Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Hindsight's 20/20 ❯ The Second Piece ( Chapter 5 )

Authors Notes: Hey everyone, thank you very much for your patience and kind encouraging reviews. I've really appreciated it.

 

So, this is Chapter 5…it's shorter than the other chapters so I added a bonus at the end. You see, this chapter 5 is actually the second version of it that I wrote and the only of the two that I completed. So, at the end of this, you will find the 8 pages of the alternative chapter 5. I think it's kinda neat, they're both rather radically different from each other on some important things. I hope you guys like it.

 

Oh, and I would like to dedicate this chapter to Leafy Girl who has been constantly cheering me on all year for it. Without her I probably would have given up on it so if you guys are fans, you might want to thank her too.

 

And a huge thanks to Lily for beta-ing for me.

 

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Hindsight's 20/20 - Chapter 5

By: Tea Leaf

 

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He stepped on the gas and they sped away, ripped away from everyone trying to hold them back. In the long run, running now would prove to be pointless. She knew that but she didn't care. She would run as fast and as far as she could for as long as she could. She'd been running for four years, another day wasn't going to make much of a difference to her self-loathing.

 

Haruno clung tightly to Itachi's waist as the miles flew away beneath them. She didn't know where they were going and to be honest, she didn't care. Itachi was one of the few people she trusted to this extent.

 

The sun steadily wandered down towards the earth and the cooling air whipped through her clothing, chilling her to the bone with mesmerizing strength. Idly she wondered if she were to let go, could she just fly away on the wind.

 

Her fingers shifted, loosening their grip fractionally. Itachi's large gloved hand landed on top of hers, holding them in place. She tightened her grip again and his hand went back to the handlebar.

 

Finally, as the sky bled reds and golds and their city had long disappeared from the horizon, he slowed and finally stopped on the shoulder of the highway. She climbed off and pulled off her helmet, keeping it in her hand as she walked towards the flood barrage that had been set up beside a rather active river. The water was low right now as it was fall. It was draining away. She climbed up and sat down on the wood.

 

A minute later, Itachi joined her, face set in his blank mask, gaze distracted as he looked out over the water.

 

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to, she knew what he was thinking, what he wanted to say. She felt guilt swamp her as he sat silent beside her. She'd broken her promise to him. She'd been so caught up in preserving the semblance of a life they had built for themselves that she had denied anything trying to upset it. But in doing so, she'd disturbed the very foundation of their relationship. They could depend on each other. She had not been reliable.

 

“I'm sorry…” The broken words she'd been whispering like a mantra her entire life rose from her throat without her conscious thought once again. The difference between when she used to use it and when she did now was that now, the words mattered. They made a difference to the man hearing them.

 

He had loved to hear her say them; plead them to him as he punished her.

 

Itachi simply accepted them. He did not need to punish her for any transgressions; he knew she would not commit them again. She had been well trained. But even that wasn't his fault and so she didn't hold it against him. He trusted her personality, knew it better than his own. In a way, it was the same in reverse.

 

Maybe that's why she had been so afraid to let him know.

 

She leaned against him and he lifted his arm, looping it around her shoulders and letting her snuggle close to him.

 

She clung to his jacket, letting the heat of his body warm her and the slight scent of his sweat mixed with cologne and the ever present undertone of blood envelop her. She knew that this would be one of the last times she'd be able to.

 

(…)

 

Haruno winced as she heard Ino's shrill excuse for a voice raging at the top of her lungs about the injustices that had been committed to her in yesterday's sparring match.

 

The whole school was abuzz about it. Apparently, the student body had spent the afternoon watching the fight rather than studying their lessons. Ino was basking in the attention, taking advantage of every opportunity to rant and rave about how horrible she, Haruno, was. And of course, everyone was lapping it up.

 

She felt even more cynical than normal. She'd forgotten just how much of a freak show she was.

 

“Haruno-chan!” The chipper voice was swiftly followed by a heavy arm landing over her shoulders and a large grin swimming into her field of vision.

 

“Good morning!” Naruto exclaimed brightly.

 

Haruno bit back the harsh retort of “And what the hell is good about it?” and settled for nodding in acknowledgement of him. She wasn't really in the mood to be chatty.

 

Naruto's smile faltered slightly at the corners as he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her into a half hug.

 

“Thanks for yesterday.” He told her seriously.

 

She smiled weakly.

 

“Don't mention it.” She stated as she felt the weight that had been hung on her spirit since the previous night lift slightly. She'd done the right thing. Her reputation didn't matter, nor did Ino's mental state. Naruto did, and she'd protected him.

 

“Chouji and Shika both got out of the mess unscathed too. And Ino's just being a bitch, as usual.” He informed her.

 

“I know.” Haruno answered as she took a deep breath and pushed an attempt at a smile onto her lips.

 

They wandered silently through the crowded halls, heading towards the stairway that led them to the second floor where their English class was.

 

Their third was waiting for them on the landing between the two stories.

 

Sasuke frowned at Naruto's arm and the fact the Haruno was not alone. He had not been overly surprised to see that it was indeed his brother that she was “with” but it did nothing to lessen the shock of seeing him for the first time in a decade. Or of seeing her leave so readily with him.

 

He needed to get her alone as soon as possible and pump her for information on Itachi. He needed to convince her to help him in his plan.

 

But right now he couldn't.

 

Haruno looked away from him as Naruto forced her to stop in front of him.

 

Naruto was grinning brightly, exchanging morning pleasantries with the younger Uchiha. She was surprised by the camaraderie they displayed. It seemed that fighting together made them friends.

 

The thought was punctuated as Naruto playfully punched Sasuke in the arm and the latter joined them on the last leg of the trip to class.

 

{Well, that's two hurdles down so far: facing the school and facing Sasuke…those were the easy ones…} she thought as dread slowly tightened the long muscles of her back. The tension grew with each step they took closer to Kakashi's classroom door.

 

Naruto's arm tightened slightly, comfortingly around her shoulders.

 

She had to admit, she was a bit relieved that she wouldn't be facing him alone. She knew that she would have to soon, but at least right now she could avoid it.

 

(…)

 

Kakashi had not been looking forward to his first class…more so than usual. He did not want to teach at all today. He just wanted to grab Haruno the second he saw her and take her far far away from here for a very long discussion.

 

He looked up from his desk as he heard Naruto and Sasuke's voices outside the door. The pair came in, Haruno held protectively under Naruto's considerably massive arm. Something inside of him tightened inexplicably at the sight. It took him by surprise and he was suddenly glad for the mask that hid his face and his gut reaction.

 

Haruno met his eyes for a second, long enough for it to feel like she was looking straight through him and knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling. But then she looked away, breaking the connection and cautiously avoiding making it again as she slid towards the back of the class with her teammates.

 

His hidden eye twitched slightly.

 

Steadily the students threaded in and finally the bell rang. He sucked it up and did what he was paid to do.

 

(…)

 

The class dragged on but if asked later, Haruno would not have been able to relay what she had been taught and Kakashi would not be able to say what he was teaching. Haruno spent the morning watching the grounds beneath the window blindly, Kakashi's voice like static in the back of her mind.

 

Many times Naruto thought to strike up conversation with her, but every time, something reminded him that it was a better idea to just not say anything at all right now.

 

Finally the bell rang to both the relief and dread of many of the students. Steadily they filed out as Kakashi cleared away the notes and books he'd been using. Sasuke slouched back in his chair as he waited, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him. Naruto slumped down in his desk; face almost lost in the bulk of his crossed arms. Only a glint of electric blue revealed that he was in fact very awake and aware of his surroundings. Haruno continued to stare out the window.

 

Kakashi leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest as he assessed his charges. Again, he mentally cursed himself for agreeing to take them on in the first place.

 

Sasuke stared at him challengingly; his impatience radiated from him. Finally with a sigh, Kakashi gave in to the pressure of duty.

 

“You guys did well yesterday.” He stated awkwardly into the silence of the room.

 

Naruto shifted slightly, both eyes now peeking out from over his arms and locking on their teacher.

 

Kakashi coughed in an effort to dislodge the glue blocking his words. He needed to come up with something constructive for the team to work on. Now was not the time to sort out personal demons.

 

The silence stretched and thickened, only Haruno seemed unaffected as her cold green eyes avoided reality.

 

With a muttered curse, Kakashi gave up.

 

“Sasuke, Naruto, team up with Gai and his team today.” He stated tersely.

 

Haruno's eyes snapped to the front of the class, the move punctuated by the slamming of Sasuke's boots on the floor and Naruto's questioning “huh?”.

 

Kakashi squared his shoulders and set his jaw, filling his form with years of command.

 

“That is your training for the day. Go.” He reiterated, his tone not harsh or loud but immobile.

 

Naruto cast a worried glance at Haruno but her faint nod had him lumbering to his feet and collecting his book bag.

 

“Come on Sasuke. We'd better hurry or Gai will get out the spandex.” He said lightly, a forced grin stretching his lips and squinting his eyes.

 

Sasuke's eyes locked on Kakashi's only visible one. But his teacher's face remained infuriatingly impassive.

 

Naruto nudged his shoulder lightly.

 

With a snarl, Sasuke rose and snatched up his bag, spiting a dark glower at Kakashi as he passed.

 

Kakashi's composure remained though as he steadily watched them leave and listened to their steps down the empty hall. As the last echoes faded, he slowly rose from the desk, moving heavily and deliberately towards the door. The soft thud of wood against wood and the click of the latch echoed through the still room. Haruno had not moved an eyelash, watching him warily as he moved. She waited for a lock that never came.

 

Kakashi let go of the handle and moved again, his footsteps heavy and reluctant. He'd forced their confrontation because he could not bear letting it go. But now that the moment was at hand his mind had wiped blank of words and his body felt heavy and lethargic.

 

Had things turned out differently so long ago, he'd never have been here. Had he but known…he shook his head slightly of the familiar and ever futile what ifs.

 

His feet dragged as he moved towards her, the weight of the air pressing down on him, harder with every step.

 

Haruno felt the tension in her shoulders slide into heavy waiting. Her hands fell from where they rested on the desk, down onto her lap in an ungraceful movement. The weight of them was suddenly so hard for her to bear as her shoulders bowed with the effort.

 

Her breathing was growing harder, a suffocating weight pushing down on her rib cage, compressing it, not allowing her the air she seemed to need.

 

Finally Kakashi reached her and turned the chair of the desk in front of her.

 

He sat down heavily, almost collapsing into it. He met her eyes and simply looked at her, unable to say a thing.

 

Haruno's jaw had locked, her throat slowly squeezing shut. She stared back.

 

Slowly the dust in the room settled around them as the sunlight stretched through the windows. There was something wrong about the brightness. Haruno felt robbed that it wasn't even yet midday. The sun should be setting. Slowly meandering and declining in the sky. Like they were.

 

Her eyes grew sore as did the back of her neck. Her breathing tightened and her heart stepped up. Her muscles tensed as she held it back.

 

She wanted to cry, to yell, to scream at him, to hurt him. She wanted to hit him, to expose him.

 

His gaze was half hidden and dark, full of resignation. He'd long ago given up. Given up on everything, on himself, on his life, on her. He was hiding, hiding from her in plain sight.

 

He hadn't even raised his bandana so as to look at her with both eyes. That, more than anything, pushed back the flood of her emotions. How could she open up to a ghost? A specter of the man who brought this out in her.

 

Her eyes died as he watched.

 

The bell rang.

 

She broke eye contact and stood, gathering her things.

 

He stared at the spot where she had been.

 

She walked past him, steps heavy and echoing hollowly as she went to the door.

 

He made no effort to stop her.

 

She didn't hesitate at the door, nor look back as she walked through.

 

(…)

 

Itachi found her lying on the bottom of the bathtub, covered in barely lukewarm water.

 

She rose to the surface as he looked down at her, lips parted as she took a deep breath of air, filling the lungs that had been so compressed but a moment ago.

 

The room was dark, the only light stemming from the moon and filtering in through the stained, crushed glass window.

 

His hands rose, cold and calloused and smoothed her hair back from her face, exposing the churning burn scar on her forehead, before moving down to wipe the water out of her eyes.

 

Her hands remained limp in the water, her fingers grossly warped from the long soaking she'd done.

 

“You need to train him.” He told her, his voice like black gravel rolling roughly through her ears.

 

She bowed her head in acceptance.

 

(…)

 

Sasuke was sneering condescendingly as she explained to him that he had a lot of work to do.

 

The entire day had passed in a blur to her, much as the day before. And now here she was, taking the day off work to do what she had promised to do long ago.

 

She was going to prepare Sasuke for a confrontation with Itachi.

 

But Sasuke would have none of it. All he wanted from her was a location and no matter how hard she tried to explain to him that he would be killed, he would not accept her help.

 

She was so tired. Tired of arguing with him. Tired of talking about death and revenge. Tired of hearing what Itachi had done to his brother. Tired of everything.

 

She closed her eyes, hand rising to gently massage her forehead.

 

If he wouldn't accept her help, despite all her efforts, then that was all there was to it. Secretly she thought this was better anyway.

 

She rose from his living room couch and walked wearily to the door.

 

There was static in the back of her mind again, he was still yelling at her but she'd long lost the ability to understand his words.

 

Finally he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him.

 

He was angry but she could see the fear deep in the dark pools of his eyes.

 

She felt the band over her ribs contract.

 

“Every day after school, meet me in the abandoned warehouse on Industrial.” She instructed him.

 

He nodded reluctantly.

 

“We'll start tomorrow.”

 

She pulled on her shoes and left. She heard the static but she ignored it. Her mind pleaded respite.

 

She left the apartment, taking the stairs rather than the elevator so as to take more time getting home. She wasn't ready to face Itachi. She didn't want to tell him that she would be training his brother to kill him, like he had asked her to. She didn't want to think of the repercussions it would have on her own life. She would have to quit her job which meant her funds would only decline from here on out. She would have to live with the fact that one or the other Uchiha was going to die and that she would be partially responsible for that death.

 

She was going to be fully responsible for destroying Sasuke's soul and everything good in him.

 

She blocked the thought from her mind, ignoring it, denying it. She forced her brain to go blank as she moved slowly and aimlessly through the dark streets. The roads seemed familiar somewhere in the back of her mind but she didn't probe the feeling, she simply followed it in effort to escape everything else.

 

Her eyes stayed low on the ground, her shoulders hunched against the cold night wind coming in off the water.

 

Off the water…she looked up and found herself at the loading docks. She smiled deprecatingly to herself as she moved to the railing, crouching down and leaning against the post as she stared out over the inky water.

 

She had not been here in many years. In what seemed like a lifetime ago, this had been where he had taken her to escape her father. She'd almost forgotten about it. She'd always been so grateful to him for it. Her savior, he had seemed. So strong and smart, so brave to defy her father. So kind to her. Always so kind, sharing his smile that was hidden from everyone else. He was as gone now as she was. Both the girl and the man, phantoms of a better time.

 

Maybe better wasn't the best word. The highs had been far higher than anything in her life now but so the lows had been so much lower. Life now was stable, comfortable, static. Or at least it had been. She wasn't so sure it was any more and it was sure to only get worse.

 

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cold metal post, momentarily drowning in her nostalgia, falling so deeply that even those haunting strains of the harmonica he would play for her filled her ears.

 

But he had never played a song so sad for her.

 

She opened her eyes, banishing the cobwebs of her memory and straining her ears.

 

It was faint, so faint, but it was there.

 

She shouldn't follow it, the last thing she needed right now was to be shut out. But her feet moved of their own accord, drawn to the sounds. Drawn to the player.

 

She moved into the deep shadows of the alleys connecting the old warehouses that had been converted to apartments. The air was cold and moist, clinging icily to her, sticking in her hair and her throat.

 

The brick walls closing in on her were damp, mold growing in places. The fire escapes were slippery, starting to hide as a fog seeped in from the water. The straining harmonica echoed hollowly around her, she felt like she was listening to it underwater. It was misleading, the sound seemed to have no real origin, and for a moment she stopped, almost caving to the belief that it was all in her head.

 

But the thought of what lay in wait should she leave now loomed over and her feet refused to turn towards it. She continued to move forward, her steps almost silent, only a dull thud adding depth to the grief flowing around her.

 

She stopped at the base of one of the fire escapes and looked up. At the top, a faint light filtered through the open window, coming from far deeper in the room. A silhouette cut into its muted exposure, casting his shadow down the opposite wall.

 

Entranced, she pulled down the ladder leading up. It was either surprisingly silent or both were far too involved with the subconscious realm to hear its squeak. Slowly and steadily she climbed upwards, occasionally slipping on the cold, wet metal. But she persisted. There was nothing but broken glass at the bottom.

 

Finally she reached him but he showed no awareness of her. His face was completely uncovered, his gray hair falling to shadow his closed eyes without his usual headband holding it back. His lean lips caressed the well worn metal of the harmonica as his long-fingered, hard-worked hands cradled it, so gently and so fiercely, as if it were the last precious thing he had to his name.

 

She crouched down in the shadows, sitting on the worn, rusty rungs of the old fire escape, looking up at the man who went to such lengths to hide from her, completely exposed to her eyes for the first time since before her father died.

 

She couldn't say how long she sat there listening to him play what was slowly seeming to take the shape of their lives. The last note strained and fought only to die lingeringly into the night.

 

Haruno had her legs tucked up close against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as her chin rested exhaustedly on her knees.

 

He sat slouched in the wide, open window frame, one bare foot propped against the peeling wood, while the other jean clad leg draped languorously down to the metal balcony of the fire escape. His shoulders were hunched and pulled in but Haruno suspected it had more to do with his state of mind than the cold river air washing over his bare skin.

 

Slowly, he pulled the harmonica away letting his arms fall back to either side of the window while his head fell back against the frame, throwing his hair out of his eyes.

 

He didn't acknowledge her presence, but she knew he was aware of her. She simply waited, soaking him in, re-familiarizing herself with his features. His forehead was high and unmarred, framed by a slightly pointed hairline. His eyes were deep set, his eyebrows casting dark shadows over them even when they were in the brightest sunlight. His nose was well molded, properly proportioned, though slightly crooked and bumped where multiple breaks had healed. His cheekbones were a little high, his jaw smoothly defined though darkened slightly by stubble and a gauntness that had sunk in after the last time she'd seen him. His chin was strong; his lips were a little long and a little thin, marred by a small white scar cutting across the right side of the bottom. His paleness was perhaps more dramatic due to the thin red scar that ran down the left side of his face, cutting across his eye.

 

She was surprised by how clinical she felt, slowly dissecting him with her eyes. She was intruding, she knew. He didn't want her to look at him but she wasn't through with looking at him yet. She doubted she'd ever see her fill.

 

With a deep sigh that shivered in his ribs, his eyes cracked open. Mismatched red and black met her diluted green, allowing her the full weight of them. She felt her shoulders curve in under them as their weight settled heavily in her chest and sunk her deep into her toes. She could see his questions clear as day, straining to reach her through the failing light and the shadows cast by his brow, enhanced by the dark circles under his eyes.

 

She refused to answer it until he spoke it to her. She would ignore it; ignore it in hopes of avoiding the inevitable for as long she could.

 

It took an almost superhuman effort for him to formulate the words and push them out of his throat after several minutes.

 

“Why are you here Sakura?” His voice sounded so much older, rusted from neglect and time.

 

Something in her fell, deflated at the words. Maybe some small, secret part of her had hoped…hoped…for what, she couldn't describe.

 

It took her a long moment to order her thoughts into a legitimate reason. If she said “nothing” he would disappear inside and she would be locked out. And today…she just couldn't take that today.

 

“You have my sketchbook.” She answered him, her voice small and just this side of hesitant.

 

He continued to watch her and she waited patiently for him.

 

He could easily just go inside and get it, give it to her and send her off. His logical brain stated that that was exactly what he should do. But his body felt like it was made out of lead and refused to make a move towards it.

 

“Why am I in it?”

 

The words, which but a moment ago had been glued in his throat suddenly spilt forward like water. So fast, they were hanging in the air, shimmering and dissipating into the fog. So fast, they were gone and he couldn't take them back. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

 

“It's for an art project.” She answered quickly, embarrassed by the answer and taken off guard by the question. Her inner self sneered at her. Kakashi was not a man she'd ever taken the coward's way away from. How things had changed.

 

He didn't ask further, simply slid gracefully unto his apartment floor and prowled away from her, into the dark recesses within.

 

Her pulse quickened as a sense of desperation pushed her to her feet and through the window after him. She froze as she stepped inside.

 

The furniture was old and worn, third hand when it came to him and well used since. It was tidy but somehow felt musty, as if everything was covered in a growing layer of dust. The way houses whose owners had died and had no one left to care for their home. An overwhelming emptiness momentarily overcame her.

 

The light flickered as he walked in its path, emerging from his bedroom with the thick pad of paper in hand. He handed it to her wordlessly as he walked past her into the kitchen.

 

She held it dumbly for a moment, her eyes following him as he moved listlessly in the shadows of his kitchen, filling a kettle with water and setting it on the stove before leaning against the counter to wait.

 

She pulled her mechanical pencil out of the spiral binding of the book and moved, leaning against the back of the couch and looking through the doorway at him. She flipped blindly to the first blank page.

 

Obliviously, she drew the lead across the paper, translating her vision.

 

The kettle whistled and he moved, turning off the stove and taking the container off the element. He poured the water into the waiting tea pot, watching as color bled from the teabag, drowning in the hot water. He reached into the cupboard above him, pulling out two mugs. He turned to offer her some tea but by the time he looked, she was already gone.

 

His body suddenly felt heavy again as he turned and poured only one mug.

 

(…)

 

Genma chewed thoughtfully on his toothpick as he took in the new piece now hanging beside the mysterious ink drawing.

 

This one was done entirely in pencil and was of a man leaning against a kitchen counter. The view was through a doorframe and most of the room was lost to intricate shadows, the man was masked by them. It felt so lonely, so forlorn, so abandoned.

 

If he were asked though, he would have said that the most gut-wrenching part had to be the shadow that stretched up over the wall that the doorway was cut out of. It was so abstract; most would have probably sworn it off. But he would swear that the shadow was of a person reaching out for the figure in the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hindsight's 20/20 - Alternate, discarded Chapter 5

 

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They drove. The miles stretched out in front and behind them as they sped down the ribbon of pavement. The wind, ice cold, whipped by but her skin was soon numb to its bite. The city split before them, warping around them as they forced their exit.

 

They were leaving, but she wasn't escaping.

 

It was a new prison they went to, another filthy city with the same chains waiting to shackle her to this existence she deplored. She hated herself, a lot more today than she had since…well, maybe not that much yet. There was little in the world that could make her hate her reflection that much. Just that, really.

 

But today had been a bad enough day without having to remember that. And so she let the cold air sink into her, numbing her thoughts.

 

Her sight blurred as the scenery flew by for hours, the sky steadily fading. It was all just fading away, wasn't it?

 

As the sky burned crimson, he finally turned onto the off ramp, taking her into her city's twin, his city.

 

Itachi did not live in a city he worked in. He believed it was too obvious. He owned an apartment in a city four hours away. He didn't live in his apartment. It was too obvious for those who knew him. He lived in a room in the building across the street from his apartment with a window looking into his apartment's living room. That way he could watch for intruders and know who was hunting him before they could find him.

 

To those who didn't know him like she did, they might think he was overly paranoid and maybe he was. Or maybe they just didn't understand the realities of life as an assassin.

 

But she knew him better than that.

 

It wasn't because he was paranoid or afraid, Itachi wasn't afraid of anything. He wasn't even being realistically cautious.

 

It was a game. A hunting game. A single player, single shooter video game. He would watch with his sadistic grin of anticipation, hoping to be found, hoping that someone would dare to challenge him.

 

Hoping for his little brother to catch up to him.

 

He had taken her there once, only once. She shuddered at the memory. Itachi was a different person in the comfort of his own home. Or maybe it was that he was a different person when away from it. Whatever the case, he was human when in her home. He was a monster when in his own.

 

He wasn't taking her there yet. She didn't doubt for a second that that was where they would end up later, but for now, their destination was a mystery. But wherever it was, she was sure it was someplace she did not want to be.

 

He was angry with her. She could tell by the tenseness his body had been carrying since he'd laid eyes on his estranged sibling.

 

She was his prey tonight, and he would play with her until he was ready to devour her because that was how Itachi played. And it seemed that the knowledge that his sibling was so close had sparked up his playful streak again. It had been dormant since he'd lost his left eye.

 

He pulled up to an expensive Italian restaurant and parked. Immediately, she was out of place.

 

Phase one to the game: Take the prey out of its natural environment.

 

She pulled off her helmet and adjusted her headband over her imperfect forehead. She squared her shoulders and followed him inside.

 

Their coats were taken at the door. She was grossly underdressed, especially for the elite dinner crowd currently gracing the perfectly made tables. Had the Maitre d' not recognized Itachi, she would have been turned away before her dirty, sneakered foot had touched the plush red carpet.

 

They were taken to a table in the far corner of the room by the window. He sat in the chair by the wall, forcing her to sit in the chair that exposed her back to the other dinners. She could feel their cruel eyes burning into the space between her shoulder blades. She was completely exposed.

 

Itachi was immaculate and perfectly appropriate in his black leather pants and silk shirt, offset by his slim, blood red tie. His hair was pulled back, tied loosely at the base of his skull; his eye shot straight through her. One of his elbows rested on the arm of his chair, the fingers from that hand idly tapping his chin. His shoulders were thrown back, making him appear larger, like he owned and filled all the space around him. She could feel his chakra pulsing; she could see the results in his blood red eye.

Phase 2: Intimidation.

 

It had been a long time since he'd held up his sharingan around her. She strained slightly to keep her breathing steady. It was all just a game. He wanted to get the better of her. She couldn't let him. She'd never let someone do that to her again.

 

He didn't say a word to her, speaking only to order red wine when the waiter came to the table. His sharp gaze never left her.

 

She hated how he looked through her.

 

Against her will, she was slowly tensing under his scrutiny.

 

His lips twitched slightly at the corner. He raised his wine glass and took a sip of the dark liquid. And still remained intensely silent.

 

She gave into the urge to look away from him, choosing to focus a spot on the wall over his right shoulder instead.

 

In her peripheral vision she saw his smirk grow a little wider.

 

They ordered dinner. She could hear that predatory lilt in his voice now.

 

They waited in silence. His was patient. Hers was tense but she wasn't about to break it. She had nothing to justify to him and she refused to allow herself to forget it.

 

Finally the food came but she had no appetite.

 

“Eat, Sakura-chan.” He said, she could tell he was mocking Kakashi's calling earlier in the day.

 

But she picked up her fork and did as she was told. Itachi was well known for violent mood swings once his displeasure had been aroused.

 

“Is it good, Sakura-chan?” he asked her with a thickly fake sincerity.

 

“Very good.” She answered after swallowing the ash in her throat.

 

“Isn't it nice to eat out at nice restaurants?” he questioned again before taking another sip of his now refilled glass of wine.

 

“It is very nice.” She answered mechanically. She knew where he was leading. He was flaunting his money. Money was power. And everyone knew that the only thing Itachi craved was power.

 

He was very powerful.

 

It was a reminder.

 

As if she could forget.

 

“It is nice. We could do it more often.” He answered.

 

Now he was offering that money to her. Reminding her that if her pride would allow it, she would never have to work in that damned coffee house again, she could buy her apartment building and gleefully burn it to the ground. But that money was dirty.

 

“mm.” She responded vaguely.

 

He understood her. He'd been the only one who ever really had.

 

He didn't say anything, letting the silence stretch and thicken. Letting the pressure of his gaze build on her steadily.

 

“How is Kakashi-senpai?” he asked finally, a terrifying grin spreading across his lips.

 

She dropped her fork and looked up sharply.

 

He hadn't expected her to answer him; she knew she wasn't supposed to. Her reaction was enough. It told him everything he wanted to know.

 

Now he had power over her. Sakura cursed fluently inside her head.

 

He knew she didn't care what he did to her, but doing something to someone she cared about…well that was another story.

 

“How long Sakura?” he asked, his voice cold, his expression now blank and serious.

 

She didn't even bother pretending she didn't know what he meant.

 

“I met him the first day of school, it clicked on the third.” She answered.

 

“Why?” he pressed.

 

“He used the sharingan.” She answered.

 

“How evolved is it?”

 

“First stage.”

 

The questions and answers were like rapid fire, unconscious and unhesitant.

 

Itachi sat back in his chair, fingers steepled together as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. He was contemplating this new information.

 

“It won't do.” He said finally.

 

She didn't respond. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.

 

“Raise it.”

 

She tensed. She nodded once.

 

She had trained with Itachi and Kakashi for a very long time, she knew how the sharingan worked and she knew what would be required of her.

 

She didn't want to. But she didn't honestly have a choice in the matter. She had never had a choice.

 

He threw cash on the table and stood. She stood as well and followed him out of the restaurant, retrieving her red leather cross as she did.

 

(…)

 

He took her to his apartment. Not the decoy but the real one. She hated this room. It reminded her of her father's.

 

It was dark; the lighting was bad so it wouldn't be obvious from the outside. The walls were covered in weapons, guns, katanas, kunai, shiruken, daggers, sais, kodachi. There was a case full of nin-jutsu scrolls. There was a sniper rifle set up at the window facing the entrance of the building across the street where his decoy apartment was. The scope doubled as a telescope to watch people. There were more telescopes set up, one facing his decoy apartment's bare windows so that he could watch everything that went on in it. Then there was his loose telescope, the one he used to watch people when he was bored. The idea of being watched by a murdered creeped her out. But then again, one stared at her in the mirror everyday so she really couldn't complain.

 

He didn't even bother checking his scopes; he just closed the door behind him, locking it. He then started stripping as he moved towards the bed that was set under the katana rack and that she knew had several loaded handguns strapped to the headboard.

 

She followed suit.

 

This was another show of power. One she'd been subjected to for as long as she could remember.

 

She'd learned to numb her body to the point where she couldn't feel anything anymore. But she was aware of it. She couldn't help but know. She was utterly powerless and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

People seemed to like to remind her of that.

 

(…)

 

He dropped her off on time at school the next morning. This was the last place she wanted to be right now, especially in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday.

 

He'd know the second he saw her. He always knew. She could always tell. He would always give her that look, the look that said he really did not want to be looking at her; he didn't want to see her.

 

She hated that look.

 

But she couldn't go back to her apartment. Itachi had gone back there to sleep some more. She didn't want to see him for as long as she could manage without looking suspicious. It would be suspicious if she didn't go home that night.

 

He would ask her about her progress with his brother.

 

She had to make progress with his brother.

 

She wanted to tell his brother to run as far and as fast as he possibly could and to never look back for a second. She wanted to do that herself.

 

But she wouldn't tell him that. And she wouldn't do that.

 

She owed Itachi and she couldn't leave until she'd paid her debt to him.

 

She was starting to get funny looks from the students walking past her. Funnier than normal at any rate. And a different kind of funny than the ones she would be getting once Ino had played Drama Queen for the whole student body.

 

She sighed and moved towards the main door. She'd just have to suck it up.

 

She didn't bother loitering in the halls or going to her locker just to fiddle with its lack of content. She went straight to class. It would be better to get it over with without an audience.

 

The classroom was empty when she reached it on the second floor. She moved to the back of the class and took the desk next to the window in the last row.

 

Kakashi was staring at her from his desk opposite her in the front of the class. She hadn't even looked at him when she'd come in. She refused to look at him now.

 

She heard his chair scrape. His steps moved towards her. He straddled the seat at the desk directly in front of her and crossed his arms on the back of it, resting his chin on them and staring at her intently.

 

Her hand twitched slightly but she stilled it with her will before it started to shake.

 

“Stop staring at me.” She said monotonously, eyes still fixed determinately away from him.

 

He didn't. His gaze was starting to weigh on her. It was harder to suppress her shaking hands. Her pulse was slowly getting louder and louder as it thrummed through her ears.

 

She snapped her eyes away from the window and met his straight on.

 

No wonder she'd reacted like that, he was staring at her with both of his eyes. One coal black, the other blood red.

 

She hadn't expected that.

 

She swallowed hard.

 

“What?” she asked after a minute, her voice a lot less firm and annoyed than she'd wanted it to be.

 

“Are you ok?” he asked her, holding her gaze.

 

She looked down.

 

“I'm fine Kakashi.” She told him. It was truthful. She was ok. She had no choice but to be ok.

 

He kept staring at her, staring through her. She hated that about the sharingan, she always felt overexposed and raw under its intensity.

 

He opened his mouth.

 

The bell rang. The stream of students pouring into the desks cut him off.

 

He stood and moved back to the front of the class.

 

She turned her eyes back to the window.

 

Naruto flopped into the seat Kakashi had just emptied.

 

“'Morning Haruno-chan…” he said through a huge yawn before smiling brightly at her.

 

She turned and smiled back at him.

 

“'Morning Naruto. Late night?” she asked him with a suggestively cocked eyebrow.

 

He flushed slightly. She laughed at him.

 

Sasuke sprawled into the desk beside her.

 

He didn't say anything but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to talk to her.

 

Well, she wanted to talk to him too so he'd have every opportunity.

 

The second bell rang.

 

Kakashi yelled at the students to sit down and shut up.

 

Haruno pulled out her headphones and set them in her ears discreetly before pressing play on her walkman, effectively blocking out the noise of the class and the voice of the teacher. She stared out the window and watched the sun lazily climb in the cold, faded gray blue sky. The soft subtleties of the music helped her clear her head and focus on her immediate problems, raising Sasuke's sharingan before Itachi became impatient with her. She suppressed the shudder that strained to shake her spine at the memory of the last time she'd tried his patience.