuma.  Before Sakura could speculate on what happened to Genma, Kakashi appeared from the smokescreen with a kunai in hand, dead set on chasing the two gate-keepers.  Then a black, kinked chain shot out of literally nowhere , and curled around the hilt of Raido’s sword.

“You’re coming with me,” Obito’s voice warned, right before Raido was yanked into the chain’s portal.  He was gone for a mere second, rematerializing a few feet away by the time Sakura blinked, as an unconscious heap on the ground.  Obito showed himself too, stepping out of another portal sporting a few thin blood trails on his left cheek and a surprisingly deep gash on his chest.  

A heated chill swam up and down her spine before encircling her lungs, evoking a pleasant shiver from the rosette.

Okay, Sakura thought whilst balling her fists. That was fucking badass.

Before Obito could get so much as a jeer out, Asuma was rushing him with chakra radiating from his blades, swiping at the Uchiha in quick but concise intervals that backed Obito towards the arena wall. He sliced high across, using the momentum of his attack to spin on his heel and deliver a back-handed slice to the abdomen, then swung with his right hand again.  Obito dodged and wove through every attack, waiting for the right moment; and when he found it, he casted the chain of his kusari-fundo.  It looped around Asuma’s arm, its sharp segments digging into the fabric of the other man’s sleeve, making his arm bow downwards.  Obito took advantage of this, pulling the chain towards him until Asuma was forced to bow all the way down; then he kicked his friend’s head into the wall, hooked his knee around the back of his neck on his skull’s returning bounce, and slammed him into the ground.

Everything had happened so quickly—less than five minutes, she would estimate—and nearly everyone was already incapacitated.  Kotetsu and Izumo were struggling against Kakashi, who unleashed jutsu after jutsu on them, while Gai made a beeline for Obito. And by now, the smoke had mostly cleared, leaving Genma behind.  Or rather, Genma’s head, which stuck out from the cracked earth, gazing at conjurings only he could see.  

Ah, Kakashi-sensei’s favorite technique: the Shinju Zanshu.  Snorting, Sakura leaned further against the rail.  She couldn’t wait to tease him about that later.

All in all, it was a slaughter.  Or it would’ve been, had this been a serious fight and not a friendly (albeit rough) spar between comrades.  

Thankfully, mercy came in the form of Tsunade’s voice bellowing out, “STOP!”

The cheers that concluded the bout were deafening. Children screamed louder than ever; shinobi punched the air while ryo and drinks changed hands. Beside her, Naruto leaned over the railing, whooping animatedly despite the kid that somehow ended up on his shoulders while Sasuke clapped with open pride for his fellow clansman.

Kakashi and Obito helped their friends to their feet, clapping their shoulders and giving playful shoves.  They saved Genma for last though, dispelling the genjutsu that tethered him down so they could all share a laugh at his expense before helping him out of the ground.  And even though they were a ways away, Sakura caught the softest hint of a, “Fuck you, Kakashi!”

Finally, Obito addressed the crowd.  He threw his arms in the air, relishing in the well earned laudation from his village.  “Is that all you guys got?!" He challenged with a too-smug grin.  His stance laxed, his arms now splaying out into a questioning shrug.  “C’mon!  Who wants one last spar with their new Hokage?”

Sakura didn’t bother even attempting to fight the smile that spread across her face. “He’s ridiculous.”  She straightened from her lean against the railing, her expression morphing into something a little more impish; she curved her back and raised her arms above her head, humming contentedly as her spine popped.  “Well?  Shall we?”

While Sasuke gracefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, Naruto gingerly set the girl on his shoulders back on the ground, then bumped knuckles with him and Sakura.  “Let’s do this!”

She had just set one boot up on the railing when a playful breeze whisked her hair into her face, accompanied by warm fingers finding their way beneath the hem of her top, where they burned against her skin.

“Gotta be quicker than that!”

“Damn it!”  Sasuke, who rubbed at the red mark forming on his forehead, growled, and it was met by a pair of deep chuckles and the vivid scent of fresh dango and worn leather. 

By the time Sakura managed to fold her mussed hair behind her ear, a harsh wind beat against her cheeks, the audience choked on a surprised breath, and Obito and Kakashi were face-to-face with their next opponents: Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Shisui.

Kamen

There was no fanfare, nor announcement to start.  One moment, Kakashi and Obito were standing amongst their defeated comrades, and the next, Obito had been pushed several meters back, his heels carving into the ground as he held Shisui back sword-to-sword.  Kakashi, meanwhile, had disappeared behind a rock wall that sizzled and smoked, but did not crumble beneath the barrage of booby-trapped kunai Itachi had launched. Then he darted away from his shield, flipping and skidding to change directions as Itachi materialized beside him.  The younger Uchiha stuck to Kakashi like a mischievous shadow, quickly pulling him away from the swords clashing behind them.  They traded blows relatively evenly, countering each other—looking like mismatched reflections in a mirror.

“So fast!” Someone muttered.

“Amazing.” Breathed another.

Then there was Naruto. 

“I can’t see shit!” He complained, using a hand to block out the glare of the sun. “They’re moving so fast!  It’s giving me a headache!”

Sasuke didn't miss a beat. “Sucks to suck.” His own Sharingan blazed as they tracked the field, moving so quickly that it made Sakura’s head spin. 

A kunai caught the light, the stark glimmer dancing between Kakashi’s fingers as he expertly twirled it into place, slicing the air with each strike.  He twisted on his heel, his kunai sideways and arm fully extended, but dodged as Itachi dipped back and sidestepped.  The Uchiha threw an arm up at the next swipe, blocking it at the forearm, then balled his free hand and revved his arm back.  Shuriken threaded through wire ripped up and out of the ground and spiraled towards the pair, forcing Kakashi to leap high into the air to evade them, and embedded into Itachi, who erupted into a flock of ravens.

“Oh wow,” A nearby spectator breathed as Itachi reappeared in the sky above Kakashi. He floated like some heavenly being, inky locks lifting into a halo and arms fluidly ghosting around to maneuver the shuriken threaded between his knuckles. He severed his own lines, bounced kunai off one another and summoned new blades from the shadows of others. “I knew shinobi were capable of some great feats, but I had no idea they could do things like that !”

Long, nimble fingers formed a singular seal.  Itachi’s chest expanded, and with one drawn out breath, red flames bloomed from his lips. Shards of flaming metal speared into Kakashi’s evading shadow, chasing him up the walls of the arena where an Anbu scrambled to rectify a barrier.  

Another spectator beside Sakura excitedly kicked her feet and cradled her hands to her chest. “It’s not often we get to see an Uchiha in action, let alone three of them!”

“I know, right?  They rarely ever train outside their compound.  How did we get so lucky?” Her friend swooned as Kakashi finally countered, forming the seals for an earth-based jutsu that fully enveloped his body in stone.  Flaming shuriken exploded against his bracing arms, chiseling away at his armor; but when the flames died down, his stone figure broke apart, revealing an empty shell.  Then, as the arena oohed and ahhed over the Jonin’s escape, an ear-piercing cacophony of shrieks ripped through their ears and lightning illuminated their faces; and a lion-dog made of white lightning came to life, charging at Itachi with massive fangs bared. “And Kakashi-sensei isn't too hard to look at either.”

“Oh, I know! He's got a different kind of mysteriousness than the Uchiha. Like the Inuzuka—you know, before they start talking.”

“Hey, aren't the Hatake relatives of the Inuzuka?”

“I don't know but Kami, they’re all so hot.  You know—I've never seen an ugly clan.  At least not one from Konoha.”

Swallowing a snicker, Sakura tossed a look at Sasuke, who had his face fixed into an embarrassed (or was that envious?) scowl and his arms folded across his chest.  She nudged him. “Hear that?”

Sasuke’s scoff was loud and harsh. “No.”

“Incest.” A playful barb died on the tip of her tongue at the abrupt, deadpan comment by a third civilian, prompting Sakura to instead smother a cackle with her hands while Sasuke's scowl broke into a horrified gawk. “Clans like the Uchiha and Hyuuga have to marry within themselves, otherwise they water down the bloodline.  Why else would they all look like the same person in a different font?”

Naruto, having not heard the jab but sensing the moment, hung over Sasuke, shaking him while annoyingly asking about what he’d missed.  And while the woman wasn't quite wrong in her assumption, she also wasn't quite right. 

Before Sakura could ponder on the intricacies of Clan Politics, an Anbu materialized in front of her, throwing a barrier up just as the sword Obito had been using embedded itself into the spot directly in front of Naruto, followed moments later by the appearance of a smirking Obito.  The soles of his boots and his stabilizing palm radiated with pale blue chakra as they fused with the near-invisible barrier, which rippled as he executed a gravity-defying back-handspring to avoid the charging Shisui.  He slung his arm to the side, a bloodied thumb summoning his kusari-kunai, which lashed at Shisui's cheek, then dashed forward and birled to crack the chain and free his uchigatana. But Shisui evaded, flash-stepping so quickly, the barrier didn't even register his footsteps. His tanto flashed like his teasing grin just before disappearing into Obito's side and phasing through him.

And for the briefest of moments, when momentum pushed Shisui past Obito, Sakura swore his Sharingan had locked on her.

It was subtle—the shift in his gaze, the minute linger—and by the time the thought even registered in her mind, Shisui had flickered to the opposite end of the arena with Obito at his heels, but she was fairly certain her eyes weren’t deceiving her.  

She watched as Shisui skirted the fine line between bloodshed and safety, as he executed complicated strands of flips and twists to avoid the sharp edge of Obito's blade. And it was interesting, seeing just how much of Sasuke she saw in his movements—or rather, how much of Shisui was in Sasuke.

Like his cousins, Shisui stood with his shoulders squared and his head canted just so.  But he leaned to one side like Sasuke, and was just as ambidextrous, juggling his tanto between both hands and readjusting his grip on the fly to get the best angle through an opening in Obito’s attacks.  He was also more acrobatic and adaptable than the other two elder Uchiha, Sakura noticed, watching as Shisui slipped out of Obito’s reach with one flip more than necessary.  Then with one well-timed back handspring, he redirected Obito’s kusari-kunai upwards; he caught it by the blade’s handle, curling the deceptively thin chain around his fist as he whirled in place, and wrenching his cousin to him.  He poised his tanto to strike but the blade phased through Obito again, so he flash-stepped backwards to cut him off.

Obito expected this, apparently, because just as the edge of Shisui’s tanto sliced into his side, he disappeared, and in his place, lightning surged towards him.

With wide eyes, Sakura released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  Kakashi appeared in Obito’s place with Raikiri crackling from the tip of his fingers; it came so close to Shisui that from where she sat, it looked like a direct hit to his face, but somehow Shisui escaped with little more than singed hair and a splatter of blood against his cheek.

“Holy shit, I thought Shisui was a goner!” Naruto admitted.  His hands were in his hair, clutching it in nervous bundles. 

Sasuke’s pout gave away his well-veiled concern, even when he flippantly looked away. “Shisui is too fast to fall for a trick like that.  Nothing short of Nidaime’s Hiraishin can keep up with him.”

Despite the space he put between them, Shisui ended up on the defense, ducking each swipe of Kakashi's kunai with expert ease while also evading the pounce of his komainu. He wove through every single one of Kakashi's attacks, countering with sharp elbows and low kicks of his own—all while somehow weaving the seals to summon a massive dragon that tore across the battlefield. The dragon snarledas it swam across the stadium, flames dripping from the tendrils on its face and the jerk of its tail; it tackled Kakashi's lion-dog, encircling it with its long, sinuous body until their combined light was fully smothered.  A kunai tore through the resulting smoke, beelining towards Kakashi who leapt out of the way.  But upon passing him, Shisui materialized, pitching the kunai back and reappearing to catch it on the other side.  He did this over and over, each sling of the kunai cutting into the Jonin's body, until one powerful punch sent him flying back end-over-end.

But Shisui never hit the ground, instead exploding into a flury of squawking crows upon impact.  The flock soared up into the air as one, rolling once before diving right for Kakashi who hurried through the seals for a Katon, just barely managing to blow out a giant fireball that swallowed the attacking birds.

And then Shisui appeared, breaking out of the vibrant flames, roaring like a beast born out of fire, and absolutely bodied Kakashi. 

And it was breathtaking. 

Sakura nibbled on the pad of her thumb.  She had heard all the praises sung of Shisui’s speed from civilians and shinobi alike, so she knew he was fast.  But she also chalked a lot of it up to over exaggeration, particularly on Sasuke’s part.

But seeing it?  Seeing exactly how fast Uchiha Shisui actually was?  Combined with the tactical prowess he clearly possessed?

The tip of her tongue wet her lips.

The sharp clang of metal against metal demanded her full attention then, drawing her gaze towards the sun-sparked slivers that flashed across the field.  And seeing those vibrant sparks were jarring in the best way, each abrupt flash fanning the ashes smoldering behind her navel.

Kamen

“Fuck off, Naruto!”

“I’m just saying,” Naruto threw his hands in the air placatingly, but his expression betrayed his amicability. “I think your expectations are too close to the sun.”

Sasuke grit his teeth, revealing a glassy snarl. “That’s not how the saying goes!”

“Kawaii, Kowai,” Naruto’s hand flopped forward dismissively. “Whatever.  You know what I mean.”  The Uchiha seethed as he stalked off, growling again when Naruto caught up to his stride and draped an arm around his shoulders. “Look Teme, you might not catch up to Shisui but that’s okay!  If you ask nicely, I might teach you Hiraishin.”

"Shut up!" Sasuke shoved Naruto hard, making the blond stumble right into the alleyway they passed and into a trash bin. 

The blond stumbled over the bin with a loud crash and an indignant shriek, throwing a discarded glass bottle at his teammate. “Oi!  Fuck you, Sasuke!  Sakura-chan, remind Teme how to act in public!”

Sasuke, who caught the bottle and tossed it back, huffed. “Sakura, tell the village idiot to shut the fuck up before he loses all his teeth.”

Sakura blinked hard and shook her head, then offered Naruto a hand. “Huh?  Sorry.  Both of you, knock it off. We aren't twelve year olds anymore, ya know?"

A dark brow quirked.  “What’s wrong with you?”

Frowning, Sakura folded her hair behind her ear. “Nothing.  I’m just hot.  And tired.”  She rubbed at the muscles between her neck and shoulder with a sigh. “I need to take a shower.”

“Take one at my place,” Sasuke invited. “Save yourself the trip.”

Sakura nibbled on her lower lip as she contemplated the invitation.  It would save her the hassle of traversing the village, just to make her way back.  But going to the Uchiha Compound would mean—

“Oh look!  It’s your brother and Shisui!”  Naruto took hold of Sasuke and Sakura’s wrists, dragging them towards the small crowd that encircled the pair of Uchiha before either could protest.  He released them only upon pushing his way through the crowd, opting to clap an appraising hand on Shisui’s shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, that was a great fight, man!  I can’t believe you dogged Kaka-sensei like that!”

Shisui, who had been accepting the compliments of some unnamed shinobi, turned to address them with a boyish grin. “Now that’s a compliment, coming from you. Hey Sasuke!” He greeted Sasuke with a smirk and ruffled his dark, iridescent locks despite the latter’s protests, then waved at Sakura. “Sakura-san.”

Despite the warmth that began to creep up the back of her neck, Sakura smiled politely at both Shisui and Itachi, who batted the former’s hand away from his brother’s head. “Hi.”  She playfully jabbed a finger against Shisui’s shoulder. “Normally, I’d cuss you out for stepping in on our fight, but I’ll let it slide this time.  You guys kicked ass.”

The curly haired Uchiha chuckled and threw his hands up defensively. “Hey now, that was all Itachi’s idea.  He’s the mastermind here. Brotherly rivalry and all. I just followed his lead."  Perfect teeth edged with a devious canine flashed. "Trust me: I would’ve loved to watch you beat up my cousin, instead.”

There was something about the way he said that that made Sakura’s skin tingle.  Her chakra felt warmer just above her navel and dipped for a moment before returning to normal.  But she shoved the thought into a box deep in the recesses of her mind.

Shaking his head, Itachi returned Sakura’s little grin with a small one of his own. “Thank you, Sakura. Please elect to ignore Shisui. He’s been beaten around so much, he sometimes forgets his own ideas.” Then he bowed his head. "I apologize for cutting this short, but Shisui and I must return to the Compound.  We have some work to do before the evening comes."

Returning the curt bow, Sakura said, "Oh, of course!  We've gotta get cleaned up anyway.  Maybe we'll run into you guys later tonight?"

Tipping his head in departure, Shisui chuckled, and for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, it pulled a shiver from the base of Sakura's spine. "Maybe you will."