Fourteen Dates- fanfic

Chapter 39: Comfort

It took Kakashi a good three hours to catch up with Pakkun. This was a positive sign, however. The ninken was fast, and for him to have traveled so far meant that he must have picked up Sakura’s scent. The gap between Sakura and the small canine must have narrowed considerably, considering her relatively poor physical condition.

Kakashi came upon the dog in a small clearing. Pakkun’s nose was to the ground, sniffing a wet patch of pine needles and duff.

“She was sick,” the dog said shortly. “What did you do to her, Kakashi?”

“Nothing. It was a misunderstanding.” It had to be a misunderstanding.

“It takes a special talent to get someone to throw up at the thought of you.” Pakkun said this softly, forgetting for a moment the exceptional hearing possessed by his senpai. “I assume we’re in the midst of another crisis? It’s always the same, isn’t it?” The pug looked at his leader balefully, then began running due east, but slowly, to allow Kakashi to stay by his side.

”That’s your job, Pakkun. To assist when summoned. You’ve never complained before.”

”Right. And I’m not complaining now. I just never find out what happened in between.” He shook his head from side to side in a show of resignation. “I take it she recovered from the life-threatening illness?”

”Not completely. She’s still tired.”

“I noticed. She barely covered her trail. It wasn’t hard to pick it up, once the terrain changed.” He looked at Kakashi expectantly.

“She pulled through, and we fell in love.”

”We? You were already in love with her.”

“She realized it, too. Things were going fine until…”

”You screwed it up. I knew it! You are completely clueless when it comes to the opposite sex. Always have been—“

”Pakkun—“ Kakashi growled a soft warning.

“So what happened?”

“We had just eaten dinner—I’d planned a picnic. I was just about to propose to her when she remembered something. Her memories from the time of her illness were spotty, but they were coming back to her piecemeal. She accused me of lying to her about never having been in love before.”

”Why would she think that? You never were before, right? I think I’d know, otherwise. Although you’ve tried out enough bitches, that’s for sure. It was a new one every night for a while, wasn’t it? Even on missions. I don’t understand why you don’t have pups scattered all over Fire and the allied nations.”

It’s called birth control, little doggy.

Kakashi rolled his eyes at Pakkun’s continued naiveté regarding the human world, then shuddered involuntary as he imagined the countless bastard children that might have been if his world more closely resembled that of the small canine. Pakkun’s remarks were becoming increasingly irksome, cutting ever more deeply into his pride. Kakashi already knew that he’d screwed up in his life, multiple times. He didn’t need the dog pointing out every minute detail to him. “Save the commentary, Pakkun,” the copy ninja grumbled. “I’m not in the mood for it..”

“Grrr. Sorry. So why did she think that you’d lied?”

“ I had been trying to tell her my feelings the day she got sick, but I wasn’t completely straightforward—“

”Well, that’s what you get for telling tall tales all the time. When you want to tell the truth, you can’t—“

“Why am I telling you this?” Kakashi shook his head at his summons’ complete lack of respect.

“Because I’m more likely to locate Sakura than you are, and I’ll do more quickly, too.”

Kakashi sighed as Pakkun grinned, showing small, sharp teeth. He really had no choice but to continue with the story if he wanted the small dog’s cooperation. The pug could be as stubborn as any of his former students. Kakashi thought for a moment of Tsunade’s summons—a nice, sweet, docile slug. He doubted Katsuyu would dare to talk to the Hokage in the way that was becoming increasingly routine for Pakkun. Of course, Katsuyu came with a fair amount of slime, a less than desirable trait that in Kakashi’s mind outweighed the smart remarks Pakkun sometimes made. Life, for a shinobi, was full of tradeoffs, it seemed. Kakashi resumed his narrative as he and his canine companion changed course slightly.

“So. As I was saying, she misunderstood me. I explained that I’d been in love with her almost forever and she kind of freaked out. Not in any way that was usual for her—she didn’t tantrum, didn’t punch, didn’t scream. She became really quiet. Then she left and went back to our hotel room, and things got worse. She found my copy of the newest Icha, Icha—“

“Surely something like that wouldn’t bother her—she’s known about it since the day you first met.”

“The problem was that this volume had drawings of her in it. Naked, of course. The plot revolves around a couple who are clearly based on us.”

“Jiraiya—“

“Jiraiya has a warped sense of humor. He must have remembered a conversation we had years ago. I was drunk at the time.”

”You’d have to be to let something like that slip.”

“Yeah,” said the normally tight-lipped ninja. “Anyway, she accused me of being in love with the girl in the drawings, not her. She ran away sometime during the night.”

Pakkun was silent for the next ten minutes, as he focused intently on Sakura’s trail. Then he stopped suddenly and addressed Kakashi.

“What do you think made her so upset during your dinner?”

“I thought it was because I hadn’t told her as soon as I realized I loved her. I figured her pride was hurt. But I really don’t know—we never talked about it. By the time I got back to the hotel, she’d already seen the book. She made it clear she didn’t want to talk. She seemed… devastated.”

“You’ve known her for twelve years.”

Pakkun was silent after this brief remark, for long enough that Kakashi felt like the slow kid in class, the one who catches on a good thirty minutes after everyone else, if at all. It was definitely a new experience for him.

“Yes?” Kakashi asked after waiting patiently for what seemed like at least another five minutes. What was the small dog getting at?

“Has she ever acted this way before?”

“Sakura is completely emotional. I know that she meditates in an attempt to control her outbursts, but to me it didn’t look as though she was very successful. She always reacts strongly, whether happy or sad. And when she’s angry, the fur flies.”

”And do you think she’d be angry if her pride were hurt?”

“Hell, yes.” He’d seen the result of her wounded pride many times before.

“So, in what circumstances has she acted the way you saw?”

“Quiet and flat?” Kakashi thought for a minute. “When she heard the news about her parents, she was like that at first. It took a while for the dam to burst.”

“So what you told her at dinner affected her like a death.”

“Right.”

“So?”

“I don’t follow you.”

Really, was it just Kakashi, or were all human men this clueless, Pakkun wondered. How hard was it to read someone’s emotions? When someone was angry, you could tell by their stance, the raising of their hackles, the strong odor of… well, anger. Similar clues were clearly recognizable for fear, shame and every other emotion. They each had their own unique and highly recognizable fingerprint. But humans had to muck all of this up by also considering what was said, and not said. To Pakkun it seemed much more prudent to talk with feelings alone. They were less likely to lead one astray. This was even more true when it came to dealings with females. Pakkun took a deep breath and did his best to tutor his senpai in the basics of reading emotion.

“So is it possible that she interpreted your words differently than what you’d intended? That it wasn't her pride that was wounded? That somehow, you cut her much more deeply?”

“Huh.” Kakashi considered the small dog’s words. Somehow, they seemed to ring true.

“Let’s talk about what happened next, when you returned to the hotel. What did Sakura do when she saw the book?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

”Well, then, how do you know she saw it?”

“Because it was moved from my pack to the table near the bed.”

“So it was still in one piece?”

“Yes. Wait a minute.” Kakashi suddenly realized where he’d gone wrong. She would have torn it up and punched him senseless if she’d actually seen those drawings. The entire hotel would have heard in detail of his faux pas, and her resulting opinion of him. But this hadn't happened-- far from it. Again, her behavior had been abnormal.

“So what does that tell you?”

Kakashi sighed. “That I jumped to an unwarranted conclusion. Kuso. I’m just as bad as she is.” Sakura was clearly upset, but not about the book. Something else had bothered her enough to leave in the middle of the night. And that something was likely related to their words under the dogwood tree.

“We’re here, by the way. Her pack is in that tree. She’s in that shack over there, back room, if I’m not mistaken.” Pakkun looked critically at the man standing next to him. He really was a mess, and in a completely different way than he usually was. But he admired and respected the shinobi, despite his gruff, cynical words to the contrary.

“Thanks, friend.” Kakashi smiled at the dour dog, whocontinued to appraise him, again shaking his head slowly.

“Just invite me to the wedding, baka.” Mission complete, Pakkun disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

Kakashi reconnoitered the area, quickly learning from chakra signatures that there were three individuals in the area apart from him, and that one of them was definitely Sakura. He skirted the small building, staying close to the large trees which shaded it fully, but was unsuccessful in finding a window clean enough to peer through, or even a crack in the aged, silvered wood that sided the building. He jumped lightly onto the building’s thatched roof, and crouched over the area where he most strongly felt Sakura’s presence. It would take a bit of work, but once he untied the bundle of straw covering this area, he’d be able to pick away at its members until he reached the battens on which they lay. The room should be immediately below. Buildings of this caliber did not tend to have formal ceilings-- instead the roof was exposed directly to the room below. The trick would be removing just enough plant matter to see into the room, without exposing himself to the room’s occupants.

In just a few minutes, Kakashi had a clear view into the room below, and a perfect view of the woman he’d been pursuing. She took his breath away, momentarily, and for various reasons. Sakura was a vision in the scanty undergarments she wore. He recognized them from the brief view he’d seen of them when she lay in his lap under the dogwood. With a twinge of regret, Kakashi realized she’d purchased them for him. He hadn’t seen her in pink for years. It made her look even more feminine, and fragile, as well. These were two characteristics she did her best to steer clear of. It touched him that she had been willing to appear that way for his sake. She seemed to be sleeping, he noticed, once his eyes moved away from the perfection of her form, and she was in chains, her arms raised to flank her head. Why? He was sure he knew the answer. He’d been in this part of Fire only weeks before, and unfortunately hadn’t finished the job assigned him. He hadn’t thought they’d return so quickly, though he’d feared it once he realized the direction Sakura had taken. How had she fallen into their trap? More importantly, what would be the best way to rescue her? It would take time to cut through the shackles binding her wrists—he’d need to first size up and take out her captors as well as scout a wider perimeter for the presence of additional enemies.

He continued to gaze at the woman he’d fallen in love with as he considered his options. She didn’t seem uncomfortable, though her breathing was a bit shallow. But her chakra was erratic, he realized, now that he was close enough to inspect it in more detail. It was present, but moving strangely through her, as though she’d been drugged. He crouched over the opening, masking his chakra in case his intuition about her captors was wrong, and exhaled slowly as the door to Sakura’s bedroom opened. It was a woman, a person he’d never seen before, but he could tell by her bearing that she was in charge, not some female subordinate sent in to mind the captive. The woman sat gingerly on the edge of the narrow bed that held the sleeping Sakura and tapped her face gently, murmuring softly to her as she did so.

These didn’t seem to be the actions of a cold-blooded killer, or even those of a cool-blooded, reluctant kidnapper, but Kakashi found himself repeating one phrase over and over, as though it were his mantra.

Harm a single hair on her head and I will kill you, slowly.

…o…o…o…o…

It was a lovely state to experience-- half dreaming and half awake, only slightly aware of the world surrounding her, feeling only life’s pleasures and none of its worries. A pillow had never before felt this soft-- she was sure of it. Sakura felt as though she were floating in warm, quiet waters, with nothing but her own heartbeat for company. It was peaceful and serene, a dream she never wanted to wake from. Sakura lay in this limbo for hours or minutes—she couldn’t discern the difference, and didn’t want to. This was heaven, it had to be heaven. But what was this irksome bee that was disturbing her? Its buzzing grew in intensity until the wonderful half dream faded into nothingness. Sakura opened her eyes reluctantly to find another’s staring into her own.

“Ah, there you are. Finally. I wasn’t sure you’d wake up. You have some appetite for such a petite person. I thought I’d made a horrible mistake.”

”What?” The words of the woman standing over her seemed muffled, as though she were several rooms away. Sakura attempted to turn to her side, to slip back into the dream she’d lost, but found she couldn’t easily move. She then shook her head to clear the fog that still blanketed her faculties. She tried to sit up, but winced in pain as her arms were held fast behind her. She was chained, she realized belatedly, shackled somehow to the bed’s headboard.

“You shouldn’t move. You’ll only hurt yourself.” The woman moved closer, gently lifting Sakura’s head to prop another pillow beneath it.

What was her name?

“Rumiko.” That was it. “You poisoned me?” Sakura frowned, bewildered, as she saw the slightest shadow pass across the beauty’s face, as though the woman had been affronted. Wasn’t that what the woman had just implied—that she had put something into her food or drink? Why would such a question insult her? But then the amber-eyed woman smiled, as though trying to mitigate an uncomfortable social situation.

“No, not poisoned. I just gave you something to put you out for a while. But I miscalculated-- sorry about that. I was beginning to get worried, you know.” Sakura saw the same look of warmth in her eyes that she had seen before, the look she had misinterpreted to mean “this is a friend—this person won’t hurt you.” Did her captor actually feel something like compassion towards her?

If so, how could she use this feeling against the woman? Sakura did her best to focus, to bring forth the many years of training she’d endured in preparation for situations like these. This was a difficult task, however. Her mind felt as though it were wrapped in layers of cotton batting, as though it had been packed away carefully before a long trip. She struggled to unreel her mind from the layers of confusion and lethargy that protected it from impact with her environment. As in all of her studies, Sakura had memorized word for word the concepts and protocols critical to survival as a hostage or detainee. With an effort, she brought them forth now.

First, gather information. Get the hostile party to talk. She may say something she didn’t intend to reveal.

“Why am I here?”

“Why, indeed. You ran away from home, remember? From your husband, you said.”

“No. Why are you holding me here?” Sakura’s added the slightest note of frustration to her voice, as her training clicked into gear. She’d practiced these skills so often that she no longer needed to operate on a conscious level, although she was still aware of the purpose behind her actions. The feelings of frustration and anger were intentional. It wouldn’t pay to seem too calm and rational, she knew. And the feelings weren’t difficult to muster, at any rate. She was furious with herself for her stupidity and for the ease with which she’d been captured. How humiliating it was that the price of her capture had been a meal of miso soup and rice. She focused on Rumiko, to see her addressing her as calmly as if she were reciting a grocery list, and as kindly and patiently as if she were teaching a young child the basics of reading.

“Because I need a comfort woman and you fit the bill. And I didn’t think you’d say ‘yes,’ if I flat out asked. ”

”A comfort woman?”

“Someone to entertain my employees. You see, we’re rebuilding a facility, and out here in the middle of nowhere the boys get bored. I can’t have them walking off the job—the project is secret, and it would get messy if anyone were to leave—so we import entertainment for them. Dai was just about to go out in search of someone new when you arrived. You have great timing. I hate it when Dai leaves. He always feels the need to sample the wares, and I can’t have that.” She smiled brightly. “You really did me a big favor, you know.”

”So, I’m to entertain ‘your boys’?”

“Yes. About thirty of them. Not all at the same time, of course. Fifteen an evening is about all you’ll be able to manage.”

Sakura gulped as she realized exactly what the calm-voiced, auburn-haired woman was speaking of.

“You want me to prostitute myself?” For a moment, rational thought escaped her as she strained against the shackles encasing her wrists. She could tell the bindings were made of ordinary iron, but they didn’t give at all. Iron was just a mineral—a nearly effortless tap of her wrist against the shackle should be enough to crush it to dust. There was obviously something wrong with her chakra. Sakura felt it moving within her, as always—it certainly wasn’t any more drained than she expected, given her long hike—but somehow, she couldn’t access and direct it as needed.

Damn it.

Rumiko chuckled at Sakura’s efforts, as well as at her choice of terminology. “I wouldn’t call it that. Prostitutes get paid. Think of this as more of an unpaid internship. If things go well, I’ll take you back to Yukikagure with me. In fact, if circumstances had been different, I would have invited you directly, instead of pressing you into service. When you do come to Yukikagure you’ll be paid, of course-- handsomely. You could cultivate quite a clientele with your unusual coloring. But I won’t call you a prostitute then, either. My girls are nothing like a common streetwalker. They’re true professionals, and respected as such. They prefer the term, ‘companion’. It’s much more discreet, don’t you think?”

So, Rumiko was a madam. She seemed far too elegant for such an unseemly job.

“What makes you think I would want to go on to Yukikagure with you?” Sakura voiced her incredulity.

“What else do you have to look forward to? You’ve left your husband, and it seems pretty obvious that you’ve led a life of luxury until now. Pretty girls don’t usually realize how good they’ve got it until it’s gone. How will you support yourself in the manner to which you’ve grown accustomed? Men typically don’t want another’s sloppy seconds.”

Sakura nearly laughed and struggled to maintain a neutral façade. Inside, though, she giggled unrestrainedly. Luxury? When? Where? When she camped on rock-strewn soil or in leaky tents? When she plucked plump leeches from her flesh after delightfully refreshing tramps through a warm, fetid swamps? When she removed deeply embedded senbon, kunai and shuriken from the flesh of her companions? How could she possibly give others the impression that she was pampered? She needed to find out, she realized.

Second, ask questions that further any conversation, and if possible, refocus the conversation on your captor.

“You think that I’m…rich?”

“The rich never think of themselves that way, so I can see why you’d be surprised by that appellation. Maybe you’re not as wealthy as some, but I can tell by looking at you that you’ve led the life of a princess. You’re in great shape—“ At this, Rumiko glanced along Sakura’s body, which, the kunoichi realized for the first time, was clad only in her undergarments. “You’re one of those girls who spends half of each day at the gym and the other half dining and shopping with her girlfriends, aren’t you? I’ll bet you even have a woman come in to do the cleaning.”

This woman obviously doesn’t have a clue about who or what I am. Once again, I’ve been underestimated.

So? Sakura! Use this to your advantage.

There was that inner voice again, but it was welcome this time.Sakura struggled with herself not to correct the woman. It would be so very satisfying to do so. Instead, she offered more neutral words, in an effort to get the woman to continue. The more she talked, the more Sakura would learn. “Just what makes you conclude all this?”

“Because I lived that life myself. I can see a bit of myself in you. I grew up in complete luxury and threw it away. I didn’t want to be taken care of—I wanted to make my own way in the world. And I certainly didn’t want to be the property of some man, protected and coddled like a porcelain doll. First, I trained as a maiko, because I was told I had the looks for it, but I realized there were much better ways to make money entertaining men. Eventually, I started my own business. By then my brother was pretty well-established, and saw that I had the skills to be successful managing others, so he asked me to join him in running his companies. It turns out I’m pretty good at clean-up-- Eki usually calls me in when things are behind schedule or other problems surface. This particular situation is one of them. The factory should have been completed a month ago, but it was sabotaged. Our customers are chomping at the bit, as we can’t currently supply all of their requests.” Rumiko sighed. “I’d rather be back with my girls in Yukikagure , in a modern, clean city. I hate these woods.”

Rumiko paused for a moment, lost in thought, then refocused her attention on Sakura. “But back to you. Your bra and panties came from Noriko’s Secret, didn’t they? I recognize the style—my girls shop there. Not too many other people can afford Noriko’s prices, however. It looks like hubby was taking pretty good care of you. Are you regretting leaving him? Just what was the fight about, anyway? Did he forget to buy you the diamond earrings you asked for?” Rumiko smiled, but not cruelly. Her demeanor was that of the older sister with hard-earned advice to impart.

“That wasn’t it at all.” Sakura’s voice rose in pitch, as her eyes welled up with tears. “Where are my clothes, anyway? What did you do to me while I was out?”

“You were sweating, so I took them off. I needed to take a good look at you, anyway.”

Sakura blushed, then blanched. It was beyond humiliating to be treated like a piece of meat, and Rumiko, despite her sisterly air, and matter-of-fact voice was doing just that. And how often had she been treated like a commodity in the past month? It was infuriating. Sakura felt her temper beginning to flare, and did her best to subdue it by thinking of the mission she’d been thrown into. Her job right now was to get the information she needed to escape. She thought again of her training.

Third, find out what is likely to happen to you, and any associated time frame. The more data you gather, the better informed your plan will be.

“What happened to the last comfort woman?” Sakura was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she might as well ask.

“Oh. She ran away. But Dai caught up with her. There’s a reason I keep him around, you know.”

“Oh. And when will the boys be coming?”

”Not until nightfall, when their shift ends. I recommend getting a bit more sleep before then—you’ll need it. I’ll wake you in time to get ready.”

Rumiko stood and stretched as she prepared to leave, then chuckled again.

“So, tell me. What was it?”

”What was what?” Sakura had had enough, and her instinct told her that even the girl she was pretending to be would react similarly under these circumstances.

“Why did you leave?”

“Who exactly do you think you are? You drug me and chain me up, you’re planning on whoring me out in a couple of hours, and now you’re pretending to be my marriage counselor? It’s none of your damn business why I left.” This must be some method Rumiko had devised to break the spirit of new “comfort women.” Perhaps her intent was to torture Sakura into submission using only kindness and sisterly devotion. Frighteningly enough, her plan appeared to be working.

“He cheated on you.”

“No! He didn’t! He would never…” Sakura’s words were strangled by the sob she emitted.

Rumiko’s face softened. “You still love him.”

Sakura nodded, eyes closed, as she tried to collect herself. She loved him. It didn’t hurt to admit that.

“He likes boys, doesn’t he.” Rumiko smiled in satisfaction. That had to be it.

Sakura laughed softly. This woman just wasn’t going to give up. “No, he likes little girls.” Her statement was punctuated by rustling, sliding noise, originating from somewhere above them, followed by a very loud thump.

Rumiko jumped up and pulled open the door leading into the adjoining kitchen. “Dai?! Is there someone outside?” She turned back to Sakura, but not before the kunoichi noted the kamon embroidered in gold on the back of the russet brown kimono the older woman wore. Unlike most kamon, it wasn’t round in shape, but triangular, and it had a very familiar image of a stylized dragon within it.

Rumiko giggled nervously as she stood in the doorway and addressed Sakura. “Not to worry. It’s probably just a large squirrel. Or a small bear. I hate it here.”

…o…o…o…o…

Kakashi brushed himself off as he scrambled to his feet, then quickly made the seals that would put some distance between him and the cottage. He relocated to the upper branches of a tall pine, about 100 meters away from the house, and swore out loud.

How could she think he was into little girls?

She hadn’t been lying—he was certain of that. The tone of her voice as she’d dropped this bomb left no doubt in his mind. This was why she had left him.

It all made sense now, a twisted, Sakura kind of sense, to be sure, but once Kakashi wrapped his mind around the tortured logic, the pieces did fit together. Sakura was under the impression that he wasn’t in love with her, but with the girl he’d met twelve years earlier. No wonder she’d run away. No wonder she had looked at him in horror as she’d come to the mistaken realization that she was in love with the real thing—not a soft-porn loving quasi-hentai, but someone perverted in the most fundamental sense of the word. Someone who preyed on children.

Yet despite all this, she was still in love with him.

He would have laughed had the situation not been so grave. A simple conversation could clear all this up. But Sakura was in danger at the moment—the teary-eyed reunion would have to wait. The Santaku family was powerful and its members did not hesitate to “clean things” up as the woman, Rumiko had euphemized. There had been a moment when Kakashi might have jumped into the room and rescued Sakura. But then she’d literally knocked him off his feet with her words, and he was lucky to have gotten away without detection. He’d nearly removed the element of surprise from the equation, and as it was a key variable in any rescue attempt, it would be unsafe to return immediately to the cottage to collect Sakura. He leaned against the tree’s rough bark and began to ponder a more strategic approach.

The new facility the Santaku woman had spoken of would need to be taken down. That counted as tying up loose ends from the previous mission, and was therefore not an optional activity. There should have been no survivors last time, so he felt no guilt about the additional blood that would soon be staining his hands. Besides, he reasoned, any workers who happened to be in the new building when it collapsed would be “boys” who would be deprived of the pleasure of gaping at Sakura. Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to imagine more than that.

He had until nightfall to set his plan into motion. From what he’d heard, Sakura would be safe from predation until then. Kakashi headed out into the woods, in search of the new factory and its unwitting crew.

Chapter 40: Reconnaissance

Kakashi found the factory easily. As before, there was no genjutsu to obscure its location, indicating that Santaku, as usual, had foregone the use of Snow’s ninja. That wasn’t surprising, really. Snow was so xenophobic that its hidden village typically refused to take on missions outside its nation’s borders. Furthermore, apart from the rogue ninja he’d encountered years earlier (who had all met their demise), Snow’s ninja did not work with the criminal element. And Santaku, for all the luxurious and legitimate hotels he owned in Snow, was nothing if not a criminal.

The lack of ninja would certainly make Kakashi’s job easier. Snow’s shinobi, after all, had worn chakra-enhancing armor when Kakashi and team seven had fought them twelve years prior. Who could guess what new weaponry had been bestowed on them since? Without Yukigakure’s assistance, Santaku’s men (even if they were a small army) should be easily outmaneuvered by the renowned copy ninja. At best, Santaku’s men (the word “boys” made Kakashi’s skin crawl) might be ronin, liegeless samurai. Their skills would therefore be limited to armed combat. It seemed much more likely, however, that the bulk of them would be ordinary thugs, bound to the Santaku family by blood ties or past criminal acts.

Kakashi alighted on the flat, graveled roof of the large, low structure that served as replacement for the one he had leveled weeks earlier. It was amazing that in just a few weeks time the workers had been able to duplicate such a structure. He might be mistaken (it was unlikely, but possible), but Kakashi was fairly certain this building was even larger than the last. It was certainly much closer to completion than the previous building, and it seemed to be more sophisticated. It was curious that Santaku would have upped the ante in this way, but perhaps he had reason to. Hadn’t Sakura’s captor mentioned something about high demand? There were no roads (apart from a faint dirt trail) leading to the structure; it must have been back-breaking work to haul in the tons of materials used in the factory’s construction. The cost to have done so must be astronomical. This spoke volumes about the importance of this facility to the Santaku family, as well as the amount of revenue it was likely to generate.

Unlike the previous building, this low structure had many metal chimneys dotting its roof, to provide the high level of ventilation such a place needed. After quickly surveying the area and considering the line of sight for each of the five guards patrolling the perimeter of the building, Kakashi moved to the very center of the roof and leaned against one of these wide, shiny tubes. He looked around carefully as he considered the probable layout of the building. Based on the arrangement of these chimneys, and his knowledge of the process likely to be used here, there was probably a series of three labs below, each dedicated to a different task. The preliminary laboratory should be under the least concentrated area of chimneys. Here was where the raw plant material, the fruit of an innocent looking flower, was first treated to separate and concentrate its active ingredient. Later, the gummy product would be reacted with highly volatile chemicals to purify it further. This was highly dangerous, as a single spark in proximity to these fumes could blow the building and its occupants to bits. The former was probably more important to Santaku, however, considering the investment he’d made in this structure, and the reputation he had for disposing of troublemakers. Kakashi noted the wider chimneys and associated fans located some distance away from where he stood. A steel-walled, bunker-like space had probably been put in place below. It would therefore not be the best room to target first. A series of exploding tags would barely dent a wall constructed in such a manner. A chain reaction of explosions, however, would. It should therefore be the final link in his planned takedown of the building.

The final step of production, Kakashi knew, was the reaction of the purified material with a noxious, corrosive chemical that would convert its molecular structure. The lab dedicated to this step, he decided, would be his first target, as the finished product would likely be stored nearby. Additionally, this final step of production did not involve explosive reagents. The walls of the lab, therefore, would likely be of standard construction and easier to take down.

In preparing for his initial trip, Kakashi had found out all that he could about Santaku and his drug-related history, as well as the history of the drugs he trafficked in. Snow’s chemists, he learned, had accidentally developed the procedure to be used in this factory in an attempt to lessen the addictive nature of the chemical that oozed out of the small, green, valuable fruits. The drug contained within the sap and seeds of this plant was a powerful pain killer and quite useful during and after traditional surgeries, but its major drawback was that patients treated with it often became hooked. Apart from its painkilling abilities, the drug induced a feeling of tremendous well-being, and an irresistible craving to continue that feeling at any cost. A less addictive substitute, therefore, would be welcome, and several companies had competed to bring such a product to market. In the technology-driven environment of Snow, they quickly succeeded. At first, the modified drug was sold as a miracle form of the natural painkiller, good for ailments as minor as sleeplessness or nausea, but it quickly became clear that patients using it in place of the original drug were soon worse off than before. It was at least twice as potent, producing even greater feelings of euphoria, and ten times as addictive as the original. The companies producing this “miracle drug” went bankrupt, their heads of staff and chief chemists were imprisoned, and the knowledge they’d developed was thought to be lost.

Santaku, however, had contacts in each of Snow’s prisons, from lowly guards to wardens. Although he couldn’t find a way to set free the bearers of this knowledge, the entrepreneur did everything in his power to make their imprisonment more comfortable than might have been imagined. In return he gained the knowledge he needed to create a niche market, and a product that people would kill for.

Interestingly, Santaku had appeared to have made the decision not to market his product in his native country. This was most likely because the laws were more stringent there than in neighboring countries, and it also seemed that Santaku liked the patina of respectability he’d acquired in Snow while pursuing his legitimate interests. He therefore imported his raw material from the Sound-ravaged former country of Field. The valleys hidden among its many small mountains were the perfect place to grow an illicit crop, and Field’s long-impoverished residents were eager to grow such a profitable crop, no matter its intended use.

Apparently, Santaku had chosen Fire as a site for extraction and refinement of the drug. This was likely due to its proximity to both Snow and Field. The raw materials needed could be shipped directly from Field to Fire, without ever crossing Snow’s borders. The chosen location’s distance from the hidden village of Leaf and the absence of a daimyo in this isolated area of the country were other obvious advantages of siting here.

There had been murmurs in the past year about a highly addictive drug being sold discreetly in gambling halls and pachinko parlors. Tsunade herself had been among the first to hear these rumors, though this wasn’t surprising, given the amount of time she spent in such places. This talk had concerned her greatly. It was one thing for shinobi to drown their problems with alcohol. She knew all too well the considerable long-term effects of doing so. But it was completely another matter to escape from ones problems with the help of an addictive, deadly drug. Those who did so would be unfit for duty, as well as for any other aspect of a normal life. Tsunade had called Kakashi to her office immediately after learning of this impending problem, and had assigned him head of the mission to prevent the spread of such a drug. It was a huge task, she knew, but one she was sure the copy ninja could handle, if any one could.

The fact that the drug was localized to these places of gambling suggested Santaku’s involvement. He owned the majority of such places in all countries that allowed foreign ownership of businesses. In countries that did not permit such ownership, such as Fire and Sand, it was rumored that Santaku used locals as a front. What’s more the rumors had originated in gambling dens thought to be owned by Santaku. But despite the entrepreneur’s near stranglehold on the gambling business, there hadn’t been much talk of addiction of yet. This observation was intriguing. With his wide network of businesses, Santaku had a first class distribution network. If he wasn’t selling large quantities of the drug in question, it must be because he wasn’t able to. Yet.

This was what Kakashi had suggested to Tsunade, anyway. Santaku was a business man at heart, and would take any opportunity to make a profit. If he could be selling, he would be. Therefore there must some problem in his supply chain. Kakashi had suggested a solo reconnaissance of northern Fire, along with a suggestion that Tsunade contact the allied nations that bordered Snow with a request that they do the same. Kakashi had taken on the mission with his customary single-mindedness. He been gone for months, but had finally found and destroyed the huge factory he’d expected.

It was imperative that this new structure be taken down, as well. The danger it represented to not only shinobi but to the people of Konoha, Fire, and the allied nations was almost unspeakable.

Kakashi crouched on the roof as he sorted through his kunai pouch in search of his collection of explosive tags. He’d had ample time to examine the structure of the previous building, as it had been left completely empty and unguarded at night. This newer building, though larger, appeared to have the same general structure as the last. Thick walls of concrete block reinforced (he’d learned later) with iron rebar had comprised the outer shell of the first factory. Its roof was supported by a series of piers spaced at 10 meter intervals throughout the space. The walls of the inner rooms were mere partitions. This should be true of the new building as well, for all rooms except those of the second, steel-reinforced laboratory. The flimsy walls within most of the building would crumble under the slightest stress.

Kakashi’s first job would be to bring the roof down, crushing any equipment that had been installed. The second job would be to raze as much of the outer structure as possible. Tags placed on two parallel, linear series of piers would accomplish the destruction of the roof. Considering the size of this new structure, he estimated that he’d require twenty tags to accomplish that task. The remaining twenty would be placed as far from the most structurally sound components of the outer walls as possible—away from corners and visibly over-engineered portions of the wall. He’d noticed in his last attempt that the walls surrounding the windows and doorways were stronger than he’d expected. They’d sustained very little damage despite proximity to the explosive tags. He assumed they were reinforced in this case, as well. Better to target the long, unbroken stretches of cinder block, then. Twenty tags would probably take down the bulk of the structure, though they wouldn’t do as much damage as he’d like. He could certainly make more, but to write each out took considerable time, time he didn’t have, once he placed Sakura into the equation. He needed to be back at the cottage well before nightfall. That left just a couple of hours to complete this task.

Sakura. She had looked so fragile as she slept. He’d surprised himself when he realized that the actual sight of her in chains wasn’t as big of a turn-on as he might have imagined. Well, to be honest he had imagined it several times. But the reality in no way corresponded to the fantasy, most likely because he hadn’t been the one to enshackle her in this real-life situation, and also because he never would have done so without her permission. That was what it was all about, he realized. Permission, and trust. He’d been lost for so long in his own private fantasies and the worlds of Icha, Icha that he had never really considered the difference between a flight of his imagination, where no one else was involved, and the real word, where another could be hurt. He’d never endeavored to make his fantasies real before falling in love with Sakura, so he’d had no need to consider how real-life might differ from the worlds he was used to. After the initial shock of her confession to Rumiko, Kakashi had laughed at the tiny scale of the misunderstanding that had derailed his relationship with Sakura. It would be easy to fix, he thought. She had completely overreacted, as was typical for her. But now he saw things differently. Sakura had been devastated when she concluded that he wasn’t in love with her, but with her former self. This was undoubtedly because she’d felt betrayed, as if he’d been using her like the inflatable doll they’d joked about. No wonder she’d left. She thought he’d abused her trust.

But he felt hurt, too, he realized, because she’d abandoned her trust of him. That she’d thought he would do something so low as fantasize about a twelve-year old pained him. That she thought he’d want to secretly live this fantasy through her sickened him. The idea that she’d seen their long relationship in a new and completely unflattering light, in which every innocent action was besmirched with the filth of a sick desire and reinterpreted through the distorted lens of true perversion—this idea disheartened him. Did she really think so little of him?

Yes, he was a hentai, in the most common sense of the word. Everyone knew he read and enjoyed dirty books. But really, it wasn’t as bad as everyone assumed. They were romance novels, really—spicy, graphically depicted romance novels to be sure, but plain vanilla in their content. Apart from the occasional threesome or foursome, that is, and the light bondage, girl on girl scenes, and other, slightly more daring acts. Okay, so they weren’t plain vanilla. Not even chocolate. But in them, no one got hurt. Everything was consensual, and everything was between equals-- between adults. Definitely between adults. Kakashi sighed. Of course, Sakura wouldn’t know this, having read only parts of one novel. A novel in which a sixteen-year-old got it on with her uncle’s close friend.

Kuso. That damn Jiraiya.

Kakashi saw that he’d probably pushed her too far, too fast. Sex in a public place, with accessories, was probably a bit too much for a recent virgin to handle. He should have gone more slowly. But she’d been so incredibly alluring, and so willing to go along with his every wish that he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She’d even teased him, taunting him with her beautiful naked figure in front of others. There was no way he could have stopped himself from proceeding as he had. She was everything he’d ever wanted, after all.

And she was a kunoichi, wasn’t she, a shinobi trained in the arts of seduction?

Yes. But she’s Sakura. Innocent, straightforward, slightly prudish Sakura. She probably skipped those classes at the academy.

Kakashi chuckled at the thought of his straight A, punctilious student cutting class. But he wouldn’t have put it past her. He really should have taken things more slowly. He’d do better, once they fixed things. He sighed as he thought of the long road ahead of them.

At first, he had thought their reconciliation would be easy. In the small amount of time he spent searching for the new factory, brief daydreams of their reunion had drifted into his mind, to be replaced by more and more satisfactory ones. He’d charge in and sweep her off her feet, after breaking her bonds single-handedly. He’d mow down her aggressors and she would fall into his arms. They’d share a passionate kiss. Perhaps they’d make love right there on the spot. Their physical reunion in the very place intended to demean and abuse her would wash away the feelings of fear and helplessness she undoubtedly felt. And it would wash away the feelings he felt as he considered her, even unwillingly, in the arms of another. He would reclaim her as his own, and he knew she would be willing. Then everything would go back to the way it had been— their relationship would resume itself with the level of intimacy, both physical and emotional, that he’d experienced with no other.

He saw now that their immediate relationship would be nothing like the fantasy he had painted. It would take work on both of their parts to reestablish the trust that had been damaged on both sides. But he knew that he would take on this task willingly. He wouldn’t let her go without a fight. He’d approach this as a mission. He’d think strategically, considering all courses of action and potential outcomes. He’d put his plan into action, and then she'd be his again. He would win. He was known for his successes, not his failures, after all.

Kakashi rose from his crouch when he heard a ringing and low rumbling below him. A small group of workers filed outside in a single line, then broke off into small clusters. Not surprisingly, the construction crew was highly regimented while at work. This, however, was apparently their mid-afternoon break. Some lit cigarettes, while others removed their protective helmets and wiped sweat from their brows. It was the perfect time to infiltrate the enemy, Kakashi saw. He could lure any one of them away, take him down silently, and take his place. Then he’d target his true candidate. This man should be someone with full access to the building, and the ability to come and go at will. The foreman, perhaps, or a guard assigned to duties within the building. Kakashi spotted the likely head of construction, who appeared to be engaged in a strident conversation with several subordinates. The copy ninja smiled as he bided his time. Soon an underling moved off into the shrubbery, for reasons unknown. Kakashi grinned. He wouldn’t even need to devise a plan to get one of the men alone. He formed the seals that would take him to this man’s side, then moved in for the kill.

…o…o…o…o…

Sakura lay in bed for a good two hours before she came up with even the beginnings of a plan to escape. First she cried, then let her imagination run wild with thoughts of the evening to come. She was too unnerved by the thought of involuntarily giving herself to over a dozen “boys” to think clearly. Her inner dialogue became fierce, however, as her panic grew.

Think! Think, Sakura. You’re a ninja, for pity’s sake.

Ninjas depend on their hands and their chakra. I have access to neither. How can I make hand seals? I can’t even send chakra to my fists to break these chains. The chakra keeps slipping out of my grasp.

No. Your brain is your greatest weapon. Stop and consider the facts of the situation. All of the facts. You’ve only mentioned two, and you’re letting your emotions spiral out of control. It isn’t helping, baka.

Sakura did her best to calm herself, taking deep breaths and imagining herself in a peaceful place. Not surprisingly, the places her mind drifted to were those where she'd spent time with Kakashi. The days they’d spent together had been the best ones of her life. She’d felt complete when she was with him, she realized, and totally at peace with herself and the world. And she knew that he felt the same. She felt her heart’s rapid pace slow as she thought of him and all that he meant to her.

Why did you do this? Why did you leave him?

Her actions had been rash, and stupid in retrospect. He loved her. It was so clear that he did. Hadn’t he deserved a calm, thoughtful hearing before she’d run off? No, not a hearing. Not a one-sided judgment. A conversation was what he deserved. A chance for them to talk quietly about their problems and to listen to each other.

You’re finally listening to me.

Yeah. I guess I am. So?

Then listen, now, and listen carefully. You don’t have time to moon over your lover. You need to come up with a plan.

Maybe he’ll rescue me.

Are you kidding? He may have no idea where you are. And what makes you think he’d come after you after the way you treated him?

He loves me.

Right. And you love him. But that doesn’t explain your actions. And you can’t predict how he’ll act in return.

Stop it.

You’ve always made such a big deal about your independence. Now’s your chance to prove that you’re the person you’ve always wanted to be. Then you can find him, and fix things. For now, Sakura, you need to think about the immediate future. Get to work!

So, what were the facts related to her current condition? Her wrists were bound, and she was unable to break the thick iron cuffs that held them. No, to be more precise, she couldn’t currently break them. And she currently couldn’t control her chakra. At least, she couldn’t direct its flow.

What else? The two persons in the next room appeared to have no idea she was a shinobi. She therefore had the element of surprise on her side. She was pretty-well rested, considering the energy she’d expended. If she did regain control of her chakra, she should be able to escape.

But that really wouldn’t be enough, would it? It would be much better to take the two of them down. This meant she would need to get moving before “the boys” arrived. What time was it now? She really had no idea, as the one grimy window allowed little light to pass through. She’d need to assume the worst and work as fast as she could.

But what exactly was she supposed to do? She seemed to be trapped in a vicious circle. She couldn’t unbind her wrists without chakra, and even if she’d had control of her chakra, she wouldn’t be able to direct it without the use of her hands.

Back up. You’re jumping to conclusions again. Are you sure you don’t have any control of your chakra? It’s been a while since you checked.

Sakura focused her concentration on the swirl of chakra within her, urging even a tendril of it to move toward her fingers. To her surprise it did move. Just the tiniest tendril—not anywhere near enough to accomplish a jutsu, let alone crack the iron bracelets that bound her. She sighed. What good could this do? At the rate her chakra was returning, it would be many hours until she’d have enough to break free.

Think, Sakura. How can you increase it?

That’s easy. It must be the drug Rumiko gave me that’s holding it back. I can eliminate the drug by targeting my liver-- the same as I did for Kakashi when he was so drunk. I just need to speed up its metabolism a bit.

But how could she do this without her hands? They were, after all, a medic’s toolkit—her scalpel, her clamps, her stethescope. Even with her normally excellent chakra control, she was useless without these tools.

Chakra control.

It finally hit her. She smiled as she remembered the advanced lesson Kakashi had given her, the lesson that had introduced her to a novel use for chakra. She didn’t need her hands at all. Sakura focused again, urging the tiny tendril of controllable chakra to her liver. She immediately felt her cells respond, and as they began to work overtime, she felt her control increase by minute increments. It was a positive feedback loop: the more of the drug she broke down, the more chakra she could control. And the more chakra, the less drug remained in her system. A not so vicious circle, this time.

Sakura’s eyes closed as she continued to heal herself. It wouldn’t take long—her control seemed to be doubling every minute or so.

“Sakura?” It was Rumiko. The woman stood in the doorway, hairbrush, kimono, and stack of towels in hand.

Kuso!

“It’s time we prepared you. The boys will be here any minute.”

Sakura’s heart raced.

Stay focused! You can still heal yourself while she does whatever it is you do to prep a whore for her big night.

A whore? A whore?! Why is this happening?

“Sakura, I’m going to release you from your shackles for just a moment. You need to know that Dai is standing just outside the room with his crossbow. He’s an excellent shot, and with only a word from me he’ll be after you. Please don’t do anything stupid. Just remember that you have a future after this.”

Damn that woman. She actually looked remorseful.

Sakura nodded her understanding and held out her wrists, all the while urging her chakra to continue its work. Rumiko unbound her and asked her to take off her undergarments. “You won’t be needing them,” she explained. “Put this on for a moment.” Sakura slipped on the simple yukata Rumiko held out, testing her chakra as she did so.

Still too weak.

“Dai? Bring in the water.” The door opened, and the kindly-looking man Sakura had seen hours earlier backed in, dragging a large washtub of water. He looked at Sakura with an appraising smile, then quickly turned away, shutting the door behind him.

“Get in. You can kneel. I really should wash your hair—it’s still filled with pine needles. But there isn’t time.”

Sakura looked toward the grimy window. The light did seem to be getting dimmer. She got in the tub and did her best to be compliant as Rumiko washed her down with a dampened sea sponge.

“In my establishment,” she said softly, “we make the first night special for our girls. If you were there instead of in this miserable place, we’d take you to a spa, and completely pamper you. I’m afraid this doesn’t compare.” Sakura held up her arms at Rumiko’s direction, as the woman continued to wash off the grime accrued from hours of travel. Sakura’s mind flashed to the expression of near terror she’d seen on Kakashi’s face when she’d intruded, weeks before, on the nurses intent on giving him a sponge bath. She felt the same, she realized.

It seemed like ages ago that she had come upon him in the woods and unleashed this chain of events. He’d been nearly dead, but had done his best to take out the enemy before dying. Rumiko turned away to grab for a towel, and on the back of her elegant kimono Sakura again saw the kamon she recognized as Santaku’s. She startled, as she remembered just where she’d seen that seal before. The tattoo on Kakashi’s attackers—it had been identical. No wonder he knew this part of Fire so well. It had to have been he who destroyed the large building she’d come across.

Maybe he knows I’m in danger. Maybe he’s coming. Please, please make him come. I don’t think I can do this alone.

“Honestly, though, I’m not sure why I’m bothering with this. Those men will be happy that you’re simply alive, and female. They really don’t deserve someone like you.” Sakura’s look of fear must have been apparent to the woman, for she continued, “I shouldn’t have said that. Just pretend you’re somewhere else, and it will be over before you know it. Come on out. You can towel yourself off.”

In moments, Sakura was back in shackles, although now she was covered in the thin yukata. It had no obi, however, not even a simple tie. It therefore hung open. She clutched it against her, as best she could. At least Rumiko had kept her arms in front of her. But the cuffs were too close together to allow her hands to move into a position where she could form seals.

“Ah. The boys are arriving.” Rumiko quickly brushed Sakura’s hair clean of the needles still stuck in it, and ran her fingers through to fluff it. She then smiled, satisfied with her work.

Sakura measured her chakra again. Still too weak to break the shackles, but steadily strengthening.

“I’ll be taking you out there, just to give them a peek. It helps the impatient ones a bit to see what they’re waiting for. Well, shall we?”

She held Sakura’s arm as she guided the reluctant woman through the tiny kitchen into an equally small living area. There were already several men in the room, and more quickly filed in, each giving her leering looks and comments to match. The rear was brought up by the largest man of all, an intimidating example of the effects of excess bodily testosterone. Worse, still, he seemed to be in charge. The man pushed his way to the room’s only couch, ignoring its current occupants, who quickly scurried out of his way.

Kakashi, please don’t hate me for this.

Would he even want her after these animals were through with her? Assuming he forgave her first for leaving, that is?

Stop it, Sakura! This is not the time for self pity. You need a plan, and fast. You need to stall.

That was it. Stall for a while, then go back into the room with the smallest, puniest “boy” she could find, wring his neck and run for her life. It probably wasn’t the best plan. Hell, it wasn’t even a good plan, but it was all she could think of at the moment.

“Are we all here?” Rumiko’s voice was cheerful, but authoritative, as Sakura imagined a madam’s might be. Fifteen men had crowded inside the room, and Sakura could see several others gathered on the small porch. They looked like guards of some type. That would certainly influence her get-away plans.

“This is Sakura, your new comfort woman. Sakura, would you turn around slowly, so that all of the boys can see you?”

Sakura did as requested, feeling more like a piece of meat than she ever had before. She felt her cheeks burn with shame, but held her head high.

“Now open your robe.”

Damn it. This was going faster than she’d expected—how could she get more time? She might as well humiliate herself further. Sakura opened the robe, but slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. Then men howled and whistled as she did so, in eager approval of her impromptu strip-tease. She mustered a shy smile as she lowered the robe to rest below her shoulders, exposing first the upper curve of her breasts, then their entirety. She dropped the robe to her elbows to show her finely sculpted abdomen and waist, then took a deep breath as she prepared to open it completely.

“I’m first. I want her now.” Sakura looked up, eyes wide, to see the “boy” she feared most speaking in a rumbling bass voice. She clutched the robe around her as she paled in terror.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Dekai. You were too rough with the last girl. You’re the reason she ran away. You can have her last.” The eyes of the other fourteen “boys” in the room turned first to Rumiko, then to the oversized man on the couch, but most averted their eyes as they did so. He was someone to be feared, apparently, by both males and females.

The hulking man rose from his seat and cleared his throat, then crossed the room in a mere two strides. He grabbed Sakura’s arm and said in a softer, but still somewhat threatening voice, “I’ll be gentle. Promise.”

A reluctant Rumiko held out the key to Sakura’s shackles and quickly stepped aside. Then, with a compassionate look at her frightened comfort woman, she hoped for the best.

Chapter 41: Rescue

It took far too long to get things ready. Taking the place of the foreman had been a snap, of course, but that had been the least of his concerns. Kakashi had been cautious, carefully watching the man for a good half hour before doing him in. With the help of the Sharingan eye and his own eidetic memory, he’d memorized the man’s gait, the way he held his body, the way he invaded other people’s space when conversing (or to be more precise, yelling), and the many gestures he made when doing so. And as usual, Kakashi found that once he’d performed the henge jutsu, the victim’s own physical characteristics made the shinobi’s job of mimicking the timbre and overall quality of his voice a simple matter.

As the foreman, Kakashi had unrestricted access to the building in progress, and the copy ninja was pleased (although not really surprised) to find out that its layout was as almost exactly as he had surmised. The large, warehouse-like space was divided into three major laboratories, each room open to the ceiling which rested on large steel columns still unclad by lath and plaster. Kakashi was even more pleased to see that the columns were in the process of being inspected. Tall ladders were scattered throughout the building, providing ready, unremarkable access to the structures. (It wouldn’t do to be seen walking up the side of each column, after all.) Kakashi quickly decided that a seal placed about halfway up each riveted metal support would provide maximal damage, considering that the bases were far wider than the top of each column. It would be a small matter to apply the seals, and he’d set to work immediately on this job, camouflaging each thin rectangle of paper to resemble a small inspection tag. Using thin threads of chakra, he’d linked the seals together into a web-like network as he moved from column to column—a remote jutsu he was particularly fond of would cause the explosives to detonate within split seconds of each other.

That aspect of his task hadn’t taken long at all—only an hour to distribute the explosives in the most efficiently destructive manner possible. What had been time-consuming was preparing the perimeter. The walls were slightly thicker than he expected, which shouldn’t have been too much of a problem, but their inner surfaces were already framed and sheathed with plaster. Placing the explosives on these non-structural components would dampen, significantly, the effect of the explosion. They would certainly rip a large hole in the wall were he to place them there, but holes could be repaired. Kakashi wanted the building to be leveled by his actions. To do so, each seal would need to be sunk into the concrete blocks comprising the wall. But whether or not to place the seals on the interior walls was a moot decision, he’d realized as he’d quickly determined that access to the inner side of these walls was severely limited. The building’s outer structure was ringed internally by a contiguous series of rooms. Only a few of these rooms were empty. The rest were crammed full with the equipment, glassware and machinery that would soon be installed in the three large laboratories.

He’d seen this as good news, in part. While the construction of this building was most likely undertaken at enormous expense, the specialized, and undoubtedly custom-made equipment to be housed by the building most likely matched that cost. That these materials were already here, just waiting to be destroyed along with the near-finished factory was a stroke of good fortune. Their loss would most likely make immediate reconstruction of the site impossible. The factory building and its contents were not likely to be insured, after all, as underwriters tended to be a law abiding lot, and even with his immensely deep pockets, Santaku still was required to pay attention to the bottom line. Kakashi did not doubt that in time the family would rebuild, but the longer it took them to do so, the better Fire would be prepared to combat the inevitable deluge of drugs within its borders.

The presence of all of this equipment, jam-packed to form a glass and metal annulus, had been bad news, as well. Slapping the seals onto the equipment itself so was unlikely to take down the outer walls—the most critical step in the building’s deconstruction. Kakashi quickly realized he would need to apply the seals to the outside of the building. That would be troublesome, as the outer perimeter of the building was well guarded, and again, it would take time to sink each seal into the concrete blocks making up the outer walls. While his visits to nearly every column inside the structure hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary, Kakashi had a feeling that this wouldn’t be true outside of the structure. Spending two to four minutes at each of the twenty places he’d targeted would likely be viewed with suspicion, even if he claimed to be doing some type of inspection.

He’d quickly considered his options. He could use the Kakuremino jutsu, as he could transform any spare object into a camoflaged piece of cloth, but the truth was this E-ranked jutsu definitely deserved its beginners’ ranking. Even in the hands of a master technical specialist the technique was pretty lame. Any one with sharp eyes would be able to detect the edges of the cloth that served as shroud for the user, particularly if he was moving from place to place. So where did that leave him? Genjutsu? He knew of several jutsu similar to Kurenai’s tree moving techniques, and with time he might be able to strip them down to their most basic consituents, and in so doing isolate the invisibility technique central to each. But he didn’t have the luxury of time.

Sharingan. The guard seemed to be on a fairly strict schedule, and in just a few minutes Kakashi deduced when and where he was likely to see each of them. By keeping his foreign eye activated, he would be able to detect any peripheral movement that would signal the unexpected approach of the guards or of any one else for that matter, and thereby stay one step ahead of the watch. His plan to target the outer wall piecemeal went off without a hitch, but slowly, and the hour and a half spent using his best friend’s eye, despite the mundane nature of this use, put a significant dent in Kakashi’s chakra reserves.

It was close to sundown by the time he’d finished, and he’d had to hurry to catch up with the group of rowdy men eager to visit their new comfort woman. If the guards hadn’t been escorting them, he would have taken the group out right then and there. The comments they were making had infuriated him to the point where he could barely contain himself from lashing out. Although they hadn’t laid eyes on her yet, that was his woman they were discussing in less than genteel terms. It was his future wife (he was still sure she’d say yes, eventually) they were talking about fucking, his lover they were referring to as a piece of meat, as an object to pork, then discard like a soiled condom. It was his Sakura they were referring to as a cocksucker, as an available orifice, as a welcome change from their hands.

He’d realized then that he was looking forward to killing them.

But he couldn’t do it just yet. True, they were sweaty and tired after a long day working under him (upon hearing some of their comments earlier that afternoon, Kakashi had assigned a few of them a bit of extra work along with an unreasonable deadline), and they were untrained in and unaware of anything remotely resembling shinobi tactics. He could eliminate them in a matter of minutes—perhaps 45 seconds per man. But Kakashi had the problem of the accompanying guards to consider. Although he’d carefully avoided these men as he’d sunk the explosive seals into the factory walls, he’d learned quite a bit through hearing the random snatches of their conversations as each group approached. To take the edge off the boredom inherent to a task like guarding an isolated building, the watchmen had buddied up, and seemed to have a lot to talk about. Several were quite excited about the new weapon they had at their disposal, and once Kakashi joined the procession heading up to the cottage, he’d surreptitiously taken a look at the object of their discussions.

He hadn’t seen a weapon like this before, and the ingenuity of its technology astounded him. It seemed to be a hand-cranked tool with a revolving barrel capable of firing a battery of kunai in a steady stream. The guards, he noted, wore these weapons slung over their backs, as well as belts containing hundreds of small kunai crisscrossed over their chests. Even without the precise targeting ability of a shinobi, with the help of these weapons these men would be a force to be reckoned with. A spray of 100 kunai was likely to hit its target, even if the target was moving. Several sprays of kunai were likely to kill.

This put a wrinkle in his plans. He’d need to take out the guards before even considering action against the workmen or the Santaku woman. Which technique would work best against a rapid onslaught of hundreds of kunai? As they approached the wood-clad, straw-thatched cabin, Kakashi had racked his brain, considering each of the thousand plus jutsu he’d mastered. Genjutsu was the obvious answer this time. Trapping the guards in a distraction in which they couldn’t see their weapons would allow him to disarm them quietly and efficiently. But the past hour and a half had drained him considerably—he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to maintain even a simple illusion. He would need Sakura’s help, he’d quickly realized. As a genjutsu type she would have no trouble distracting the guards. But her chakra hadn’t seemed right earlier. He hoped she was up for a battle.

Kakashi made his way up the cottage’s small flight of stairs and into the already crowded room. His vantage point was horrible, but he didn’t want to cause a commotion. One on one, he’d been able to fool his coworkers into believing he was their boss. But in a room surrounded by all of them, he was less certain his ruse would be successful. He needn’t have worried, however. His subordinates parted before him as they noticed his presence, allowing him the best view possible of the room and its occupants.

She was scared, he quickly realized. Terribly scared-- as well she should be. Kakashi’s eyes scanned the room as he did his best to put himself in her shoes. He saw a crowd of animals, a pack of dogs eager to rut with whatever flesh made itself available to them. Or rather, with whatever flesh was made available to them. The fact that these men would consider it acceptable to fuck a woman held hostage amazed him. This wasn’t the typical kidnapping and rape scenario, after all. These men had played no part in her capture and therefore were not in the throes of the associated adrenaline rush that often caused captors to deny the humanity of their victims. These men didn’t have such hot bloodedness as an excuse (not that it was an acceptable one). They were coming in cold, with forethought and deliberation. Each of them had decided that it was perfectly acceptable to gang bang a woman who, though described as a prostitute, had obviously been procured for them by force. She was shackled, after all! They’d have to be complete idiots not to notice that. Somehow, their cold-blooded complicity in this comfort-woman scheme seemed even worse to him than the alternatives he’d seen time and time again. But perhaps that wasn’t it. Maybe it was simply the fact that it was his Sakura standing there, that made him want to draw and quarter any man who had the temerity to look at her as mere flesh. Or had the temerity to look at her at all.

Sakura was trying to buy time, he saw, a good move, though her slow disrobing was doing more to egg these men on than perhaps she’d anticipated. He felt the mood in the room change as her upper portion of breasts became visible, and he felt the almost palpable sensation of animal lust intensify to a feverish level as she allowed the thin robe to drop further, completely exposing the magnificent, alabaster half spheres.

He’d planned on acting with more subtlety, but this sight was just too much for him. There was absolutely no way he would allow anyone in this room to see an additional square centimeter of his lover’s flesh.

“I’m first. I want her now,” he said as he stood. It was clear to all that he wouldn’t he’d take no for an answer, and the woman serving as pimp/madam quickly acceded to his request. He’d looked at Sakura then, quickly crossing the room to claim possession of her, while doing his best to help her see that the stranger she saw was actually he.

“I’ll be gentle. Promise.”

Sakura recoiled at the touch of the oversized man next to her. He looked at her with what could only be described as a leer before steering her out of the small living room and towards her makeshift ‘boudoir.’ Rumiko had actually referred to it as that, as though Sakura were a woman of means and leisure. Or just leisure. Not that such distinctions mattered at the moment. She was about to be raped, after all, by the largest, ugliest man she’d ever seen. He was Neanderthal in appearance, from his sloping brow to his near absence of neck, from his enormous shoulders and ribcage to the size of his arms. His biceps were substantially larger than her thighs, she realized, and quite possibly the same circumference as her waist, and the hand on her arm nearly spanned the distance from her shoulder to elbow. Massive was the only word that could describe this man. Just the weight of his body against her would be enough to crush her, should he move against her with any momentum. Sakura wouldn’t allow herself to consider any other aspects of his anatomy and she also stifled any thoughts of their incipient interaction. She had to make sure it didn’t happen.

With a small movement she forced her hands apart while directing chakra to each wrist. She felt the slightest surge of power, but nowhere near enough to even bend the metal bindings, let alone shatter them. Use of her “insane” strength was therefore still not an option. She felt herself begin to perspire, felt her pulse quicken and eyes widen in a primal, limbic fear. She jerked away from the hulking creature next to her as his hand left her arm to shut and secure the door. She didn’t hear the catcalls that followed the sharp click of the lock, or the shouts of sexual obscenities as the living room’s occupants eagerly waited to hear her first sexual assault begin. She was completely focused on the man next to her, a man who was at least four times her weight.

He quickly turned to face her again, surprisingly graceful considering his size, and then he had the audacity to utter her name.

“Sakura.” He said it calmly, as though he’d said it a thousand times before. “Don’t be afraid. It’s—“

She rushed him then, lifting her knee as high and as forcefully as she was able, and felt some relief as he buckled and fell to the floor.

Despite the intense pain that roiled through him like a small tsunami, Kakashi did his best to stay alert. This was difficult, as a blow to the genitals tended to short circuit any cognitive processes. For several long seconds Kakashi rode out the waves of pain that spread outward in ripples. Next came nausea, as the blood left his stomach, then came a darkening around the periphery of his vision as the pain fully registered in his brain. Finally, the sensation began to ebb slightly, enough for Kakashi to get the upper hand. As Kakashi locked away his body’s response, and willed his mind to focus on other things, he recognized a new source of danger. Sakura was choking him. She’d apparently climbed behind him as he’d hunched forward on the floor, and had encircled him with her still-shackled wrists. The metal bands that clasped her wrists together were pressed tightly against his windpipe.

“Sa—“ He swallowed his words as he struggled for air. “Choke—“ He pulled his hands together and with a gurgling sound spat out the word, “Kai.” In an instant he regained his true form, causing Sakura to collapse against him.

“Kakashi!” Though she was draped over the back of him, she recognized him instantly. She looked at him in disbelief, then began to cry. “You came.”

He turned, then pulled her to him tightly and allowed her the luxury of a small meltdown, rubbing her back as he comforted her with quiet words.

“Good work, Sakura.” Somehow, this made her crying more intense. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” He pulled them both to their feet, after unlocking her shackles, and walked her to the bed. What did this sound like to the living room audience, he wondered.

“Sakura. I hate to have to do this, but we need them to think that we’re—that I’m—“

“Nani? Oh. Right.”

Kakashi rose from the bed, and quickly walked across the room to the broken down dresser. He knocked against it violently, swearing as he did so. “Cry out, Sakura,” he whispered as he returned to her side.

She did her best to comply, quickly realizing his reasons for this command. It wasn’t difficult, she realized, to act the part, considering how close she’d just come to living it. She half-screamed, half-cried, then muffled her moans against a pillow, purging the myriad of emotions she’d felt in the past few hours.

Kakashi held her as she did so, occasionally shaking the steel-framed bed to add to the effect.

Kage bunshins, he thought, were what they needed. He and Sakura needed to quickly go over a plan of attack, and he needed her to brief him on anything she knew. That couldn’t happen while they were play acting her rape. More importantly, he wanted her away from this place, as quickly as possible. While immediately necessary, it couldn’t be good for Sakura to be pretending to be assaulted.

He’d learned a lot, he realized, in the past few minutes. First of all, it was clear that Sakura’s chakra control had not returned. If it had (he almost shuddered at the thought), he’d have been castrated or suffocated. Or both. The pain he’d just endured, while intense, was of the normal variety, and quite preferable to either of these alternatives.

But if Sakura’s chakra was not available, his plans for both their defense and offense would need to be revised. He gathered his lover into his arms again, moving them both from the bed, then focused his own chakra and made two shadow clones. He quickly transformed them—one into a copy of Sakura, and the other into the Neanderthal foreman. This was going to uncomfortable, but it was their best bet. It was good, he realized, that Sakura didn’t have her chakra, as she would have insisted upon making her own shadow clone if she were able to do so. But, as shadow clones transferred the memory of their actions and experiences to their user, this would not have been helpful. The last thing Kakashi wanted was for Sakura to have any idea of what it felt like to be raped.

”Look away, Sakura,” he’d said gently as his clones made their way to the bed. He tossed the key to his Neanderthal self, who quickly bound the smaller clone to the bed. “Do you know where your clothing is?”

“My underwear is over there…” She had no idea where her dress or sandals were. She shrugged off the kimono, eyeing it with distaste. At least she would have a couple of pieces of clothing, however small, to put a thin layer of insulation between her flesh and the garment symbolizing her debasement.

“We’ll have to make do, then.” He leaned over and tore a wide strip of cloth from the bottom of the yukata, then helped Sakura back into the garment, folding the torn strip into a makeshift obi, and hiking the garment slightly to make it easier to move in. Her legs were almost fully exposed, he noted with the briefest lecherous smile, then snapped back to the task at hand. He quickly removed his kunai pouch and bandages, and secured them to her upper leg, attempting to redirect her attention as he did so. She seemed fascinated, in a horrified way, by the scene taking place on the bed.

In any other circumstances, he would have laughed. The thought of Sakura as a voyeur was something he hadn’t considered, and if he’d seen her gaping at a couple as she was gaping now, he would have wanted to explore her reactions further. But there was absolutely nothing sexually arousing in the sight currently before them. Despite the fact that Kakashi was doing his best to keep the interaction of his clones clean (but noisy), the sight before him disturbed him. The idea of Sakura with another man was abhorrent, and the thought of watching her rape repulsed him.

But Sakura could not look away. The bound-up Sakura was not in any way enjoying the attentions of her oversized partner, but the sight of her alternate self with such a man was something that the real Sakura couldn’t ignore. She would have been raped if Kakashi hadn’t arrived. There was no doubt in her mind. Even if she’d been successful in suffocating the first, how would she have escaped? There were over twenty others in proximity—she would have had no chance. She would have died if he hadn’t--

She was crying again. She was probably in shock, Kakashi realized. The quicker they got out of here, the better.

“Sakura? Do you have any control over your chakra?”

She nodded as she took a deep breath to settle herself. “Just a bit, but it’s coming back quickly.”

”Do you think you can teleport?” She shook her head. “Then come close, and I’ll take care of it.” He pulled her possessively to himself and formed the seals needed to put some distance between themselves and the cottage. They found themselves high in the tree he’d visited after falling off the roof hours earlier, and after situating himself against the rough and somewhat sticky bark of the bole, Kakashi pulled Sakura into his lap and encircled her with his arms.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t deserve for you…”

”Hush.” He kissed her forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Kakashi. I shouldn’t have left you.” She was crying again, but her body was no longer wracking with sobs.

”I’d have to agree with that, Sakura, but now isn’t the time to discuss such things. Pull yourself together. We don’t have much time.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to maintain the two shadow clones, and there was the matter of the highly armed guards to consider as well. Not to mention the long distance jutsu he’d planned to set off the explosion at the factory.

She responded to his gruffness, the way he knew she would, quickly shutting down her emotions and bringing her critical thinking skills to the fore.

“You took down the building I saw earlier.”

He nodded.

“It was some type of factory— a lab?” She remembered the containers labeled with the names of rather unusual chemicals.

He nodded again.

“Who are these people? They’re related to that hotel owner, aren’t they? And they followed you back to Konoha, right?”

Kakashi spoke quickly as he briefed her, giving her the essential facts of the top-secret mission to which he’d been assigned, as well as his hastily revised plan of attack. It would be best to delay the detonation of the factory building as long as possible, as the sound of multiple explosions would carry the 2 kilometer distance between the factory and cottage. Instead, their first move would be to take down the guards. Unfortunately (though he did not share this with Sakura) that would necessitate leaving the kage bunshins in place a while longer. The drain to his chakra would be substantial, but apart from this, he doubted the group of horny bastards waiting in the living room would allow even their supervisor more than a half hour with their shared comfort woman. His Sakura clone would no longer be play acting when the first real “client” came in.

He’d never been raped before. He really hoped it wouldn’t come down to that.

They would take down the guards as quietly as possible. If they could trap them all within a single genjutsu, they’d be able to pick them off one by one with the men in the house none the wiser. This didn’t seem a likely possibility, however. From their vantage point, the pair could see that the guards were scattered around the perimeter of the small house. What’s more, Kakashi was beginning to doubt he’d have the energy to sustain such a jutsu.

He jumped down to a lower branch of the tree and retrieved his pack, rummaging through it until he found a bag of chips and a canteen of water. He offered both to the kunoichi, who gladly accepted. She hadn’t eaten or drunk for hours and had not realized just how famished she’d become.

“How’s your chakra?” he asked Sakura again, once she’d slowed down in her eating and drinking.

She smiled a real smile for the first time that evening. “Not enough to crush boulders, but I think I could pull off a simple genjutsu. Which one were you thinking of?”

“Magen: Kokoni Arazu no Jutsu to make their weapons disappear, overlaid with Mousetsu Oboe to make them forget they had any.”

“Weapons? Are we talking katana or crossbows?”

”Neither. They have some kind of automatically loading weapon that fires kunai. I’d guess about 100 at a time. If we can’t disarm them, we won’t be able to eliminate the target.”

Kakashi looked more concerned than Sakura had ever seen him. Snow’s technology, she realized, could be the undoing of the shinobi nations. An influx of drugs could completely destabilize the structure of society, and their advanced weaponry could make the hidden villages redundant. Technological might would easily outweigh technical expertise. A shinobi’s skills would be literally outgunned.

Sakura slowed her breathing and attempted once more to focus her chakra. More of it was now available to her, and again she focused it to the tissues in her liver that were actively detoxifying her blood. Her body responded immediately. She surveyed her available chakra and recognized that she had enough for at least a 30 minute genjutsu. That should be enough time for Kakashi to take out the guards. She nodded to the copy ninja as he looked at her quizzically.

“Ready whenever you are.” The two jumped lightly to the ground and began their preparations.

…o…o…o…o…

The first four guards went down without a struggle. It was clear to Kakashi that they’d never been caught in a genjutsu before, and it was also clear that Sakura had outdone herself in creating this one. Each of the three men had seemed entranced, and each had wandered off, seemingly in search of something rare and elusive. From the looks on their faces, it was clearly something sexual that they sought. He’d need to ask Sakura exactly what it was that she’d had them envision.

He smiled as he considered her resiliency. Only minutes before she’d been a sobbing mess, but she’d gathered her wits and had put her considerable kunoichi skills to good use. She’d accurately inferred that these men, like those within the house, were likely a bit preoccupied with thoughts of their comfort woman, and she’d taken advantage of that preoccupation. Horny bastards—they’d deserved their ignoble deaths.

It wasn’t so easy with the fifth guard. He was drawn into the genjutsu, but it wasn’t having the intended effect on him. He didn’t go off in search of his lorelei, but rather, stood stock still with a befuddled look upon his face. He’d then started to run, as if in recognition of the fact that he was trapped in a waking nightmare, and had tripped over a gnarled root. The sudden blow snapped him out of the jutsu, and he’d looked up to see Kakashi running towards him, raikiri blazing.

The copy ninja wasn’t about to take any chances. His original technique was probably overkill for this particular situation, but it was imperative that the man be taken out immediately. The guard surprised him, however, reaching for the large gun slung across his back and firing off a strafe of kunai before Kakashi reached him. He died as soon as the raikiri seared his flesh, however, and Kakashi collapsed against him, scores of small kunai embedded to their hilts in his chest and abdomen.

Sakura witnessed Kakashi’s strike and the guard’s response, and ran to her lover immediately. She forced her chakra into him as she removed each small blade and quickly sealed each wound. It was a patchwork job, certainly not her best work, but it would suffice until their mission ended.

“One left,” Kakashi had muttered as he rose to his feet.

“Let me take him.”

“No. I can see you’re fatigued.” He’d noticed her look of total concentration, mixed with pain, as she’d closed his last few wounds. It was easy to overlook how much work was involved in mending a wound, particularly as she made the process seem so simple. How many times had she exhausted herself while healing others?

“So are you.” He looked dead on his feet.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can take the men inside. Use the fireball jutsu to hit them all at once. The detonation of the factory will be your signal that my man is down. Wait until then.” He had been looking forward to taking on her would be rapists himself, but it was clear to him that he was at his limit. Besides, doing so herself would bring Sakura some closure. He had no doubt that she’d berate herself for needing to be rescued, otherwise.

“Hai!” Sakura ran toward the house, using the many surrounding trees as cover. She climbed into one, planning to target first the roof, then the east-facing side of the tinder-dry structure. Kakashi’s suggestion was a reasonable one. She’d be able to take all of them out with minimal work. What’s more, the occupants of the cabin wouldn’t know what had hit them, as they’d be incinerated within seconds of her attack. The medic within her, dedicated to the relief of suffering approved of this. The kunoichi who’d narrowly avoided being raped disagreed. But there was no time for bickering among her alternate persona. She heard a deafening roll of thunder as the factory exploded. Kakashi had gotten his man.

She had mere seconds to perform the jutsu before Rumiko, Dai and the others were likely to leave the building to ascertain the cause of the explosion they’d heard. Sakura quickly moved her hands together to perform the necessary seals: Snake, Tiger, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger. She breathed in deeply and with a huge exhalation sent a spherical blast of fire directly towards the roof below her. She then jumped down and breathed in and out again, opening her eyes wide as they locked upon those of her former captor. The woman was gone in a flash of smoke and ash, as were the rest of the cottage’s occupants. The sweet smell of burning flesh turned Sakura’s stomach, and she leaned over to retch, emptying her stomach of its recent meal of junk food. She then stood and surveyed the scene around her.

The surrounding trees were ablaze, their sticky, resinous pitch adding to their flammability.

”Kakashi?” she yelled above the roar of crackling pine. “Where are you?”

He was back at the tree they’d staged from, no doubt. But why hadn’t he responded to her?

The fire was spreading at an alarming rate. It obviously hadn’t rained here in months and the trees themselves, as well as the thick padding of needles at her feet were excellent fuel, dry and calorie rich. Their staging location had been slightly uphill of the cottage, and Sakura knew that fires climbed quite easily. She raced toward Kakashi’s likely position with the flames as her competitor.

He wasn’t there. She scanned the area for signs of a struggle and saw none. Perhaps he’d attacked the guard closer to the cabin. If so—she didn’t want to think about it.

She raced back down the gentle slope toward the cabin, now screaming her lover’s name.

This was her fault—it would be her fault if he died. If she hadn’t left him none of this would have happened. They could be safe and secure back at the inn, making love or laughing over his novels. Hot tears ran down her face as she continued to cry out his name.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Finally, she found him. A flaming, broken tree trunk had fallen across his back, and the ground around him was darkened with his blood. Sakura wrestled the log off the ninja, then dropped to his side.

He was alive, though barely so. The guard’s infernal weapon had covered him, like a porcupine, in quill-like kunai. How was it that this one had escaped the genjutsu as well? It was obvious that several of Kakashi’s vital organs had been pierced, judging from the depth of the kunai in his flesh and by the quantity of blood that had escaped him. The tree had likely crushed his ribs, as well. He was a total mess, and she was in no state to heal him fully.

She tried anyway, pushing every bit of chakra into him that she could spare. She had better control of her energy now, but it was clear that every last vestige of her remaining chakra would not be enough. Her tears flowed again. She couldn’t lose him, not now.

Calm down. Think triage.

What was the most life threatening of his injuries? He could survive for a while without a kidney or fully functioning liver, but the many severed arteries spurting out his life’s essence were another matter. She moved her hands against him, uncaring that they were now covered in warm, glistening red, and sought out each severed end within him.

She worked quickly, mindful of the quantity of blood he had already lost, and sighed as the last major blood vessel was mended. With an effort, she stopped herself from continuing. They couldn’t stay here in the woods. The fire was raging around them and even if she were to rest for a while she wouldn’t have enough chakra to mend his vital organs. She needed to get to civilization, and fast. She lifted the fallen ninja into her arms, mindful of his many injuries and began to run. Her feet tread upon smoking embers, but she didn’t feel them, or the blisters on her soles that soon opened up and began to bleed freely.

She ran until she was well away from the fire, only stopping once she came upon a small stream. She washed the dried blood from her hands, then tore off another strip from her kimono and wrung it out in the cold, running water, using it to mop away much of the blood that had caked upon Kakashi’s torso. The lack of fresh blood told her that no wounds had reopened. She sighed in relief again, then collapsed at his side. She wondered idly how far they were from the coast, and from any town or village that might have someone skilled enough to treat her lover. She thought she smelled salt air. Before she passed out, she wondered also at the figures she saw approaching. The two men were clad in long black robes and wore a style of hat she remembered from years earlier. Its low, conical shape was distinctive.

“Akatsuki?”

The men wondered at the half-dressed woman’s cryptic reference to the dawn, but did not discuss it. Instead, each picked up a fallen shinobi, and headed back along the stream, and out of sight.

Chapter 42: Confessions—Twelfth date, part one

She could make out his features under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat—the bright moon shining down upon the four of them provided for that. He was clean-shaven, but his face was unfamiliar. Sakura’s first thought upon regaining consciousness had been related to the hard object she felt against her cheek. She’d turned slightly to determine the nature of the unknown item and had recognized it as a hand-carved wooden ring that served as a sort of closure for the rough-woven, dark overgarment the man wore. The texture of his clothes quickly told her that he was definitely not Akatsuki. Their kimono had been made of finest chirimen silk. This garment was of homespun linen, if she was not mistaken. It was patched as well—she could feel the edges of a roughly sewn square rubbing against her cheek as the man breathed. Sakura closed her eyes again as she tried to figure out just who was carrying Kakashi and herself. She felt a bit dizzy and completely exhausted, but that was probably to be expected after being drugged early on in the day, then nearly expending all of her available chakra in patching up Kakashi and carrying him to relative safety.

She’d been wrong before about whether or not to trust someone who extended a helping hand, but Sakura did feel as though those helping them now deserved her confidence. It didn’t matter, anyway. At the moment, there was nothing she and Kakashi could do to free themselves, assuming they were captives. They would need to bide their time, and if escape was necessary, do it when their bodies recovered. But something told Sakura, quite clearly, that they wouldn’t need to escape. It wasn’t her stomach, this time, overriding her instinct and intelligence. These men radiated calmness and tranquility.

The man holding her smelled of sweat, which was unremarkable, but also of incense, quite strongly. In addition, there was another fragrance that took her a bit longer to place. Somehow, the scent reminded her of her grandmother’s house—of her kitchen, to be precise. Her family hadn’t visited her mother’s mom many times, but each time they had, the woman had pressed upon them samples of her home cooking. That was it—tsukemono. The man smelled strongly of the rice bran used to ferment the home-made pickles. It was a strong smell, that caused most housewives, including Sakura’s grandmother, to apologize profusely should a guest enter a kitchen when it was temporarily devoted to the production of fermented vegetables. So the men—or at least her rescuer, anyway—were pickle makers. Sakura nearly laughed aloud. She doubted a drug trader, bandit or any other type of thug would use such a lowly, smelly profession as his cover.

“The gate will be locked, you know.” Sakura’s rescuer spoke for the first time, although not to her.

“Of course. We’ll have to ring. Shika won’t be pleased.” The man’s partner snickered.

”A shika is never pleased. That’s the nature of the job, isn’t it?”

The two men laughed softly at a joke Sakura didn’t understand.

“I wonder what our punishment will be.” The kunoichi felt the slightest hint of trepidation in the pickle maker’s voice.

”Last time he caught me, I was switched off my rotation onto janitorial duties.”

“Great. I wish you had told me that before we snuck out. As if kitchen duty isn’t bad enough.” Sakura felt a long expulsion of air as the man carrying her sighed.

There was a definite smile in his partner’s voice. “But you wouldn’t have come with me, Takuan-kun, if I’d told you. And it’s not like we made it to town, anyway.” Kakashi’s rescuer shifted the still-unconscious ninja slightly against him.

“Maybe they’ll see this as extenuating circumstances.” The pickle maker pointed to Sakura and Kakashi.

Sakura opened her eyes to see that the group was approaching a walled compound that was in need, it seemed, of a fresh coat of whitewash and a bit of patching to its plastered, shikkui surface. The disrepair of the wall was evident, even under the dim, silver-blue illumination of moonlight. Their rescuers, whoever they were, seemed to be a bit impoverished.

Her rescuer shifted her across his shoulder as he freed one hand to pull on a cord. Slung over his shoulder, Sakura was able to make out the writing on a rough hewn slab of wood attached to the gate post. Hung from a hook at what would normally be eye level, it read, “Let him come from every possible direction, and I will dispose of him like a whirlwind.” As the pickle maker, Takuan, turned, Sakura was able to make out the inscription on the slab’s twin. This one read, “Zoun-in. Gateless gate.”

Sakura heard the shuffling of sandals on gravel, as well as the sound of a cane or a staff keeping time with these footsteps. The gate opened silently, and Sakura felt the tension in her rescuer’s body release. She closed her eyes again, but not completely. Better for her to appear to be unconscious, she thought, as she looked through feathered lashes at the man who opened the gate.

“Harada-roshi! We didn’t expect you’d answer this late at night!” The two rescuers bowed as deeply as they were able, considering the load each carried.

A stooped, wizened man looked at the group with a smile of benevolence mixed with curiosity. “Takuan-san, Daigu-san, I saw you climb over the wall tonight, and figured you might need help getting back inside. Daigu-san, Katsuo-shika told me tonight that he was planning to speak with the abbot about sending you back to your home temple, assuming you crossed the line again. I didn’t think you’d want that, ne? But whom have you brought with you?”

“Travelers. Ninja, by the looks of them.” Kakashi’s rescuer cast a glance at the lack of clothing worn by Sakura. “Well, at least one of them.”

“Looks can be deceiving, as you should know by now, Daigu-san. Her feet are burned and bleeding, and his are not. What does this tell you?”

Daigu looked at the older man blankly. “That she’s a fire-walker?” he offered finally.

“I wonder if there is hope for you. Come along. Take the man to the sick room and the young woman to the guest room. I’ll wake Shusai to tend to them.”

He moved closer to Sakura and Kakashi as the quartet passed, stiffening as he saw the copy ninja’s partially-clad face and shock of silver hair.

“Sakumo-kun? Is it you? No, it couldn’t be,” the elderly man muttered to himself. “I think my age is catching up with me.”

Sakura lifted her head to look around her. It was clear that they were in a monastery, and a Zen one, at that, judging by its austerity. It was nothing like the Buddhist temple back in Konoha, not that she’d visited there much. That one had been of a more user-friendly sect, and was decorated brightly. This monastery was simple and worn, and very plain. Now that they had removed their hats, she could see the shaved heads of her traveling companions, and as they set Sakura and her partner on a bench she noticed the traditional kesa and rakusu they wore atop their coarse black garments. After removing their own roughly-made sandals as well as those of Kakashi, the two monks again picked up their loads, but not before Sakura noticed the small sign placed next to the neat arrangement of sandals along the wall. “Look beneath your feet,” it read.

Look underneath the underneath. Had Kakashi studied Zen at some time in his past, she wondered idly. And who was Sakumo?

The quartet traveled down a narrow hallway and into a small room that was completely empty apart from a lamp stand. Daigu gently set Kakashi upon the tatami-clad floor and slid aside a fusuma to reveal a stack of bedding. He pulled out a futon and spread it on the floor, quickly making up the bed.

“What are you waiting for, Takuan? Harada-sama said to take her to the tanga-ryo.”

”Hai.” The pickle-scented monk turned and began to leave the room.

“Wait! Please, I’m his medic… and his wife. Let me stay with him.”

Daigu snickered at Sakura’s words. “No wife dresses like that,” she heard him say under his breath.

“If she’s his wife, she belongs with him. And if she’s a medic, she’ll do a much better job taking care of him than Shusai can.” Takuan gently deposited the scantily clad kunoichi on the floor, then turned to the closet to remove the remaining futon and bed clothes.

“I’ll bring you each a sleeping robe, so you’ll be a bit more comfortable. Shusai is the one among us who knows the most first aid. He’ll be down soon to wrap your feet, and check on your husband.” Takuan moved Sakura to the neatly made-up bed and smiled at her as she immediately reached out to grasp Kakashi’s hand.

“You won’t be able to help him until you’re rested, yourself. You’re obviously exhausted. Sleep, now.”

The pair of monks silently left the room, and Sakura turned to Kakashi, quickly assessing his condition in the brightness of the moonlit room. She had almost no chakra left, certainly not enough to survey his internal organs. She sighed. He didn’t look good in terms of color, but from all other external signs he seemed to be stable. There was nothing she could do to help him, not yet. The monk Takuan was right. She needed to sleep before she would be able to heal her lover. She kissed, then nestled against the unconscious Kakashi and quickly fell asleep.

Sakura was awakened by a bell ringing, followed by the shuffling of many pairs of feet along the planked wooden floor of the hallway outside her room. Although they were extremely quiet, the rice paper walls of the sickroom did little to muffle the sound the monks made. The room she shared with Kakashi was bright, still lit by moonlight, but it was clearly still very late night. The birds hadn’t even begun to sing. She looked at Kakashi. His color had improved a bit, she noted with relief. He no longer looked completely drained of blood, as he had earlier that evening. But his clothes were caked with the iron-rich substance, and reeked of wood smoke. Sakura noticed that the two sleeping kimono Takuan promised had been set at the head of the beds. She carefully undressed Kakashi, taking the opportunity to look for wounds she might have missed earlier. She then wrapped him in the soft, gauze-lined nemaki and adjusted his pillow in the way she remembered that he liked.

After quickly stripping to remove her own soiled clothes, Sakura dressed in the remaining nemaki, then picked up the ninja’s soiled garments, separating his vest, and kunai and shuriken pouches from the other, more expendable items. The vest, like her medic’s kit, contained a number of precious objects. Her kit was burned, she assumed, as surely the flames had consumed most, if not all of the trees in the vicinity of the Santaku cabin. Her herbs, tinctures and unguents, though precious, were replaceable, however, and the medical scrolls she carried could be recopied. Kakashi’s summoning scroll could not, she guessed. She reached for the vest, feeling along its narrow breast pockets to make sure that the invaluable items were still there. They were, she realized. She wondered how he was able to sleep in such a garment, as he did regularly on missions. It was lumpy from the many hard items stuffed inside. Even the back of the garment contained an angular object that would make resting impossible for most. She reached into the roomy, back pocket, interested in finding out just what was so useful to the copy ninja that he’d give up comfort to carry it instead. She smiled as she pulled out the small, inlaid box he had given her two days before. She removed the wooden keepsake, pressed her lips to it, and set it next to her futon.

I love this man.

It seemed like an eternity ago that they had dined together under the dogwoods. And like a horrible person, she had left this sign of his affection behind. What must he think of her? She’d find out soon enough, she realized as she turned back to her patient. Now was not the time to think of such things. Not when her patient was still not fully healed.

Sakura reached experimentally for her chakra and was relieved to feel it present and circulating normally within her system. It wasn’t at its usual level, or course, but she had only slept for a few hours. She leaned over and pressed her hands against Kakashi’s torso, closing her eyes to better concentrate on his body’s internal workings. He needed blood, she knew, so she directed her chakra to the marrow of his long bones, urging the cells there to work overtime. She felt them kick into overdrive and smiled in relief. She couldn’t do much for him with her chakra at its current level, but this was an important start. She continued to pour her remaining chakra into him, healing a portion of the internal organs he’d damaged that night, until her energy was nearly drained, then collapsed again at his side.

After a while, her mind was rested enough to dream. A soothing chanting underlay the visual images her mind called forth, its pace kept steady by hollow sound of wood striking against wood. Kakashi held her in the dream, his arms wrapped tightly around her petite frame, his lips brushing against her hair. It felt so right to be with him, enfolded by his warmth, by his love. She pulled away from him slightly, to tell him this, and was surprised to see the look of sadness in his eyes.

“Why did you leave me, Sakura?”

“I’m sorry, Kakashi. I won’t ever again.”

“If you can’t accept me the way that I am, then there’s no hope for us.” He turned away from her, shrugging his shoulders in the lackadaisical way she knew so well.

“The way that you are…” She moved in front of him, noticing that he was once again reading his beloved orange book. He held it out for her to take, and she did so, her eyes scanning the page he’d marked with his finger. There was an illustration, she saw, of Kakashi and her, embracing passionately. In it, she was clinging to him, her thin legs wrapped around his waist, her hair long, her body immature, and so much smaller than his.

“We all have our quirks, Sakura. Is this one really so bad?”

Sakura bolted upright in bed, throwing off her covers as she did so. Was it really so bad?

“Sakura?” She turned to see Kakashi regarding her. “What’s wrong? Was it a nightmare? You looked so sad, just now.”

“You’re awake!” She collapsed against him, eliciting a small moan of pain from the Sharingan user. “Oh! Gomen. I’m not finished healing you yet. I ran out of chakra last night…” He interrupted her ramblings with a long, yet gentle kiss. She melted against him, glad he was alive and unharmed, and relieved to be reunited with him.

”What happened to your feet?”

Sakura looked down at her feet, which were covered by layer upon layer of white gauze. The monk, Shusai, must have attended to her as she slept.

“I burned them, I guess.”

”Well…” Kakashi looked at her expectantly.

”Well, what?”

“Fix them.” He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

“No. Not until I fix you.” Her chakra felt renewed. Kakashi sighed with relief as he felt her healing energy surge into him.

She laughed softly. “You always play the stoic, don’t you?’

“You saved my life, I take it.”

”You saved mine first. And you shouldn’t have had to do so. I’m so sorry, Kakashi.”

”For what? Helping me to complete my previous mission? Tsunade would have sent me back there to finish the job, you know. You just sped things up a bit.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you, Kakashi.”

He grunted in response. Sometimes the man was so taciturn it was infuriating. What was a grunt supposed to mean?

”Am I right in thinking that the more focused you are on your task, the more efficiently you use your chakra?”

“Yes, but—“

“Of course I’m right. Focus. I want you to be able to heal yourself when you’re done with me.”

“I need to explain things to you.”

”I know. You do. And you will. Later.”

Sakura hung her head as she continued his treatment. She had heard more than a note of anger in his curt response. At least, that was what she thought she’d heard. It was something unusual for the man, anyway.

A knock sounded at the door just as Sakura was finishing her treatment. She lay down again as the elderly monk from the night before entered.

“Konnichi-wa, travelers, and welcome to our sanctuary.” The man’s face crinkled into what seemed like a thousand wrinkles as he smiled. “You look much better, but I am not surprised. Takuan told me that you, young lady, are a healer.” Sakura nodded, a slight blush on her cheeks. “And you, dear man, remind me of someone from my past.”

Kakashi looked at the monk for a moment, then spoke. “This place is Zoun-in, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that?” Sakura asked. Had he really trained in Zen, she wondered. She knew so little about him, despite their long history and recent intimacy.

“Because my father spent several years of his childhood here.” Sakura’s eyes widened. Apparently, she was about to be edified.

“Ah. Then I was right. Well, almost. You’re not Sakumo, but you are his son.” The elderly man’s face was illuminated with a smile.

“And you are Harada-roshi, his master from so long ago.”

The man nodded, his smile widening. “I was the one who realized he would be better suited as shinobi than as a monk, though indeed, he would have made a fine monk. In those times, Konoha had opened its gates to new families, and his parents supported my recommendation that they move there to begin his training. I saw him from time to time, after that—the family kept their farm by the water, and they visited it fairly often. It was during one of those trips that he met your mother. They even married here. That was the last time I saw him, although I hoped he would return again. He and his family deserved the blessings of all of us. But he never came back.”

”But he did speak of you. You were like a second father to him, his shishou.”

Sakura looked from lover to monk, her eyes still wide. Kakashi had never spoken of his father before. The image that of the blood soaked, self-wounded ninja she had seen in Kakashi’s mind didn’t mesh with the story she was hearing. Still, it explained some things about the copy ninja. She realized that the reason for her comfort the night before, as the monks carried her, was because their quietude was very familiar. Kakashi was that placid on a daily basis.

“And you, like my deshi, Sakumo, are a shinobi of the leaf?”

Kakashi hesitated before answering, although the answer to that question was clearly emblazoned upon the hitae-ate that lay atop the pile of clothing next to him. “Yes.”

“As is your wife?”

”My wife?” Kakashi rolled onto his side and smiled at Sakura, a glint in his eyes. “Yes. She trained as a medic ninja under the hokage herself. She’s the best our village has ever produced.”

”Then it’s fitting that she’s with the son of the White Fang, is it not? Even here in this isolated place we heard stories of his courage.”

“Apparently, you did not hear all of them.” Sakura saw the sadness in his eyes and was surprised when he continued. “He committed seppuku to mitigate the disgrace he brought to the village.”

“It seems to me more reasonable to think that his death was the village’s disgrace.” The old monk looked at Kakashi with compassion in his eyes. “It is people who make a village. The companions he protected were therefore the village. There was no wrong in putting their lives first.”

Kakashi sighed. “It took a friend’s death for me to realize that, but yes, I agree with you.”

“You honor your father’s memory, in both your words and your actions. He would have been quite proud of you, I think.”

Kakashi smiled behind his mask, a real smile, Sakura thought.

“An assistant will you bring you lunch in a short while, and show you to the restrooms. You will need garments—those nemaki will not do outside of this room. I’ll have some robes brought to you.” The old monk bowed and silently left the room.

Sakura rolled onto her side to face Kakashi. His eyes were closed again, the visible part of his face marked by weariness. “I only said that because they were going to separate us.”

”That we were married? No worries—I did the same at the inn. Well, almost. I said you were my fiancée.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Didn’t you wonder why the woman at the front desk left me alone when we returned?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Kakashi—“

She was interrupted by another knock at the door. The second monk from the night before, Daigu, stepped in, another monk behind him. Each carried a small tray table holding several covered lacquer bowls.

“They say monastery food is worse than prison food,” Daigu said cheerfully. “Takuan did his best for you, however. Hopefully it will be palatable.” He set the trays next to their beds, and returned to the doorway. “The restrooms are right down the hallway—you may use the private one set aside for guests, of course. Third door on the right. I apologize for not showing it you earlier, but we didn’t realize you had awakened.” He bowed deeply. “I’ll return in a little while with some clothing. If you are up to it, you might like to visit our garden.”

Sakura rose from her bed, then knelt, bowing deeply to the monk. “Thank you to you and Takuan for rescuing us. We owe you our lives. Kakashi, this man is the one who carried you here.”

“Domo arigatou.” Kakashi joined her in prostration.

“We wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have a habit of sneaking off to a bar most nights.” The monk smiled as he scratched the stubble on his scalp, then turned and left the room.

Sakura made a mental note to purchase their savior a large bottle of sake. She had no idea whether or not monks were allowed to receive such gifts, but she felt certain that if such a rule did exist, this monk would be more than willing to break it.

Kakashi removed the lid from a bowl on his table and laughed. “Your favorite, Sakura. Okayu.”

”Yuck.” Sakura wrinkled her nose in disgust as she eyed the wallpaper-paste-like gruel. “Think I’ll take the first crack at the restroom, if you don’t mind. It doesn’t look like I’ll be missing much.” She hastily exited, suddenly aware of a most urgent need to relieve herself. She was still only wearing the nemaki, as more suitable clothing had not yet been delivered, but she didn’t care. She really had to go.

Kakashi poured himself a cup of green tea, and sipped it slowly as he uncovered and inspected the remaining bowls of food. Miso soup—his favorite. He grinned as he quickly traded the okayu on his tray with the soup on Sakura’s, then tucked in to his lunch. With any luck, he’d be done before she returned.

…o...o...o...o…

“Let’s talk.” They were seated outside on a stone bench at the very edge of the garden Daigu had mentioned, a formal rectangle of raked gravel, large stones and contorted, disciplined trees.

“Okay.” Sakura smiled, despite Kakashi’s serious tone. “Those robes suit you—I’d almost mistake you for a man of the cloth. Although the hitae-ate ruins the effect.”

”You should talk. Who ever heard of a nun with pink hair?”

“Maybe I should shave it off.”

”Don’t do that.” He took her hand in his own and looked into her eyes. “We need to discuss—“

“Why I ran away.” She sighed. “Do we?” She’d changed her mind about the need to explain her actions. It would be too humiliating, both to describe her thoughts and to have him acknowledge them as an accurate perception of the truth.

He nodded. “It’s private here. The monks are meditating now, I think.” The sound of wood striking wood issued faintly from the main building, in support of this assertion.

“I made a mistake, Kakashi, as simple as that. I realize now that things aren’t as simple as black and white, and I was wrong to make a judgment about—“

“What the hell are you talking about? Black and white?” He looked at the starkly colored robes he wore and shook his head. “We need to resolve this, Sakura, and we can’t until I understand what happened. What did I do to make you run away without saying goodbye? Start at the beginning, and speak plainly. There’s no need for analogies or metaphor.”

“I…” Sakura blinked her eyes as she fought back tears. Wasn’t it enough that she was willing to put up with his “quirk”, as her lover had so eloquently put it in this morning’s dream? Why did he need for her to spell it out? She took a deep breath and began again. “I made a mistake. Your sexual proclivities aren’t something I should judge.”

“My sexual proclivities. You mean the fact that I read dirty novels?”

“No.” She turned away from him.

She couldn’t say it, he realized. His voice was gentle when he next spoke. “Sakura, you think that I’m attracted to little girls, don’t you?”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. He’d actually said it, which meant that it was true, didn’t it?

“I don’t, you know. I overheard you talking to that Santaku woman.”

“It doesn’t matter, Kakashi. You never acted on those desires, so it really doesn’t matter what you think of when we--.”

”Are you listening? I don’t like little girls. I’m attracted to you, Sakura, the woman sitting by my side, not the preteen I met twelve years ago. Who was rather bratty, and a bit ridiculous, I might add.”

“Then why…?”

“You mean what were we talking about the other night? Apparently, two completely different things.” He sighed as he moved aside his kimono to access his kunai pouch. He pulled out the white volume of Icha, Icha and handed it to her. “Don’t be angry at me when you look at this. It seems that Jiraiya—“

“That bastard! He promised me he’d handed over all of the drawings he’d made!” She fumed as she paged through the book, blushing ever more deeply with each consecutive image.

“You knew about this?” Kakashi couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“I caught him spying when I visited Naruto at the hot springs. I threatened him, and he handed over the drawings he’d made. Then I burned them. I can’t believe—“

“This is only a galley, Sakura. I’ll make sure the book isn’t published.”

”I’ll make sure it isn’t published.”

Kakashi grabbed the book from her, before she had time to tear it into pieces, and hastily replaced it in his pouch. “To get back to the subject, I thought you had found the book and that it was the reason you were so upset. Things snowballed from there, I guess.”

“Oh.” The two sat silently for a while, each apparently contemplating the austere garden before them. The reality was far from this, however. Sakura arranged and rearranged in her mind the pieces of the puzzle that was Kakashi. Some still didn’t fit, however.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I do. Really, I do.” She paused, aware that the vehemence of her response suggested otherwise. “It’s just that you said that you’d been in love with me forever. What did you mean by that?”

He sighed again. “That is was hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened.”

“When was it, approximately?”

He hesitated, and she picked up on it immediately.

Her face betrayed her crestfallen state. He apparently wasn’t willing to tell her exactly when he realized he loved her, or even give her a rough estimate. Why? What did he have to hide if she hadn’t been a child when the change in his feelings occurred?

“Sakura. A relationship has to be built on trust. The look on your face, your body language—everything—says you’re trying really hard, but you still don’t believe me.”

“I—“

“I’m not going to watch our relationship crumble around us, and I don’t know what I’d do if you left again. You mean too much to me. Let’s go back to the room. I want you to see for yourself how I’ve felt about you for the past twelve years.”

“They’ll hear us. Kakashi, this isn’t the time or place—“

Kakashi laughed unabashedly. “Who said I was talking about sex? I have something completely different in mind.”

Chapter 43: True Intimacy—Twelfth date, part two

Perhaps it was because they were staying in a sickroom, but the futons they’d spent the night on were still unrolled upon the floor when they entered their quarters, although they’d been made up with fresh bedclothes. Kakashi sat down on one thin mattress, pulling Sakura into his lap as he did so. The bulkiness of her robes prevented her from straddling him, but nonetheless, their near embrace was provocative. It was clear to Sakura, however, from the tension in his body, that Kakashi had not been dissembling when he’d said he wasn’t thinking about sex. Something else was on his mind. That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the man next to her, though.

They sat quietly for a while, savoring each other’s presence, until Sakura finally spoke.

“So?”

The infuriatingly uncommunicative copy ninja did not respond.

“You said you had something to show me.”

Kakashi remained silent long enough for Sakura to wonder if he’d heard her. Then he spoke. “I do.”

She waited for him to elaborate, then sighed loudly.

“Well? Show me.”

“It’s not quite that simple.”

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“Promise me you’ll do what I ask.”

“What do you want me to do? I don’t understand—“

He put a finger to her lips as he continued, halting her side of the conversation.

“Will you?”

She looked at him intently. His eye held no sparkle, and his uncovered face did not show the slightest trace of humor, lust, or the common laziness she so often saw writ there. He was testing her, she thought, trying to determine if she really trusted him.

“Okay,” she answered softly. “I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do.”

He smiled, then settled back onto the pillows, pulling Sakura alongside his lean frame so that they lay side by side. He turned to look her in the eyes.

“I want you to take another look around my mind.”

“What? No!” Sakura sat up abruptly. “I can’t do that! It would be completely wrong, completely unethical to use a forbidden jutsu to—“

“There’s a medical reason. You should probably take a look at my eye to see how it’s healing, especially since I just overexerted it. You needed to check its wiring last time, didn’t you?” She nodded warily. “And if you’re already poking around in there…”

“Yes, but… last time was different. I never intended to sift through your memories. What I saw was accidental. That wouldn’t be true this time. Kakashi, I’m not going to invade your memories and thoughts just to placate my own insecurities.”

”Hana, you just promised me you would.”

”You tricked me!”

He laughed. “Hardly.” He reached for her hand, and pulled gently, silently urging her to lie down next to him. “You know I rarely leap before looking. I plan things out, and consider multiple possibilities.”

She smiled wryly. “You’re also a master of understatement.”

“This is the best course of action, given the circumstances. I said before that I’m unwilling to lose you.” Kakashi closed his eyes as he continued. “I can’t say this from prior experience, but I know that trust is the bedrock of a relationship.”

“I trust you, Kakashi.”

“I know you do. But not completely. Our relationship will be tested, Sakura, and even the tiniest crack in its foundation could be lethal.”

“You said we shouldn’t talk in metaphors.”

“Actually, I said you shouldn’t talk in metaphors.” He smiled. “But I will speak plainly. When we get back to Konoha there will be talk, Sakura--”

”So? We’ve been over this before. I already told you that I don’t care about gossip.”

“The most insidious rumors have their basis in fact. Just enough to make them believable, and to keep them circulating. Like it or not, when we get back you’ll be ‘The Girl Who Slept With Her Teacher.’ Emphasis on girl.”

“You’re not my teacher! That was years ago! I was twelve.”

”Exactly. That’s the grain of truth. Add to that the fact that I’ve been reading Jiraiya’s novels since I was sixteen, and ‘teacher as twisted pedophile, student as Lolita’ becomes a very believable scenario. Almost a certainty in a lot of people’s minds, I’d think.”

“So? Our friends will know the truth, and you said Tsunade is okay with it. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“What matters is us. I don’t want to lose you. Even if you don’t believe what they say, the doubt is already there. Maybe their talk wouldn’t immediately tear us apart, but it would make it easier for the next stress to do so. A shinobi’s life is too filled with death and pain to think that there won’t be something that tests us.”

“Do you really think I’m that weak?”

“No. Not weak, human. Like me.”

She looked at him, eyebrows lowered into a scowl. The man was so stubborn. It was clear he wouldn’t budge on the issue. Even worse, she could see that he was right. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that they’d live happily ever after. That didn’t happen even for civilian relationships. There was a reason, a very good reason why most shinobi just didn’t do relationships—they tended to be doomed from the start, and seldom lasted more than several months. The one night stand, therefore, had a very clear, almost honorable purpose within the ninja subculture.

“There’s no way I could sort through all the memories stored in your brain—there could be millions. Billions. So what would be the point of trying?”

“Sample.”

“Sample?”

”If I really do have a thing for little girls, there should be a bunch of memories, or fantasies, or whatever, either about you as a girl, or of other little girls. Men think about sex pretty much all of the time—“

“So I’ve heard. Some more than others, I’d wager.” She smirked and he relaxed immediately, apparently inferring that she’d bought into his plan.

“So if I were into little girls, even a small sample should contain some of those memories.”

“That makes sense.”

“Fifty memories should be enough.”

“Fifty? How about five?” Sakura telegraphed her frustration with her fists, leaving a sizeable dent in the kapok-filled mattress.

“Sakura, you know much more than I do about research, but even I know that looking at five memories would be meaningless. A thousand would give you really good data--” He smiled at the reaction this suggestion provoked in the hot-tempered kunoichi.

”Fifty will work,” Sakura said quickly.

“Another thing.”

She laughed as she shook her head incredulously. Just what else could he request of her? That she live inside of him for a week or two? Explore his body functions? Was the man a masochist?

“Knock me out first.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to control the memories you see.”

She was silent for a minute as she digested his words.

“Ibiki taught you.”

“Most ANBU learn how to hide vital information. Usually only one or two things at a time—it’s a hard technique to master.”

“Is it ninjutsu?”

”No, strictly meditation.”

“Oh.” Sakura thought for a while, considering the task she’d reluctantly accepted. “I guess I’ll just put you to sleep. An anesthesia technique would interfere with dreaming, and that might be a problem.”

“Dreaming would be good. I’d like to have some idea of what part of my twisted mind you’ve visited.” He smiled sheepishly. “I apologize in advance.”

“Is it going to be that bad?”

”Like I said, most men think about sex a lot.”

”And you’re not most men.”

“In my case, I’d say 99 percent of the time would be accurate. Particularly when you’re in the room.”

She blushed at the compliment, despite her concern. “So you were hiding things from me when I did this before.” He had to have been. She hadn’t stumbled across a single sexual image when she’d explored his mind previously. Funny that she hadn’t noticed that at the time. Of course, she wasn’t the one who thought about sex 99 percent of the time.

He nodded as he apologized again. “I didn’t want to scare you, and those massages and sponge baths stirred up some pretty vivid fantasies. Not to mention the reading.”

She smiled, unexpectedly pleased with herself. “So I guess my plan worked.”

“Your plan to seduce me?” He grinned at her wickedly.

“No, baka. My plan to bring you out of your coma.”

”People don’t call you Konoha’s foremost medical ninja for nothing, you know.”

She ignored the compliment. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. I’m fairly certain we do. It’s the prudent thing to do.”

Sakura barely restrained herself from punching him. ”Stop thinking like a shinobi-- just for a moment. Just be my lover. How can you be so willing to let me hurt you?”

He chuckled as he smoothed her hair. “How will this hurt me?”

“Doesn’t it hurt to think that the woman you love doesn’t trust you enough to simply take you at your word?”

“Of course it hurts.”

”Then--?”

“The two are unrelated in the end.”

“You’re not making sense. How can they not be related?”

“That hurt is already here. Showing you the truth doesn’t change that. But it does prevent further damage.”

Besides, if you can accept me after seeing how I truly am, then we can survive anything together.

“But it does prevent further damage? “ The man’s logic was impeccable, as usual. What she wouldn’t give to have a mind like his, Sakura thought. “So it’s like cutting off a diseased limb.”

“Nice analogy. A bit graphic, though, don’t you think?”

No, not really, Sakura thought to herself. Tearing into his memories seemed plenty violent, in her view. She decided to keep this opinion to herself, however. It was clear that continued arguing would get her nowhere. She was correct in her earlier assessment. Kakashi was easily the most obstinate man she had ever met.

“Let’s get started.” She settled against him after casting the genjutsu that would put him to sleep, and, after removing his hitae-ate, rested her right hand against his Sharingan eye. She’d be comfortable, at least, more so than the last time she’d done this. The sleeping Kakashi looked unperturbed, she saw, completely at peace with the idea he’d suggested. His eye felt slightly inflamed, Obito’s chakra mixing unstably with his own. She wondered what damage prolonged chakra contact might have on a person. It was one thing for a medic to imbue another with healing energy. It was only done under the tightest of controls, and never for long—hours at most. The same had been true of the somewhat unusual (yet characteristically perverted) technique Kakashi had learned from Jiraiya’s scroll. But this was different—two bodies, in effect, were occupying the same space for an extended period of time. Itachi’s vision, she knew, had suffered from overuse of the Sharingan. Would Kakashi’s suffer even more greatly due to this compounding factor? Having his own personal medic might be of some use, Sakura thought dryly, assuming he let her examine him regularly.

Sakura pulled her hand away, as she realized she was stalling. She really didn’t want to access Kakashi’s memories, and this reluctance had little to do with the large number of sex dreams and fantasies her lover had assumed she’d encounter. Despite his permission, this still felt like the ultimate invasion of privacy. Like rape, as she’d described it earlier. The fact that he so wanted her to do so only made things worse. This was ample evidence of his innocence when it came to this matter of sexual taste. He wouldn’t bluff about something this serious. Sakura sighed. She could pretend she’d accessed his memories, but that wouldn’t work. She’d placed him into a dream state so that he’d remember the images she accessed. He’d know therefore, if she cut the session short. She admonished herself for even considering such a plan, however briefly. It was absolutely hateful to even consider acting in such a way. Dishonesty in the face of a gesture this selfless would make a mockery of their relationship. She’d promised Kakashi that she’d do as he asked, and the truth was that no matter her reluctance, she had the easier side of the bargain. Sakura took a deep breath as she steeled her resolve. The sooner she got started the sooner they could put this miserable episode behind them.

She quickly made the seals that would allow her to penetrate into his brain, and placed her hands again over his Sharingan eye. She moved along his optic nerve, soothing it as she did so, until she was confident that the recent damage he had done to his visual system was repaired. Time to move on, she told herself as she inspected the bundle of nerves for the umpteenth time. You’re procrastinating again.

She realized quickly that Kakashi’s suggestion to sample his memories was not a useful one. If memories were arranged completely randomly within his temporal lobe this might have been an efficient strategy, but this didn’t appear to be the case. Sakura focused in on the individual cells making up his brain tissue and saw that if she lightly touched one cell with a minute amount of chakra, an entire network of cells lit up. During her previous visit she hadn’t noticed this, but she also hadn’t been looking at the cells at this level of detail. The cells, she now noticed, were connected together like the filaments of a spider web, into a three dimensional, lacy cobweb. The many elements of one chakra-lit cobweb seemed to comprise one memory. The first network she touched released a fragment from Kakashi’s youth—a birthday, perhaps. She saw a beautiful dark-haired woman she assumed was his mother, who leaned into him and murmured happy, proud words. He had inherited her lean, almost willowy body shape, and her dark eyes, though little else, Sakura saw . She wished she could see an image of this young Kakashi, but she guessed that like most boys, he had spent very little time in front of mirrors. There was almost no chance, therefore of finding an image of young Kakashi among all flotsam of the countless memories surrounding her.

Sakura touched the cell just next to the first, and was surprised to see that this memory was much newer. It seemingly had nothing to do with the birthday memory stored alongside it. This one was a memory she had herself—of the day she’d first met the copy ninja. It was amusing to feel his surprise at being clunked on the head with a dust-laden eraser, almost as amusing as it was to realize that he had targeted Naruto as the culprit just as soon as he clapped eyes on him—before the young boy even had a chance to break into howls of laughter, before the eraser ever hit his head. It was less amusing to hear Kakashi’s immediate appraisal of the pink-haired kunoichi assigned as his student. He had sighed internally. Apparently he had been hoping for an all male team, though those were a rarity. She heard his unspoken words. “She’s a suck-up.” And she had been, she realized as warmth crept into her face.

Sakura pulled back from the memory, and from the network of cells storing it, and concentrated on developing a plan to quickly survey Kakashi’s mind. This hadn’t been a sexual memory, but it was a useful one, despite its humiliating nature. Kakashi certainly hadn’t found her sexually appealing on their very first encounter. Anything but, in fact. So this was a point in his favor. Where should she look next? She considered the structure of the cobweb of cells she’d just accessed. Each cell was branched, allowing it to connect to thousands of other cells. Not all of the interconnecting cells were lit, however. Still, these cells must be connected for a reason.

They’re related memories, Sakura realized. The brain had some method of classifying memories so that they could be accessed on demand. If she were to trace along one of the unlit branches with her chakra, a new network should illuminate. And the memory housed there should have something to do with this memory of their first meeting. Sakura extended her chakra along a single, threadlike connection, and was delighted to see that when she did so, another set of cells lit up. A memory flooded into her mind. This was of another memory they held in common—Naruto introducing himself in terms of the ramen that defined a very large portion of his personality, Sasuke defining himself in terms of his hatred of his brother, and young Sakura not defining herself at all, merely giggling as she gave numerous sidelong glances to the dark haired Uchiha next to her. She heard Kakashi’s internal voice again, as he dismissed her and other kunoichi of her age.

This was humiliating. But the man had been right in his assessment of each of them. And Sakura had been right in thinking the memories were connected. The young medic smiled as she allowed her chakra to travel along another unlit branch but was disappointed when the next memory came into view. This one was about Naruto—apparently one of the many times he and the young boy had eaten together. Kakashi, she noticed, deftly avoided paying the bill, but did stick around outside (he was well hidden, she surmised) to giggle in pleasure as the boy emptied his formerly full frog purse.

Sakura backtracked. Although this memory told her quite a bit about Kakashi (how many grown men giggle?), it wasn’t particularly useful. Every cell, she realized, was like a room containing many doors. Each door led to another memory, connected in some way to the current one—perhaps they shared the same players, or perhaps they were connected tangentially, by location, time of day, or even smell. She opened door after door, traversing each long, spindly hallway with her chakra. She quickly realized that the passages differed. Some seemed to be wider than others, some more well-traversed than others. These ones must be the memories that were called upon often.

Sakura quickly limited her search to these most vital memories and in doing so, realized something else. Kakashi was right—he, at least, did seem to think about sex almost all of the time. Those hallways were widest, and if they’d been carpeted, Sakura had no doubt they’d be threadbare.

Fantasies differed from real memories, she saw. It was easy to discern them. The edges of both waking and sleeping dreams were indistinct, as though they took place in a fog, and there were far fewer details. What was there, then, was even more important. Sakura laughed as fantasy after fantasy revealed the same thing—breasts. And large ones at that. Not Tsunade-sized, but not those of an average woman either. Or even an above-average woman. These were ninety ninth percentile breasts. Connoisseur’s breasts. A variety of women filled the fantasies—women of all heights and colors and often, more than one woman per fantasy—but the common denominator was the abundance of firm, rounded flesh. Sakura realized she had been dead on, weeks earlier, when she’d mocked Jiraiya’s depiction of gravity-defying, melon-like breasts. Their cartoonish sexuality seemed to be a constant focus of this man’s dreams, anyway.

This was important, too, she realized. No ten year old, no matter how precocious, had breasts like those in Kakashi’s imaginings. And no one even remotely resembling a preadolescent figured in these fantasies—not even in the most minor roles.

He hadn’t lied to her. But she had already realized that.

He liked lingerie, too, she realized, but she had already gathered that from their interlude at Noriko’s Secret. He was fond of leather too—black, metal-studded leather. Sakura walked quickly though the short but detailed fantasy of a well endowed girl in a leather bustier and dog collar. Plus leash. Kakashi. Men. Her face reddened as she opened the door to a particularly vivid memory. What exactly was--? She quickly found the nearest exit and scurried through it, her face hot with embarrassment.

It had been she, Sakura, in that particular fantasy, sporting scanty black silk garments and holding an unidentified object. An adult Sakura, yes, thankfully. But did he really want to do that with her? Or rather, did he really want her to do that in front of him? She crept back inside the fantasy and watched closely as it replayed itself, still filled with shock at the graphic nature of the images before her. Did she really look like that when she orgasmed? The woman she saw was filled with abandon, and seemed almost out of her mind with bliss. Sakura felt Kakashi’s emotions wash through her. He thought she was beautiful, inexpressibly so. She felt the depths of his attraction to her—his overpowering lust—but something else as well. She felt a feeling of belonging-- that he saw her as belonging to him. Not as a possession—it wasn’t a materialistic, greedy emotion she felt. This was the feeling of being one with someone, of seeing someone as an extension of oneself. Of never wanting to be parted.

Of deep, abiding love.

Sakura traveled down wide, much traveled corridors and saw herself as Kakashi did. Most of these memories were fantasies, but some, she saw, had actually happened. It was strange to watch the consummation of their relationship from his point of view, but he’d meant it, even then, when he’d said he loved her. This had never been a sex-only relationship for the copy ninja.

She must have viewed at least forty memories by now, Sakura thought. If she was going to do this right—and she should, considering she’d promised Kakashi she would—she needed to go back in time, to look at Kakashi’s relationship with the non-adult Sakura. She moved quickly down hallways still possessing traces of her chakra as she retraced her movements. She moved out again, after choosing their first day together as a new point of origin, and moved adeptly through the maze-like circuitry of her lover’s mind. Memories of team seven were connected together, as she was sure they would be, and Sakura quickly found the images and sounds associated with their first bell test.

He hadn’t thought much of her then, she realized, and the sadistic streak she had been sure he possessed was definitely in evidence. She watched through his eyes as he crept up on her, and felt his silent chuckle as he quickly pulled together a genjutsu that would terrify her. Some people got into teaching for the wrong reasons, it seemed. She planned to have a little discussion with him about this particular memory.

Connected to these images was the second bell test. She’d been fifteen at the time. She laughed aloud as she felt Kakashi’s utter surprise at being uncovered by the single, powerful blow she’d struck into the earth, and she felt his deep admiration—and a touch of guilt—at the immense growth she’d made under the Hokage. Another door beckoned, and now Sakura found herself in her own apartment. She watched as her younger self, almost senseless in her distress, was pulled into a strong embrace. She heard his words comfort her—words she hadn’t been able to discern at the time, and she also heard the thoughts he hadn’t expressed. She felt feelings of compassion, and powerlessness and the same feeling she’d felt before. It was nascent, newly unfolding, but it was the same.

It wasn’t lust, and it wasn’t pity.

It was simple, unadulterated love.

Sakura opened her eyes and broke the jutsu, then pressed her lips against those of the still-sleeping Kakashi. She kissed him over and over, as though they’d been separated for weeks.

“Why are you crying?” She hadn’t expected him to wake up so soon. She saw uncertainty, and then anxiety pass through his mismatched eyes, as he attempted to wipe away the wetness that covered her face.

She kissed him again.

“Because I love you. Completely. And because I’m sorry—so sorry—I didn’t trust you.”

”Don’t apologize.” His smile was unrestrained, and almost overpowering in its luminosity. “Are you telling me you still want me after all of that? Warts and all?”

“After all of that? Kakashi, I want you more.” She crushed her lips against his, surprising him with the ferocity of her embrace. “And I know for a fact that you don’t have warts,” she said mischievously when they finally broke the kiss.

Their stomachs growled almost simultaneously.

“Another sign that we were meant to be together.” Kakashi stood and rolled up the bamboo blind that covered the room’s single window. “It’s late-- the moon has already risen. Oh, well. Missing a meal won’t hurt either of us. Come here, Sakura.”

She joined him by the window, and sighed contentedly as wrapped his arms around her.

“Are we okay?”

“Sure.”

“I would think you’d want to talk about some of those memories.”

”Later. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.” She was quiet for a moment as she looked into the clear night sky. It would probably be getting quite cold that evening, she thought idly. There was a faint halo around the half-moon. She shook her head as she realized she was avoiding asking a question that needed to be asked. But she had to ask it—she needed to know.

“You fell in love with me when I was sixteen, didn’t you? That’s what the memory felt like, anyway.”

He thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess it was around the time that your parents died that I realized it.”

“A sixteen-year old isn’t a child, Kakashi. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… your parents had died.” He closed his eyes. “It wouldn’t have been fair to saddle you with something like that. You were an emotional wreck—you didn’t need me to add to it.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s not all.” He was silent, then.

She waited, more patiently than she had done in their earlier conversation.

“I was your teacher, Sakura.”

”No, you weren’t.”

“You were underage.”

”I was sixteen. I was on my own. I was old enough to make my own decisions.”

Her eyes flashed, and Kakashi restrained himself from laughing.

Zero to pissed in 3 seconds flat.

“It wasn’t that simple. Try to step outside of it for a minute—look at it objectively.”

”Why should I be objective? It’s us we’re talking about. We could have been together for the past eight years!”

“Sakura, have you ever thought about why a teacher-student relationship is seen as taboo? Really thought about it?”

“Because the teacher might change the student’s grades?”

Kakashi laughed softly. “That’s an immediate reason, but it’s the least important one. The real reason is because the teacher is a surrogate parent.”

”I never saw you as a father, Kakashi.”

”Just listen for a moment. There’s no doubt that a sexual relationship between a father and daughter is wrong, is there?” Sakura noticed how soothing, how patient Kakashi’s voice was.

“Of course that kind of relationship is wrong. Genetically—“

“Forget about inbreeding for a minute, my little scientist. Would it be wrong if the daughter was adopted?”

She considered his question carefully.

“Yes. It would.”

”Why?”

“Because he’s her father.”

”But not genetically.”

“Because. Because their relationship is unequal. She owes her life to him, even if he didn’t father her. He’s spent his life providing for her and protecting her, and he can order her around. They’re not partners.”

”And it would be easier for him to take advantage of her than a full-grown woman. She might do it to please him. She might not even realize she was doing it to please him. She might think they were in love, and that it was right.”

”So, you think that when I was a sixteen year old, you would have been able to seduce me?” He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, but an image of a powder keg flashed into Kakashi’s mind, then exploded.

“I don’t doubt your intelligence or your critical faculties. You’re brilliant, Sakura, and you were brilliant then. But your parents had died.”

”So, you could have waited a few months! And you wouldn’t have been seducing me. I would have fallen--”

“If you’d let me continue.” Sakura paused in her quiet tirade. The least he deserved after tonight’s walk through his brain was for her to listen to him.

“You’ve been around Genma enough to see that he is fully capable of seducing the brightest of teenagers. He’s had plenty of practice at that particular art. We all have. Maybe I wouldn’t have seduced you. Maybe you would have come to me on your own. But even if you’d freely consented, it wouldn’t have been a relationship between equals. It couldn’t be that until you became an adult.”

”Which was when? When I turned eighteen? Twenty-one? I’m twenty-four!” Her voice was a soft, angry hiss as she tried to control her volume. She was sure the many residents of the monastery had no desire to listen in on their argument. And if they did, she had no desire to oblige them.

“I was scared.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You’re never scared.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Normally, I’d agree with you.”

“Why?”

“I already told you. I’d never been in love before. And I’d lost everyone precious to me.”

“Make love to me.”

“Now?”

“We need to make up for lost time.” She gave him a small smile that signaled that despite the vehemence of her recent outburst, everything was now okay.

He shook his head as he contemplated the bundle of conflicting emotions before him. “In a monastery? What happened to that innocent little girl I used to know?”

”She met you. By the way, we need to talk about your leather fetish.”

The copy ninja raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t planned on sharing that with you for a while. But if you like, we can go shopping tomorrow.” He unfastened the rag-woven obi that held her robes closed and smiled as she slid that long, dark garment to the floor.

“Your turn,” she whispered. She pulled at his obi and he smiled as he saw the glint of lust in her moonlit eyes. Her hands moved deftly as she disrobed him and her tongue moved immediately to caress his scar-adorned flesh. It flickered over his carotid artery, over the sensitive flesh at the nape of his neck, and lower, across his collarbones and down to the slightly pigmented skin surrounding his nipples. She bit at them lightly, earning a small gasp as reward, then dropped to her knees.

“You might want to grab hold of something,” she whispered before taking him fully into her mouth.

He cried out in surprise, then sighed as she released him with a small popping noise. “Hush. It won’t be any fun if we’re interrupted, will it?” She looked at him innocently as she licked the very tip of his throbbing length.

“Sakura.” His voice was a needy whisper.

“I learned a lot tonight, you know.” She continued licking the most sensitive part of his sex, running her tongue along the ridge of tissue that separated it from his long, thick shaft as she gazed upward to gauge his response.

The copy ninja groaned.

“I learned that you like this—“ her tongue slid along the ridge than ran along the underside of his engorged member, “and this.” She applied gentle suction to his glistening head as she cupped his scrotum.

“How about this?” Her lips surrounded, then slid over him as she relaxed her throat to give him maximum pleasure. She moved slowly at first, savoring the feel of him against the sensitive tissues of her mouth, then gradually increased the pace until he heard him panting and felt his hands in her hair, urging her to stop.

“You didn’t like that?” she said with perfectly feigned innocence.

“My turn,” he said hoarsely as he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the thin mattress. “No screaming. Think you can manage?”

“Ganbarimasu.”

He ravaged her with his tongue, caressing the areas he knew to be most sensitive, and discovering new ones. Along with her labile emotions came a ready access to passion. Sakura was easily the most passionate woman he’d ever met. She didn’t hold back when it came to showing her feelings, and she didn’t hold back now, as he caressed her clitoris with feather-light strokes. With each touch she grew wetter, slicker, warmer. He paused for a moment, when he heard a muffled cry, and looked up to see that she had pressed a pillow across her mouth, in an effort to hush the cries of pleasure she seemed unable to control.

He moved the pillow aside, replacing it with his lips, and leisurely explored the warm cavern of her mouth. He moved his attentions to her breasts, pausing to admire how they glowed, almost opalescent in the cool moonlight that bathed the small room. He rubbed his teeth across her fully erect nipples, mimicking her actions of minutes ago, and smiled victoriously at the whimper she emitted. He bit down gently, then sucked at the rigid tissue atop each half globe.

“They’re not enough for you, are they?”

”You’ve got to be kidding. They’re perfect.” He returned to his expert ministrations.

She wriggled underneath him, attempting to release herself from this intimate embrace. He stopped his caressed and looked at her curiously.

“They’re much smaller than the ones in your fantasies.”

“Men are wired that way. We think in absolutes. Fantasies are drawn in black or white-- there’s no subtlety there. In reality, though, I much prefer these.” He rolled a turgid nipple between his teeth. “Besides, you’d get a black eye running around with boobs like those. And how would you throw a kunai? You’d have no follow-through.”

Sakura giggled. “I probably wouldn’t be able to walk—I’d keep tipping over. I wonder how Tsunade can wear high heels?”

“I really don’t want to think about Tsunade right now.”

“Me either.” She gasped as she felt his member slide against her, and she pushed her hips against his in an effort to move things along. He ignored her not-so-subtle request.

“Don’t tease me.”

“You have me at a disadvantage, you know.”

”Huh?”

“You know my deepest fantasies, but I have no idea about yours.”

The woman displaying her passion so openly just moments before blushed fiercely now. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Sakura was a giver, after all, a born nurturer. It was much easier to devote herself fully to another’s needs than to even acknowledge her own. Kakashi intended to change that, if only slightly.

“What do you want?”

”You.”

“Me?”

She blushed more deeply. “You. Inside of me. I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want you to fuck me, Kakashi.”

In a moment he’d impaled himself inside of her.

“Like that?”

“Harder. Please.”

He slammed into her, over and over.

“Make me scream, Kakashi.”

“No screaming tonight, Sakura.”

“I’m coming, Kakashi.” Her cries grew louder as she thrashed beneath him. He felt her slick, hot walls contracting violently as she slipped over the edge. He pressed his hand against her mouth to muffle the screams she seemed unable to control. He felt her body relax and her consciousness return from the abyss of pleasure.

“Did you come, Kakashi?”

“Not yet. Are you ready for more?”

“You want to take me from behind, don’t you?” She smiled as she remembered a particularly vivid image. He rolled her roughly into a prone position by way of response. He folded the pillow from her mattress and his own and secured them under her abdomen so that her firm, round derriere was easily accessible, then drove into her liquid warmth. She was dripping wet, yet velvety soft and completely irresistible. He felt her contract around him almost immediately, and knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. She spasmed against him, her slick, tight flesh milking him rhythmically, and he gave in to the pleasure that inundated him.

He collapsed against her, spent, as he slowly came back to himself.

“Kakashi?” He heard Sakura’s voice, somewhat muffled as she was still pressed against the mattress.

He rolled off of her, and pulled her against him, kissing her languidly as they savored the afterglow of their lovemaking.

“You don’t think they heard, did you?”

Kakashi chuckled. “Well you did tell them we’re married, didn’t you?” He smiled as her noticed her embarrassed blush.

“Yes… but somehow, I don’t think they believed me. That might have been due to the fact that I was dressed like a whore, though.”

”Hmm. Guess we’ll have to set them straight, then.”

Chapter 44: Himitsu Bako – Thirteenth Date

It was three-thirty a.m., based on the sound emanating from the hallway. The sound of wood striking against wood was the daily wakeup call for the monastery, and this morning, for Kakashi, as well. He wanted to get an early start on the day, as it was a four hour journey back to Kawahana, the town most likely to have the supplies they’d need to acquire before leaving the monastery. Kakashi rose quietly and turned to admire the form of the woman sleeping next to him. Her features were softened by the liquid light cast by the setting half-moon, and her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes moved back and forth under their lids, an indication that she was dreaming.

About what, he wondered. The answer came soon enough.

“Kakashi.” Her voice was so soft that he barely heard her. “Kiss me.”

He couldn’t resist. He dropped to his knees and gently pressed his lips against hers, then rose again to look at her. Sakura’s cheeks had flushed and her peaceful expression had turned to one of desire.

“I love you. Mmmm… Please…“

She was still asleep, clearly, her body fully responsive to his touch, while her mind remained lost in a place of its own construction. Kakashi wondered if his dream self would accommodate her desires. Her gentle moan told him yes. He watched her body writhe under unseen ministrations, her back arch with desire. With difficulty, he tore himself away from the erotic scene unfolding before him, and quickly dressed in his newly laundered uniform. He— they— had waited long enough. It was time to put things in motion.

He grabbed his pack and shoes and quietly left the room, moving aside as a procession of sleepy-eyed novices passed by, undoubtedly on their way to the washroom. Kakashi paused before the wooden han used to mark the time at the monastery. In the dim light cast by a hanging oil lamp he saw words inscribed on its rough-hewn surface. “No one knows when death will occur; it may be much sooner than one expects,” it read, in part.

“May I join you?”

Kakashi turned to see the elderly Zen master approaching.

“Harada-roshi.” The copy ninja bowed slightly. “It would be my pleasure.”

The old man gestured toward the zendo as he joined Kakashi. “They won’t miss a doddering old fool like me. Your father was an early riser, too, I remember.”

“Yes.” They walked down a slate path to the imposing gate to the compound.

“You look like a man with unfinished business.”

Kakashi laughed. “Long unfinished.”

“And it’s related to your Sakura, is it not?”

Kakashi turned abruptly to face the aged monk. “How can you tell?”

“It’s in your face. Even covered as it is, your thoughts are legible. One doesn’t get to be roshi without being able to see beneath the beneath.”

“My dad could always read me, too. I take it he learned this from you?”

The older man smiled as he unlatched the gate’s heavy door, and stood aside as Kakashi passed through. “He would have been an excellent monk. So would you, I think.” He laughed at the copy ninja’s surprised expression. “That was a joke. I’d be happy to marry the two of you.”

“You knew?”

“Daigu was right. Wives tend not to be dressed the way Sakura-san was when they found her.”

”And still you let us—“

Harada chuckled. “I may regret that decision. You two were a bit noisy last night. It will be interesting to gauge the novice’s reactions—they probably considered it as yet another test of endurance.”

“I… we’d be honored if you’d marry us. Today, if possible.”

The man smiled placidly. “Well, then. Hurry back.”

Kakashi walked for a while before summoning Pakkun, pausing first to scrawl a message onto a small scroll. He secured the hastily written message into the small pug’s collar before dismissing him with a curt command. The dog was not inclined to leave, however. He sat, then raised his hind leg to idly scratch behind his ear.

“May I ask what this is about? It’s not even four a.m., Kakashi. Civilized beings are still asleep, you know. Just because you don’t have someone warm to snuggle up against…” The dog stretched and yawned dramatically to punctuate his statement, then cocked his head as he regarded the Sharingan user. “Oh. I take it you found her, and everything’s okay. That’s what it smells like, anyway.”

“Yes.”

”Thanks for telling me. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Kakashi looked at his longtime companion sheepishly. “Well, I was injured and pretty out of it…”

“You look just fine right now.”

“I need your help, Pakkun. You know I appreciate you.”

The dog smiled, baring his long eyeteeth. It didn’t take much to get on his good side-- just a modicum of praise every now and then.

“So you’re back together and everything is fine?”

“Yes. Everything is…better than I’d hoped. That’s why—“

“That’s what this mission is about? Why didn’t you say so at the beginning? Humans…” he groused, before turning to face due east. “You have to make everything so complicated.”

Kakashi scratched his head in bemusement as the dog bounded off. He’d never realized that Pakkun, like Sakura, was not the morning type. He wondered what else they had in common, besides favorite shampoo, that is.

The copy ninja arrived in the resort town of Kawahana just as the market stalls were being set up. He bought several onigiri and wolfed them down, along with piping hot tea, which lessened the chill he felt. He noticed several vendors had lit braziers to ward off the cold, and found himself gravitating towards one. It was still frosty here, despite the fact that it was late spring.

He hated this town, he realized, in spite of the friendly, immediate smile of the vendor who readily accommodated his wish to warm his hands, and the cheerful face of the woman who refilled his bamboo cup. But the townsfolk weren’t the source of his loathing. He’d experienced nothing but failure here. Apart from the two visits here with Sakura, one nearly leading to her death, and the other to enslavement, Kawahana had also served as the homebase during his reconnaissance efforts surrounding the Santaku clan. He hadn’t completed that mission on time, and that failure had nearly cost Sakura her dignity, if not her life. Yet once again he was back here, like a night insect to a wing-singeing flame.

He needn’t stay long, however. All he needed was some clothing and other items to replace those lost in the fire, and a gift of sake for the two monks who had rescued them.

Kakashi quickly found the articles he needed, purchased a large jug of sake from yet another affable vendor, then headed out of town via its main street. The street was empty, except for a single storeowner sweeping outside of his shop. Kakashi belatedly recognized the man. Apparently, sex-related business was slow in the early morning hours. The man smiled in delight as he saw the copy ninja approach.

”Ah! Shinobi! You’ve got to see this!” he cried over his shoulder as he hurried into the store.

Kakashi followed him inside, and gaped in disbelief as he saw the life-sized cardboard cutouts and brightly colored banners dominating the store.

“Aren’t they incredible?” the shopkeeper asked as he pressed a flyer into the copy ninja’s hand. “I got them early, because of my brother. But the book will be coming out at the end of next week. They’re starting a media blitz in the next couple of days.”

“Shit,” was Kakashi’s only response, as he turned with wide eyes and exited the store.

Shit, shit, shit.

He leaned against the building, resisting the urge to strike his head firmly against the wall’s stuccoed surface. Why hadn’t he, like Asuma, acquired a smoking habit years before? He desperately needed something to calm himself down. He breathed deeply, then reentered the shop and approached its owner, who looked at him with concern.

“Is everything okay? You seemed a little shocked just now.”

Apparently the shopkeeper hadn’t noticed the uncanny resemblance between the man standing in front of him and the bare-chested man in the cutout. Of course, his attention had probably been on the exquisite pink-haired woman draped over said man.

“Oh. I’m just excited. And I had a bet with my best friend that it would be another two months before Icha, Icha Teisatsu came out. I’m out a chunk of change.” Kakashi smiled his most winning smile, which translated as a pronounced eye crinkle. He noted its immediate effect—the shopkeeper visibly relaxed.

“You’re lucky, aren’t you, to have a brother who works for the publisher?”

“Oh, yes. Although I don’t see him that often.”

“Why’s that?” Kakashi fervently wished he were better at small talk. This would be no problem for Sakura, were she here. Of course, being confronted by a life-size image of herself wearing practically nothing might slow her down a bit. Kakashi glanced again at the cardboard cutout and sighed. Jiraiya certainly was a gifted artist—he had to hand it to him. The image of the woman before him could easily fuel a hundred thousand fantasies. Or launch a thousands ships.

“We’re both so busy. And Momijikawa is pretty far away.”

“Ah. Well, any new merchandise?”

“Icha, Icha- related? No, I’m sorry to say I’ve got nothing new. But I’ll be getting the books a good week before anyone else, so stop by this Friday to pick one up, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Kakashi replied as he exited the store with a lazy wave and a hidden smile. Getting that one critical piece of information had been easier than he’d anticipated. “I’ll be the first to get my hands on it.”

This called for an immediate change in plans. Kakashi loped out of sight, but quickened his pace as he left the village, veering off the well-trod dirt road into the woods. He climbed atop a flat-topped outcropping of rock, then removed his pack and summoned Pakkun again.

“Two messages this time. One for Tsunade, and one for Uchiha Ino.” Kakashi looked up from the scroll he was writing upon to see the ninken’s look of irritation.

“Summoning me twice in one day? You do realize I have a family. And obligations. Uh oh, you have that…expression again. What’s wrong? How did you screw up this time?”

“It’s not me. It’s Jiraiya.”

“Your idol?”

”Hardly. Well, not anymore.” Kakashi laid a crumpled sheet of brightly printed paper in front of the small canine.

“What’s the problem? This is your bitch, isn’t it?”

“My bitch? Oh, right. Yes, that’s Sakura. She’ll be mortified when she sees it.”

“It’s just flesh, you know. I really don’t see what the big deal is. Now everyone will know that you’ve claimed her.”

Kakashi shook his head, then leaned over to scratch the dog just above his collar. The pug responded with an involuntary kick of his hind leg and a soft growl of satisfaction. The man certainly did know how to please him.

“Trust me. It’s a big deal.”

Messages secured, the dog ran off at a much faster trot than one might expect from such a short-legged animal. Kakashi slashed his index finger with a kunai, then knelt on the smooth, flat rock to diagram the complex mandala of characters and symbols that would allow him to move nearly instantaneously to the small city the shop keeper had mentioned. He hadn’t planned on reconnaissance today, and, though burdensome chakra-wise, this extreme method of travel was the only way to fit such a time-consuming activity into his schedule. He was not about to let this turn of events, or any other unforeseen happening deter him from the goal he’d set for today. He stood, moved his hands quickly through a succession of seals, and disappeared in a swirl of young leaves.

…o…o…o…o…

Sakura awoke to bright sunlight and the tattered remnants of a most wonderful, yet elusive dream. She wriggled deeper into the thin quilt which covered her, as she tried in vain to grasp the warm, languorous feeling that lapped at the edges of her mind. She giggled as she became more aware. What was the point of dreaming about making love to Kakashi when he was lying right beside her? She reached her hand out and was startled to realize that Kakashi was not, as she’d expected, lying next to her. Neither was he on his own futon. His bed, in fact, was cool to the touch, indicating that he’d been gone for some time. Sakura sat up groggily and stretched, first noticing his black robe folded into a neat bundle, then the small note the copy ninja had set next to the thin mattress that served as her bed. “Several errands to run,” it read in his abysmally sloppy writing.

“Idiot,” she growled, tempering her language as she remembered she was in a monastery. Kakashi was barely recovered—why on earth would he be out “running errands?” She glanced back at the note.

“If you’re bored…” it read. A long arrow pointed to the puzzle box he’d set next to the note.

Sakura picked up the small, elegant box and tossed it gently from hand to hand. The fact that he’d suggested solving the puzzle probably meant he’d be gone for hours. She decided a good part of her morning would be devoted to finding just the right words with which to berate him. But that wouldn’t take all morning, and it really was about time that she opened the puzzle box. She had never before taken so long to solve one. She quickly made her way through an abbreviated morning routine, gulped down the rice and miso soup laid on a tray outside her room, moved down a deserted hallway and into the bright outdoors. The grounds were empty, again. From the position of the sun, she estimated it was about 9 a.m. The monks were probably in the zendo, then. They seemed to spend a good portion of each day there. Sakura headed to the well-tended garden where she and Kakashi had sat the day before, and chose a bench that had already been warmed by the morning sunlight.

She looked critically at the box before her. Knowing Kakashi, there was probably more to its key than one might initially expect. He was, after all, a master of “beneath the beneath”, and hidden meanings. He’d probably chatted up the salesperson, turning on the charm he could muster when warranted, intent on finding the most fiendishly clever box available. The box he’d selected probably had some meaning to its solution. She guessed he’d even gone so far as to surreptitiously use his Sharingan as the salesperson opened each box for him, so that he could choose the most appropriate one. Sakura slowly turned the precisely inlaid box in her hands, looking at each face in turn. Some boxes, she knew, were solved in steps—a number of keys would be slid on a single face before moving on to the next face. Others had a more random arrangement to their solution—keys and panels on different sides might be slid in any order, or repeatedly. She thought briefly about the kannuki she had already moved into place on this box. All of them had been on its uppermost face. She smiled. This would be easier than she’d surmised. So far she’d slid 15 keys, for a total of 18 moves. Was there any significance to that number of keys? The fifteenth of March was her birthday, but to be technically correct, she’d actually made 18 moves. What other numbers were an integral part of her history? The name of her genin team, of course, gave the number seven tremendous significance. Four man squads? The numbers representing Kakashi’s birthday-- 9 and 15? Kakashi had hinted there were many steps to this puzzle—surely there would be more than the 53 keys these numbers added up to. What other numbers held significance? Their ages--24 and 38? Their age difference—14 years? Sakura studied the puzzle box as she ran her fingers along its surface, feeling for any looseness in its inlay. She could be completely off base, of course, about the significance of the puzzle, but knowing Kakashi, there would be layers of meaning to this gift.

She focused on the puzzle, not noticing, at first, the work crew that came out into the garden to rake its gravel surface, and to prune its plantings. They were quiet, though not silent. She caught a few murmurs and surreptitious gestures that seemed to be pointing in her general direction. News did travel, it seemed, even among monks who spent most of their day in silent contemplation. She wondered what they were communicating about—was it the clothes she’d worn the night she’d arrived, or the loud noises they’d undoubtedly heard the night before? Either way, it was embarrassing. Sakura did her best to control the heat rising to her cheeks, but she was spectacularly unsuccessful. After a while, though, the crew had no reason to linger, as the garden was quickly restored to its usual, pristine condition. One by one, they wandered off, to the kitchen, no doubt. A tantalizingly savory smell permeated the air.

It took Sakura a total of three hours before the puzzle box sprung open with a satisfying, resonant click. She’d been right—the numbers used in its solution were significant—seven, twenty four, fourteen, fifteen, nine and three. Seventy two keys in all—a tremendous number for such a small box. The level of craftsmanship needed to make such an object was almost unimaginable. Kakashi had probably spent a small fortune on the himitsu bako. Sakura laughed at the many recollections she had of the copy ninja’s heretofore penurious nature. He certainly wasn’t a penny-pincher when it came to her. She lifted the now unsecured lid and wrinkled her brow. It wasn’t empty, as she had expected. Its small cavity contained a piece of paper, tightly folded to fit the miniscule space. She tugged at the small bundle, and gasped as she uncovered two matching rings, one smaller than the other, but both containing luminescent, intensely colored beryls of a green that perfectly matched her eyes. She slipped the smaller ring on her finger, and held her hand aloft to catch the noontime light.

She’d never seen an emerald so intensely green. Years before her parents had given her a small, faceted pendant stone, but like most emeralds, it was cloudy and riddled with multiple inclusions. These stones were flawless, and breathtaking in their perfection. Though they were polished as cabochons in plain, smooth settings (a practical idea given the nature of work done by their presumed owners), the underside of each stone was faceted to catch and reflect incident light. They glowed as though each possessed a small yet intense inner fire. Sakura was mesmerized for a while by this almost living light, until she remembered the small paper she’d pulled from the box. She unfolded the tiny missive, smoothing its many creases as she did so. It was a haiku she knew well, and it was surprisingly legible, despite the fact that it had been recorded in the copy ninja’s own hand.

Could I die under
a cherry blossom tree in full bloom
on a full-moon night of spring

They were Saigyo’s words, one of the many poems he’d written about hanami, and the ephemeral nature of beauty and life. These words were also her favorite, suggesting the bittersweet idea of dying in grace and perfection, after a life of challenges successfully met. But now these words meant so much more to her. Her vision blurred as she reread the short poem.

He wanted to die by her side.

A shinobi’s life was so closely intertwined with death. Death was one’s constant companion, as intimate as a lover. It was the shadow that cast into relief the smallest details of one’s daily activities. Life was short, too often painfully, brutishly short. One needed to grab happiness whereever it could be found. That Kakashi saw her as his source of happiness, that he wanted to die by her side, with their love in full bloom-- the thought was overwhelming.

“Marry me.”

Sakura looked up from her reverie to see Kakashi kneeling before her. He grasped her hand and kissed it, mask lowered from his face, an expression of anticipation mixed with apprehension evident in the set of his finely carved features.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”

She sighed as she considered the things Kakashi had endured in recent days, and the trials she’d put him through. “You’re a very patient man, aren’t you?”

The copy ninja laughed. “It would have spoiled the surprise if I begged you to open the box. I bought those stones eight years ago. A few more days of waiting didn’t seem to make a difference.”

“Eight years ago.” That he’d been in love with her all of this time was still hard to believe.

“I’d taken a year-long mission to get away from Konoha. And you. It was to Iwagakure. When I saw these stones, I saw your eyes, and a part of me knew it was useless to run away. I’ve kept them on me ever since.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to marry you.” She leaned into him, pressing her lips against his, her voice a soft murmur.

“Now.” His response was uncharacteristically urgent.

“Nani?” Sakura pulled back in surprise. “But you just said a few days of waiting didn’t make a difference.”

“I was wrong. I don’t want to wait any longer. If I’d been less of a coward you would have been my wife for the past three years, at least. Hell, I wish I’d married you the day you turned eightteen.”

“But… how can we get married here? We’re citizens of Konoha, not greater Fire.”

”My father was born near here, and married at this very place. That makes it perfectly legal for us to wed outside of the village. And even if the village didn’t recognize it, I’d still want to do this. It’s the blessing that matters, after all.”

“But they already think we’re married.” She gestured toward the zendo, an embarassed blush upon her cheeks.

“I talked to Harada-roshi this morning. He’d already guessed.” Kakashi stood, still grasping Sakura’s hand, and pulled her to her feet.

“I…”

“Did you picture a big wedding?” Kakashi chuckled at her reluctance, as well as at the thought of a teenage Sakura lying on her bed, stack of bridal magazines at hand, planning her nuptials.

“No, no, that was Ino.” Her own fantasy had been nowhere near as detailed or lavish as that of her sometime rival. She had only wanted to marry for love. “But our friends—“

“Don’t worry. We can have a reception, as big as you like, once we go back to the village. We can even have Tsunade marry us again, if you like.” He smiled. “She’ll probably insist on it.”

”Why?” He immediately grasped the meaning behind the simple question.

“Either of us could die tomorrow. Or this afternoon. If that were to happen, to know that you had been my wife, if only for a few hours…”

Sakura giggled. “I never knew you were such a romantic.”

“I’d call it possessiveness.” The copy ninja shrugged laconically, though Sakura easily saw through this show of nonchalance.

Her giggle turned into a snort of derision. “You can call it whatever you like. Romeo.”

He grabbed her arm, wheeling her around to face him. His tone was serious, though his words were quiet. “Do this for me, and I’ll do whatever you want in return.”

The kunoichi’s eyes glinted momentarily. “Anything? You may be sorry you made that offer.”